Nay, she didn’t. How had Rowena behaved to him? She strived to conjure up their life together, knowing Rowena was strong-willed and hot-blooded. And she disliked the scorching thread of jealousy which suddenly and strangely pierced her heart. Perchance he was comparing her to his former wife and found her lacking.
“Nay, I do not know. Tell me,” she said, turning to face him.
Belatedly, she realized she should not have spoken. And it was foolish to feel jealousy over Rowena. Emma reasoned she did not care that much for Arthen, in spite of her maddening lust for him. He was only Robin’s father, a man she had to put up with, wasn’t he?
“What do you wish me to tell you, wife?” Arthen said in the same soft, silky voice he’d employed when he’d taunted her with a spanking.
“I…”
As other times before in his presence, Emma suddenly found she’d forgotten her words. She held her breath as he strode to her. He was now so close to her that they were almost touching. Almost – yet not touching.
“I find you… even more maddening than before. Is this what you wish me to tell you?” he spoke, while his lips were so close to her own that she found herself wishing he'd kiss her.
Maddening.He’d used the very same word she had been thinking about him. Even more maddening than before. Did that mean he lusted after her more than he’d lusted for Rowena? Emma strived hard to get a hold of herself. It did not matter. He was only a man she would put up with in order to have the chance to be Robin’s mother. He was just Robin’s father. Nothing more.
“I don’t wish you to tell me anything,” she muttered, trying hard to clear her head.
“I see. Instead you wish me to spank you. And touch you. And thrust inside you,” he said in a savage voice.
Aye. It was only at the last moment that Emma bit back the word. Her lips burnt. She wanted him to kiss her. She badly wanted him to kiss her. And touch her. And spank her. And thrust inside her. She no longer could contain the sinful desire she’d felt ever since she’d set eyes on this man. If that made her a harlot, so be it. Yet she gritted her teeth and stepped away from him, perceiving the fierce, dark anger in his eyes.
“You think to do this. Tempt me. Taunt me. Lure me to you. As if nothing had happened. As if you hadn’t broken faith with me,” he said, his firm mouth twisting into a bitter line.
Emma stared at him, but he turned his back on her with a look of sheer disgust which pierced her heart like an ice splinter, although she had not ever broken faith with him. But wasn’t she doing something even worse than Rowena had done? She was deceiving him, for her own selfish ends, wasn’t she?
“Forgive me,” she said in earnest, striving to keep her voice from trembling.
He did not turn to face her, gazing through the window into the dusk which had fallen outside. Emma focused hard to finish her chores, and then readied for bed.
CHAPTER 13
The next days were a trial to Arthen. There were times when his wife behaved sweetly and the new warm and caring way in which she acted towards their son made him believe she was indeed changed and truly regretting the callous manner in which she'd deserted them. At other times though it seemed to him she was purposely trying to provoke him to spank her by acting like a fancy, demure lady, unused to rough commoner ways and heavy chores. And at those times Arthen's hand indeed itched to spank her. It was only with difficulty that he restrained himself. Because he'd come to see his wife wanted him to spank her. He understood only too well the rapture it brought her.
Often he let his gaze roam over her shapely behind, shamelessly, just as shamelessly as he was doing now as she was sweeping the kitchen floor. Arthen gnashed his teeth hard, while his eyes furtively followed the swishing movements of her hips as she busied herself at her task. Was she aware of how alluring she looked at all times? And was she moving like a temptress on purpose? Arthen strived to ignore such thoughts and to ignore his wife, and returned his eyes upon his own task, that of mending one of the kitchen chairs. But he found he couldnot ignore her. Rowena had started to hum softly to herself as if oblivious of his presence in the same chamber. Yet again, Arthen attempted to pretend she was not there, but he failed, as her humming turned into downright singing. He frowned. He and Rowena had been married for more than three years, but now that he came to think upon this, it was the first time he'd ever heard her hum or sing.
His wife was singing of summer, although it was still mid spring. It was a well-known song he'd heard sung many times, but her voice held a warmth and sweetness in it he'd never heard before. And it was plain others could perceive the same thing as he had, because Robin and Will, who had been playing outside, came bursting into the kitchen to listen to her sing.
Rowena paused with a short laugh, putting the broom away.
"Oh, so you've come because you heard me singing of the cuckoo calling. Come, let's sing together.Sumer is icumen in/Lhude sing cuccu..."
Both boys giggled, with Will, who prided himself in being much older and wiser than Robin, pointing out that the month of April was still upon them.
"Aye, it is so. But you see, I've always loved summer above all else. And I've always thought it will come sooner if you call to it or sing to it. So this is what I'm doing, singing to it."
Both Robin and Will seemed instantly taken with this thought, and they soon joined Rowena in her singing, as Arthen strived hard to return his attention upon the chair he was mending, but found he could not, and soon started smiling in spite of himself, especially when Robin turned to him to ask him to join in their song.
"Sing with us, Da!" he urged, and Arthen nearly opened his mouth to comply with the child's wish.
He'd always loved singing, and it recalled the happier, carefree way he'd been before his marriage to Rowena andtheir endless quarrels had made him cross and bitter. Catching Rowena's blue gaze upon him, he firmly shook his head.
"Not now. Perchance another time," he told Robin, striving to return to what he'd been doing.
Robin pouted, but his mother started singing another summer song, and she began teaching it to the children, who didn't know it from before, so Robin soon forgot to pay Arthen any mind. And Arthen pretended he was engrossed in what he was doing, but he caught himself spying on the cheerful way in which his wife was singing and playing with the children. Of late he'd been able to perceive she was often cheerful in a way she'd not been before. The Rowena he recalled from before she'd gone away had smiled and laughed at times, in a bright, dazzling way which made others pause to stare and admire her beauty. The woman who'd come back was different. She did not burn bright and did not seem concerned to have other people's regard at all times. Instead of burning bright, she glowed. It was as if she seemed happy to look upon the things around her, rather than have others look upon her. Arthen had often caught her smile in the morning at the way the sunlight poured into their kitchen or when she glanced upon Robin at play. Before, Rowena had seemed restless and forever frenzied, always in search for better things, and always accusing him that the life they shared was small and lacking in everything. But ever since she'd come back, she'd seemed content and calm, mindful of others, and genuinely happy to be reunited with her son.
Arthen was woken from the train of his thoughts by the voices of the children who had at last decided to return their attention upon him.
"You didn't want to sing," Will said accusingly. "So tell a story!"