Any more than she might already be that was.
And if Marshall had his way, she’d be the same as everyone else. It wouldn’t be long before she too believed he was capable of killing the woman he’d once loved.
Chapter Twelve
As soon as Cillian neared the house, Ivy sprung away from the windowsill, tossed aside her knitting, and dashed downstairs. She had no idea what the angry exchange was about or who that man was, but she saw Cillian’s deeply furrowed brow and the balled fists at this side. Whatever had happened, her husband was furious.
His gaze flew to her the moment he stepped into the hall. “What are you doing down here? I told you to stay where you were.”
She might have been stung by the irritation in his voice were it not for the pain evident in his eye. Lines were etched between his brows, his jaw remained set. Whoever that man was, the conversation weighed heavily on her husband’s shoulders. Gone was the open, curious man who had asked about her knitting. The man who touched her softly and kissed her gently had vanished. In its place was a man who looked like he had just been beaten in battle.
“Who was that?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“No one.” He tried to step around her, but Ivy shadowed his steps.
“Cillian—”
“It was no one damn it.”
The barked words made her heart jump into her throat. She drew in a slow breath and lifted her chin. The temptation to flee made her feet twitch but fleeing was what had put them in this position in the first place. If she had not wished to flee a ball, they never would have married.
They’d tiptoed around each other for too long. She wanted more. Needed more.
Needed the truth from him.
Just once.
“Who was that?” she repeated more calmly than she thought possible.
“Ivy, it was no one,” he replied through clenched teeth.
“If it was no one why did you look as though you had seen a ghost?”
“Ivy—”
“I’m your wife, damn it all!”
She nearly clamped her lips shut. She never cursed. Well, at least not aloud, to other people. Sometimes she might in her head or utter one under her breath when she stubbed a toe.
Cillian was as taken aback by it as her, if his raised brows were anything to go by.
“I’m your wife.” She put hands to her hips, mimicking the stance she’d seen Lilly take many a time when confronting anyone who was being horrible to Ivy. “And I deserve to know what is going on, most especially if there is a man on the lands who makes you look so...so...” She waved a hand about his face. “So like an ogre.”
“An ogre?”
“Well, yes.” She gave a little nod.
“An ogre,” he murmured, as though he had never heard the word before.
“My point is, I should like to know what just occurred. Who was that man?”
His jaw twitched. He glanced behind her as though looking for an escape, so she remained firmly in front of him.
“A friend once upon a time,” he finally uttered.
“A friend.”
“Yes.”