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He took another half step back, released me, and reached his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it and causing his locks to flair out all around his head.
“How old are you, Alexandra?”
“I was born in autumn,” I told him. “This is my seventeenth spring.”
Sir Branford closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long, slow breath. His hand again ran through his hair before he slowly opened his lids and looked at me once more. His eyes went from dark and burning to slowly cooling, emerald embers. I didn’t understand his expression, but it was clear he wasn’t happy. I must have displeased him, but how? I told him I was pure—what else could I have said? Was there something I was supposed to be doing?
I had no idea.
“Alexandra, my beautiful wife,” he said softly, reaching for me again and stroking across my cheek. “Watching you all night has enticed me so, I’ve forgotten my manners.”
He took another step away from me, his hands dropping back to his sides. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. He drove his hand through his hair again, and I wondered if he did that often. Again, I realized how little I knew of my husband, and I furtively dug my nails into the palms of my hands, apprehension overwhelming me.
“I owe you an apology,” Sir Branford said quietly. “This is all too much for you, isn’t it? Perhaps we need to talk for a moment.”
“An apology?” What did he mean? Would he dismiss me now, realizing I was a mistake? Where would I go? Had I upset him? Angered him? I had to do something to make this right. Horrible thoughts of what might become of me if he turned me away now ran through my head.
“There is a kettle near the fire,” Sir Branford said abruptly before I could speak. “Make tea while I…while I compose myself.”
A modicum of relief washed over me at his simple request. At least making tea was something I knew how to do.
“If you wish, my lord.”
I bowed my head slightly and tried to decide if I truly felt relieved at this turn of events or if this would only prolong my anxiety. I went to the fire where I found the kettle, a pitcher of water, and loose tea in a pouch. I placed the kettle over the fire and sat on a little sto
ol, waiting for the water to boil. The coals of the fire were quite hot, and the water boiled rapidly. I placed the soaking pouch in the water to let it steep. I kept my eyes on my work, and after a few minutes, Sir Branford pulled another stool up close to me and sat down. I held a cup of tea out for him, which he took and sipped before setting it down again. He reached over and caressed my cheek.
“Alexandra,” Sir Branford said, tilting my head up to his. “As my wife, I have certain expectations of you. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Yes, my lord,” I whispered. I simply couldn't make my voice go any louder, still unsure exactly how angry he was with me. I hadn’t meant to upset him—truly I hadn’t.
“The first expectation I have is that you will always treat me with respect.”
“Of course, my lord.” Had I been disrespectful? Did he think I meant to refuse him? I swallowed hard.
“I expect you to keep my rooms in order and conduct yourself in such a way as not to embarrass me.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I expect you to care for me as a wife should. You will cook and clean for me and take care of my needs. Someday, I will expect you to bear my children.”
I dropped my eyes, unable to look at him any longer. I knew what was supposed to happen. I knew what was expected from a wife on her wedding night. I hadn’t meant for him to stop. I would perform my duties as best I could though I did not know the details of what he would want from me. I did know the basics, as any woman with ears would know.
“Alexandra.” Branford tapped his finger under my chin, and I took a deep breath before trying to meet his eyes again.
“I understand what is required of me, my lord,” I said. I felt the panic and fear bubble over into my words. I wasn’t sure exactly what it would mean if he were to cast me aside now, but I was sure it would not be good. “I will be a proper wife to you. I promise. I swear it! I didn’t mean for you to stop…”
Sir Branford cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Alexandra,” he repeated, “the expectations I have of you do not include allowing me to have my way with you before you are ready.”
I'm sure my eyes widened in shock as I tried to comprehend his words.
“You said you were innocent—a virgin, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.” I could hardly hear my own voice.
“Have you had any experiences? Have you ever had your mouth on a man?”
