Page 47 of The Rum and The Fox

They were married.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her eyes as Ash reached out and took her hand.

“Come now, love. I’m not a monster, you know, I would never hurt you or … or cause you the least distress.”

The kindness in his eyes, the kindness of everything he had done when she could give so little in return, made her want to cry all the more, but she refused to be a watering pot on their wedding night. She had agreed to this, she had accepted him for her own selfish reasons, the least … the very least that she could do was to play her part.

“I know that, Ash,” she said, wiping her eyes and forcing a smile to her face. “I-I’m just being silly, that’s all. Nerves, I suppose,” she added, which was true enough. She had no illusions about what happened between a man and a woman. Her father’s wild parties and low company had given her ample opportunity to grasp the mechanics of it. Nothing she had seen had made her very eager to take part herself, however, and Keziah discovered she was feeling a lot less brave than she might have imagined.

She found she was grateful to the housekeeper for placing them at the farthest corner from the Reverend’s bedroom. Any suspicion that he might have been able to hear them was too dreadful to contemplate. She remembered the raucous screams and cries that would come from the guest rooms when her father was flush and his decadent parties were legend. Oh, God. She could only hope that Ash did not expect such behaviour from her, not yet, at least, for she couldn’t begin to imagine it possible.

But Ash simply stood watching her, his eyes cautious. He held her hands in his before taking a breath.

“I made you a promise, Keziah,” he began, looking increasingly awkward. “So if ... if you would rather not … What I mean to say is … I can sleep in the chair,” he said. He gave her a warm smile, and for a moment the agreement to this plan hovered on her tongue. But then she caught the depth of sorrow in his eyes. No. She had made her bed in every sense of the phrase, now to lie in it.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t pleasing to look at. He was handsome, and she was sure he would be kind … at least, as kind as men ever seemed to be in such circumstances.

She swallowed, pushing away disturbing memories and forcing herself to shake her head.

“No. You are my husband now, and … No,” she trailed off, unable to say anything further and giving him an uncertain smile. She found herself quite unable to regret her decision as she heard him sigh and saw the happiness light his eyes.

“I know this was not what you wanted, Keziah,” he said, his voice soft and so full of understanding that she felt a lump rise in her throat. “But I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power not to give you cause to regret it.

“I know,” she whispered, meaning it and almost wishing he wasn’t so dreadfully kind, as then she’d not feel such a wretch.

He reached out a tentative hand, touching her face, trailing his fingers along her jaw.

“May I kiss you?”

She laughed at that, though it was an hesitant sound, tinged with panic. “I’m your wife,” she said, quite unable to look him in the eyes. “I imagine you may do as you please.”

His hand stilled for a moment before he took hold of her chin between finger and thumb, making her look into his eyes. “That I will never do,” he said, his voice holding a thread of anger now. “I will never take what you have no desire to give, do you understand?”

She nodded, blinking away tears as she realised she’d offended him. Oh God, this was all such a dreadful mistake.

“I-I’m sorry, Ash,” she began, but her words were stolen as his lips met hers in a kiss.