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“Am I the first?” I blurt out.
She pauses, glaring at me with that same judgmental look she always carries.
“The first what?”
“The first … wife?” I don’t know how else to explain it. No one tells me anything, and I’ve not been out of this room for days on end.
“Patriarch Noah has not had a wife before you.”
Well, it wasn’t the answer I was looking for … but I guess it’s useful information.
She pulls some strings on the back of the dress and practically suffocates me. “Stay still.”
“That’s hard when you can’t breathe,” I say.
She pulls the strings even tighter. “There.”
She grabs my hair and brushes it through with a brush she keeps in a pocket along with other tools that are attached to her skirt. I bet she does this for all the women here.
“Feet up,” she says, and when I do, she puts tiny little pumps on my feet that barely fit. “Hmm … I’ll make a note for the shoemaker to increase the size.”
“Do you do this to all the wives here?” I ask.
“Yes,” she replies. It’s probably the first real answer I’ve gotten from her.
“Who else has a wife?” I ask as she twirls around me to do my hair. “Do all the patriarchs pick a random girl from the community to be their wife?”
She throws me a look. “The fathers choose a wife for the sons. That is patriarchal custom. Of course, all patriarchs fulfill their duty to the Lord.”
“Right … children for the Lord,” I mutter.
But Noah’s father didn’t pick me, right? So Noah went against the rules.
She sticks a pin in my hair, but it’s pushed back so far that it begins to sting. “And you will do the same.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat when she says that.
“You know I’m not a virgin, right?” I add.
I’ve said it a few times before, but apparently, it doesn’t faze them at all. I thought Emmy said they only accepted virgins in this place? What’s changed?
“The patriarchs choose who they deem right for them. It is not up to us to judge.”
“So they get to bend the rules,” I say.
“Enough.” She pats me on the back. “Patriarch Noah has asked for you to join him.”
She nudges me toward the door. Down we go along the giant staircase until we reach a door to the left where she stops. She shoves aside the two sliding doors to reveal a big dining hall with a large oak table in the middle and red leather chairs. And on several of them sit some of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met.
Four patriarchs, one of whom is Noah, and three of them turn around to look … at me.
Chapter 19
Natalie
My eyes widen, and I freeze in place as their gazes settle on me. But more importantly, Noah’s penetrative gaze, which says more than words ever could. Those eyes could set a girl’s body ablaze, and with just a single look, he’s made me the object of everyone’s fascination, including his. Almost as if to say … she’s mine, back off.
A blush spreads on my face.
I don’t mean for it to happen, but my body responds to him in ways I can’t explain and don’t even dare to talk about.
“Natalie, how kind of you to join us,” Noah says as he approaches me. He places a kiss on the top of my hand and gazes at me from underneath his lashes, the look bold and captivating as though he’s telling me this won’t be the only body part he’ll be kissing tonight.
A sudden slam makes me jolt from surprise. An older man’s hand is smashed onto the table, a napkin underneath. He turns his head toward Noah. He’s the only one who hasn’t looked at me. He clears his throat.
“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Noah suddenly says, and he pulls me with him toward the table.
“Noah, what’s the meaning of this?”
The man refuses to look, even as I stand beside the table, right where Noah was seated.
“Have you forgotten the rules?”
“I haven’t,” Noah replies. “But I think this is more important than the rules.”
“Nothing is more important than the rules,” the man says, still refusing to look at me. “You out of everyone should know that by now.”
The man gets up and, without even glancing at me, leaves the room. I stare at the doors through which he left until another elder closes them again. Seems like Noah’s got some issues with this particular patriarch. This could get interesting.
Noah snorts, shaking his head, and he redirects his attention toward me. “No matter. I’ll deal with that later.”
“Who was that?” I whisper as he brings me toward a seat.
“My father.”
I gulp at his response, but he pulls back a seat, and says, “Sit.”
Everyone else glares at him.
“This is Patrick,” he says, pointing at one of the men sitting at the table, “a fellow patriarch. But I think you two already met before … at the Jacuzzi.”
