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She read to him, and later they discussed books, music, and art. Or rather, he listened to her talk as he made noncommittal grunts and occasional appreciative murmurs.
Being so close to her and yet parting at the end of the night sometimes felt like torture. It definitely made his days uncomfortable. But after using her for his own pleasure without giving anything back but pain, he decided to take it slow. He needed to let her relax around him more and make her feel comfortable without demanding anything in return. She was giving him too much as it was, and he didn’t want to ruin it.
Besides, John loved her companionship more than anything. When he was with her, he forgot all the horrors of war, all the blood, mayhem, and ugliness that had been such a big part of his life for nearly a decade, and he found himself wishing he could spend more of his day with her. He had to restrain himself from taking a day off so that he could just spend the whole day frolicking in the woods with her, or spend it in the library, tucked against each other by the fire.
But he didn’t trust himself to be around her for long periods. His mood swings still affected him. John still had the blasted headaches, especially when something inadvertently reminded him of the war. He’d wake up screaming and sweating, feeling suffocated if he rolled too far from the balcony doors. He needed to see the night sky instead of the ceiling, or he panicked until he got up and roamed around the estate at night. He wondered if Sam heard the noises he made at night. Although her room was several doors away from his, he was sure he was screaming loud enough to be heard down the hall, but she never said anything to him.
The nightmares and occasional fits aside, he still felt as if the world had finally righted itself. Until the day when everything went wrong.
John came to work early in the morning only to find several new workers. He frowned and wondered where they had come from. Still, more able-bodied workers could not possibly hurt. He approached the group of men.
“Where are you lads from?” he asked as soon as they were done with pleasantries.
“All over really,” one of them answered. “We saw the advertisement in the morning paper yesterday and took the first hackney to Bedford. I assume more people will be arriving in the next few days too.”
John’s frown turned into a scowl.What advertisement?
“Good thinking, sir,” Christopher remarked. “Hiring more soldiers, promising them the cottages once they’re renovated. Should have done it sooner too, I reckon.”
“Soldiers?” John looked at the group of new men more carefully. Their clothing was clean and pressed, but it was obvious it had seen better days. They looked ordered and tidy, but the weary lines on their foreheads and their haunted looks indicated that they’d gone through hell. The war.
A familiar noise buzzed in his head. He winced and took a step back. He didn’t need more war chatter; he didn’t need these painful reminders every day of the week. The men continued talking and getting acquainted, but John didn’t hear them anymore.
“Christopher, you take the lead today, I need to go,” he barked and left the field. His confused new tenants stared after him.
John didn’t know how he reached home. His head ached, the buzz wouldn’t subside, and his hands were shaking. Only years in the army and his trained body prevented him from falling off the horse in the middle of the road. He stalked into the manor, panting. His hands were clenched in tight fists and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He was angry with his wife, because nobody else would be audacious enough to send the advertisement inviting the soldiers to his estate without even telling him. They’d spent every evening of the past week together and she couldn’t have told him?
John rushed up the stairs. He needed to barricade himself in his room until he felt better, otherwise, there was no telling what he’d do in this state of mind. But as soon as he rounded the corner, he ran into Sam.
Her eyes lit up as she saw him and a smile broke out on her face. “You’re home.”
“Yes, thanks to you.” He pushed past her and continued down the corridor.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked, following him. Her voice sounded confused and bewildered.
John whirled on her. “And why would I be angry? Because you went behind my back and invited all of England’s soldiers to my estate?”
Her mouth opened in surprise. John fisted his hands tighter. He didn’t mean to yell at her, but he couldn’t hold back. He needed to hide out and wait for this mood to pass.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” she said, a confused frown marring her beautiful face.
John took a deep breath so as not to implode. “You of all people know that I do my best to avoid soldiers, to avoid crowds of people and anything that would remind me of the war. You saw what it does to me! Why in the devil would you think I’d be pleased?”
She reared back as if he’d hit her. John closed his eyes, praying for patience. “I need to calm down. Please, do not follow me or God help me, I might hurt you.” He turned on his heel and stalked farther down the corridor.
“But you were all right when Christopher joined you. You said he was your best worker!” His wife didn’t heed his warning and stalked after him.
“Sam, leave me alone, I am warning you!”
“No, you don’t get to shut me out just because we’ve had a hiccup in our relationship.”
“A hiccup?” He opened the door to his chambers and stopped cold. The room was cleaned, the drapes missing, and his blankets by the balcony doors were gone too. He felt his wife hovering behind him in indecision.
“What in the hell happened to my room?” He turned on Sam slowly.
Her eyes were frantic, and she was twisting her hands in front of her. “I ordered it cleaned.”
“I can see that. But where are my blankets?”
