Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,66
there.”
“Do they trouble you?”
“Sometimes in the cold weather, they itch a little. The only trouble they give me is knowing that the man who administered them was never brought to justice. I had to seek my own retribution.”
“Who was he?” she asked.
He sighed and averted his gaze. “Can’t you guess?”
Her wrist ached in memory of Alderley’s vice-like grip, the day he’d instructed his brutish footmen to discipline her.
“My father,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Few people know.” He narrowed his eyes as if in pain.
She reached out and caught his hand. “Will you tell me now?”
The bed shifted under his weight as he sat on it. “There’s little to tell,” he said. “It happened when I was nine years old when we lived in the shadow of the Alderley estate. My sister Lilah was caught up in a scrape involving Alderley’s son and his friend. They caught her playing in the woods and tormented her. She came home, crying, bruised, and scratched. She’s always been a tough little fighter—more than a match for two boys. But I couldn’t let it rest. Our parents had died, and Lilah was my responsibility. I demanded an audience with Lord Alderley.”
He shook his head. “I was naïve enough to believe we lived in a fair world and that men in authority understood the difference between right and wrong.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“Alderley accused me of spreading lies about his son and had me thrashed.” He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow. “Twenty lashes, and I remember every one. They say the pain can be borne, provided the skin doesn’t break. Alderley broke the skin on the second lash. After that, all I saw was blood. I thought that if I focused on the blood at my feet, I could forget the pain. But I failed. I was weak—and for months afterward, all my dreams were filled with blood and fire.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
He covered her hand with his own and caressed it, then met her gaze. Her heart almost broke at the vulnerability in his expression.
“Even now, I cannot bear the sight of blood,” he said. “The slightest drop and I find myself unable to breathe.”
“Then, when you cut your hand, the day after our wedding…”
“It took all my strength not to pass out,” he said. “But you were there, with your soft voice and kind hands, despite how afraid you must have been that day.”
He lifted his lips into a smile, and his eyes sparkled. “I think, even then, I was already beginning to fall in love with you.”
She took his face in her hands and pulled him to her for a kiss.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” she said. “It must have been hard for you.”
“No, not hard,” he whispered. “I find it the easiest thing in the world to trust you, Meggie.
He held his palm up, his fingers splayed out.
“Take my hand.”
She took it, and he interlocked his fingers with hers. He tightened the grip until his fingertips dug into her hand, and she did likewise.
“Let us pledge, here and now,” he said, “that there shall be no more secrets from each other. As a mark of our faith—and love.”
She nodded, and he captured her mouth in a kiss. Then he rose from the bed.
“You have no idea how much it means to me, Meggie, to have someone in this world I can trust completely.”
He blew her a kiss and disappeared through the adjoining door to his chamber. Not long after, she heard the murmur of voices as his valet helped him dress.
He trusted her—he loved her!
But the thrill in knowing that he did, was tempered by the fear that he’d discover her secret—the secret she dared not tell him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A light breeze rippled in the trees as Dexter strolled alongside the Serpentine, his wife on his arm. Though he received the occasional haughty stare, many of the couples they passed were civil enough to exchange a word or two.
Each time someone drew near, his wife’s hand tightened its grip on his arm. Though he took pleasure knowing she viewed him as a source of strength, he also knew that she needed to learn to weather London independently.
And a public excursion was the best way to achieve that.
“How are you bearing up, my dear?” he asked.
“It’s not as bad as I feared,” she said. “Some of the people are quite friendly. I particularly liked the tall lady with the red hair.”
“Countess Stiles,” Dexter said. “The