Unexpected Circumstances - the Complete Series

  “Yes.” I looked down at my hands where they wrung the sheets.

  “I didn’t touch her,” he said definitively. “I have no reason to lie to you about this, Alexandra.”

  It was true. Wife or not, if he chose to bed another, it would be an embarrassment, but there would be nothing I could do about it. Lying would serve no purpose, for I could not accuse him of anything. Yet here I was, accusing two noblewomen of wrongdoing.

  “What will happen now?” I asked quietly.

  “With Kimberly and Nelle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have not yet decided.” Branford shifted a little closer to me. “I don’t wish to talk about them. It’s getting late, and you look exhausted. We have much to speak of, but before I tell you anything else about me, I’ve been…instructed to explain my behavior this evening. Sunniva seems to think it’s rather critical to knowing me, and though I can’t say that I want to do this, I’m going to tell you what happened to…to my parents.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I told him.

  “Actually, yes, I do. Sunniva made it pretty clear it was part of her mandate. Regardless, it is too long a story for this hour and will have to wait until morning.”

  I nodded, feeling my fatigue. It seemed these past days, though little work was involved, held more hours than any other days in my life.

  “You have not responded to my request,” Branford said softly. “Will you please tell me before we lie down? Otherwise I fear I will not be able to sleep.”

  “What request?” I asked.

  “Will you give me another chance?” Branford asked. “Will you let me try to be a good husband to you?”

  I did not know how I should respond. He spoke of choices, but was there really any choice in this for me? We were already wed in the church, and anyone would know that we had been together if I stayed here in Silverhelm. I dreaded the idea of going to another land where everything would be strange, and I would have no one there I knew. What choice did I have whether he wished to be good to me or not?

  “I…I don’t know what that means,” I admitted. “To be a good husband…or wife.”

  “Could we figure it out together?”

  I looked up and met his eyes, bright green and earnest.

  “I wish to ask you something,” Branford said. He sat back away from me a little and placed his hands on his thighs. “When you answer, I need your honesty. Please, do not answer in a certain way because you believe it to be my desire to hear the words.”

  “If you wish,” I replied.

  “Do you want to be my wife?”

  All breath left me, and I could not speak a word. How could I answer a question honestly when I didn’t really understand what it meant? Indeed, he did not seem to know either.

  “Does your silence mean the answer is no?”

  I took a deep breath and forced words from my throat, as truthful as I could be.

  “I don't know.”

  “That's fair, considering how I have failed you,” Branford said with a nod. “I haven't been a husband to you thus far. I haven't considered your needs except when they fall in line with what I want.”

  “What do you want?” I finally asked.

  Branford reached out and cupped my chin, tilting my face toward him as he liked to do when he spoke directly to me.

  “I want to be a good husband to you,” Branford said quietly. “I enjoy waking up with you in my arms. I want to take care of you and keep you safe…protect you. I want to be in the arenas, look at the spectators, and see you watching me. I want to offer you whatever prize I take home.”

  He reached up with his other hand and caught my face between his palms. His dark eyes gazed at me, and I could feel my will slowly seep into them.

  “I want to show you pleasure,” he whispered. “I want to see desire in your eyes when you look upon me. I want to know you, Alexandra, and I want you to know me.”

  My heart began to beat harder, which reminded me of the feeling of his hand as it danced over the sensitive flesh of my breast. I remembered the feeling that ensued so far away from his exploring fingers and how he seemed to know exactly what I felt.

  “We agreed upon three days,” Branford said suddenly, and I wondered if he could hear my thoughts. “Pray, would you consider allowing me to alter the deal?”

  “Alter it?”

  “If after three days, you decide you no longer wish to be my wife, we will find a way for you to be safe and provided for but still free from me if that is your desire. If I have proven myself to you—earned your forgiveness—we will consummate our marriage.”

  I stared at him, unable to form a reply.

  “The timing would be the same,” Branford said, continuing. “This was supposed to be our first night. Since we will be in each other’s company, I think I could keep our other plans…well…on schedule.”

  I dug my teeth into my bottom lip and found I had to look away from the blazing green eyes that threatened, yet again, to capture me. After everything that had occurred, the unknown had a brand new appeal it never had before. Even considering the idea of beginning again in a new place was more frightening than staying under any circumstances. Despite my concerns, I could feel the increase in my heartbeat as his fingers graced over my cheek. When he spoke of our “other plans,” a deep ache surfaced in the most intimate area of my body.

  “I beg you, Alexandra,” Branford said when I still hadn’t responded. “Will you allow me? Will you allow me to make amends to you?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to tell him no, that I just wanted to go as far away as I could, but another part of me wanted to wake up in the morning, surrounded by the warm strength of his arms. When my silence became too much for him, he spoke again, his tone more earnest than before.

  “Are you agreeable, Alexandra?”

  I recalled my answer to the same question back in the stables in Hadebrand, just three short days before, and how it had altered my existence. If it were possible for him to offer to send me back to my life prior to meeting him, I would have gladly taken it. But that option was no longer available to me.

  “Please, Alexandra.” Branford’s eyes spoke of his desperation. Indeed, they seemed to beg me as much as his words. “Please let me use the next three days to make up for the last three.”

  My heart pounded. I knew I was at a crossroads, and my reply may bring me either happiness or misery, but I did not know which path I should take. With thoughts born of hope and fear, I finally gave him my answer.

  “Yes, my…Branford.”

  And that was how our marriage began again.

  Chapter 10—Grudgingly Recount

  I woke again to the warmth of my husband’s embrace.

  When we had lain down to sleep, Branford had kept his distance. He had reached over to grasp my hand and place a small kiss on my knuckles before wishing me good night, but I had not fallen asleep in his arms as I had the two nights prior. Regardless, that’s where I found myself in the morning, unsure of how I had arrived in such a position but not feeling uneasy about it. Like it had been before, his embrace felt comfortable and reassuring even when his words and actions did not.

  The fire still burned brightly, so I knew I hadn’t slept for long. Under my head, I could feel the increased rate of Branford’s heart and the nearly gasping breaths he took. I turned to look into his face and could see his eyes moving quickly under their lids and the hard set of his jaw. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed much too rapidly for peaceful sleep.

  I reached up and slowly stroked the side of his face. He flinched when I first touched him and then slowly relaxed. I felt the constricted muscles of his arms and chest as they loosened, and his breath and pounding heart gradually returned to a more normal sleeping rate. He turned his head into my hand, and he let out one last, heavy sigh as his arms tightened around me briefly.

  I took my own deep breath and settled back against him but kept my hand resting agai
nst his cheek. I wondered what dream he may have had to cause such a reaction in him or if he would remember it when he woke in the morning. I hoped he would not because even now that he had relaxed, his face was still tight, and he did not appear the least bit peaceful. I let my eyes flutter shut and listened to the sounds of my husband’s deep breathing as I drifted back to sleep.

  The next time I opened my eyes, I could see the dim light from the windows and feel Branford’s hand as it traveled over the top of my head and down my hair, slowly stroking the strands from top to bottom. As I had before, I for fear of his touch to engulf me, but lying here in our bed, there was none. I blinked my eyes a few times to get used to the light and then looked up into Branford’s gaze.

  The expression in his eyes was difficult to determine—a strange cross between concern, hope, and trepidation. He flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip, and his hand paused in its movements on my hair.

  “Good morning, Alexandra,” he finally said.

  “Good morning, Branford,” I replied. “Did you sleep well?”

  “No,” he answered immediately, “but waking up was still a very pleasant experience.”

  I felt the heat rise to my face.

  “Are you uncomfortable?” Branford asked. “It wasn’t my intent to sleep this way. You rolled over and…well, here we are.”

  “It’s all right,” I said, feeling the heat in my face increasing.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

  “Not right now,” I answered as truthfully as I could.

  “Even after what I have done?”

  I didn’t answer because I had no words for it. Yes, I was still afraid of him. I was afraid of that part of him that seemed so quick to anger without reason. However, lying here with his arms around me, I could feel how the strength of him was also for my benefit.

  “I feel…safe here…in your arms.”

  “I want you to feel safe,” Branford said. “Protecting you is very important to me.”

  Of all the other things he had said, this was the one remark that rang the truest to my ears.

  “I didn’t protect you yesterday”—Branford’s arms tightened a little—“not from Kimberly or Nelle and not from myself either. It’s the one part of being a husband I thought I knew how to do.”

  Again, he brought his fingers to my chin and tilted my head to look at him.

  “I will do better,” he said in earnest. “You will never be without trusted protection again.”

  I could only nod in response, which shifted my head away from his touch. He stroked his hand back down my arm and eventually to my fingers. He brought them to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

  “I promise,” he said, and I tried to make myself believe him.

  I excused myself to dress and saw the offending garment was no longer on the floor behind the screen. I wondered what Branford had done with it, but mostly I was glad it was no longer within my sight. Perhaps he had burned the horrible thing. I would not have minded.

  As I removed my nightdress and pulled on my clothing for the day, I winced a little as the fabric brushed over my shoulder. I remembered scraping my skin on the stone wall and had to swallow hard before I could draw proper breath again. I chanced a look at my right arm where Branford’s fingers had gripped me so hard. There were distinct bruises on my skin though they weren’t bad and wouldn’t last but a few days. I had certainly had worse at Princess Whitney’s hand, and that had been just for being in the way and not for suspected treachery.

  Breakfast was delivered shortly after we woke. Branford was visibly annoyed to have breakfast brought to us instead of being able to head out of the rooms, but he sighed and finally opened the door. As the line of servants entered, carrying trays of fragrant foods, Branford was obviously on edge—his eyes darting back and forth between them as they entered, fulfilled their tasks, and then quickly moved around Branford and back out the door. They averted their eyes from him, I noticed, and seemed to be very eager to complete their duties and get out of his way. I remembered another lord in Hadebrand who was often approached the same way—with head down and a wish to remain invisible. He was known to strike servants for not being quick enough or diligent enough. I wondered if Branford was the same way.

  I made a point of thanking the last servant—a girl not much younger than I—and she nodded quickly before scurrying off. As she left the rooms, I noticed the broken couch and table were no longer in the morning room. In fact, another couch and chair were already in their places.

  We sat down in the plush chairs near the fire, our meals on our laps, eating in silence as the sun rose higher in the sky, and light poured through the windows. I was famished, having not managed to eat anything the night before. If I had tried at that time, my stomach probably would not have been able to digest anything without causing me pain. I considered asking Branford who had cleaned up the remnants of his ire but determined that course of action to be less than advantageous. Instead, I ate my meal with only the occasional glance at my husband. Every time I looked at him, he was looking back at me. He did not appear to be eating his breakfast, but mostly shuffling the food around in a circle.

  Branford finally stopped playing around with his breakfast, set the plate off to one side, and let out a deep sigh. He stretched his neck, shuffled his feet, and then repositioned himself in his chair. He looked at me, then out the window, then back at me again. He stood abruptly, went to the window to stare out into the sky, and then sat himself back down in the chair across from me.

  “Sunniva said I had to tell you…tell you about why…” He stopped and looked down at his hands in his lap. He sighed once more and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he appeared determined. “She said I needed to tell you about my parents and what happened to them.”

  I nodded, not daring to speak. I wasn’t sure I wished to hear this story, especially given Branford’s reluctance to tell it, but the queen seemed to think it was important for him to tell me, so I chose not to dissuade him with any words at all.

  “This is not something I talk about,” Branford said solemnly. “Not even with Ida.”

  Branford was silent for a while, and I sat looking at my lap and fidgeting. I resisted the urge to tell him he did not have to speak of it since I knew Queen Sunniva had ordered him to do so. I continued to hold my tongue and waited for him to continue.

  “I was seven years old,” Branford said. “My birthday had been celebrated just a few weeks prior. Ida was ill, and she and I were both to stay behind with our nursemaid when our parents were to travel to Sawyer for the summer assemblage of all the neighboring courts. Normally, Ida and I would have gone with them, but they seemed to think since Ida was sick, we should both stay behind. I was angry—I had a bit of a temper then, too—and did not want to be left behind. When no one was looking, I climbed in the carriage and hid under a blanket.”

  Branford chuckled softly to himself.

  “I don’t know why I thought I wouldn’t be seen, sitting in the middle of the floor with a blanket over my head. When my parents got in the carriage, they knew I was there immediately, of course. My mother sighed and scolded me, then picked me up and sat me down beside her. My father called out to the driver—I don’t recall his name, only that he had been driving for them as long as I could remember—and we started off. Four guards on horseback rode in groups of two on either side of us.”

  “The guards were named Dalton, Kolby, Yagmur and Salik.” Branford shifted slightly in his seat. “I remember them all quite well. At least one of them had been by my side since I was a toddler, watching over me and making sure I was safe wherever I went. They watched over Ida, my parents—the entire household. Even Kimberly and Nelle, when they came to live with us.”

  “They lived with you as children?” I asked, immediately regretting my interruption, but the words were already out.

  “Yes,” Branford said. “Their mother was my mother’s sister. Her husband had already pass
ed, and she fell ill—one of the first to die of the plague that would later be linked to the destruction of Eagle—and her daughters came to live with us. My mother swore to her sister she would raise her daughters as her own and that they would always be cared for and protected. It was the final wish of my aunt, and my mother promised to honor it.”

  He huffed a breath out his nose and then continued.

  “Dalton and Kolby were younger than Yagmur and Salik and usually kept close to me when I was out. They taught me the basics of sword fighting when I was quite young—archery, too, though I was never very good at it. Salik taught me to ride, and Yagmur lectured me constantly on the duties of a young lord and what would be expected of me as I came of age. In the years they were with us, they were like members of our family. It was like I had four extra fathers or maybe favorite uncles. I looked up to each and every one of them and went to bed every night, feeling secure that they were watching over us and keeping us safe.”

  “My father trusted them implicitly,” Branford said. “I remember when Dalton was showing me just how good he was with a bow, and in his hand, my father held out an apple for Dalton to shoot. He split it in half, and we planted the seeds after we ate it. One of the trees still grows just outside Sterling Castle.”

  “We had been on the road no more than a couple of hours—not even half the trip—when my father glanced out the window and called up to the driver. I don’t remember exactly what he said, only that he didn’t think we were on the right road any longer. He thought the driver had taken a wrong turn. I remember him calling out for Dalton and Salik—they were riding on his side of the carriage—and asking for an explanation.”

  “The carriage started to slow down, and my mother said…”

  Branford stopped, and I watched his hands ball into fists as his breathing became more labored.

  “She said,” he went on, “that something didn’t feel right. She said she could hear more horses riding behind us.”

  He paused. He slowly forced his fingers open and then rubbed his palms down the top of his thighs.