Kassandra steps inside the same tent that she brushed my hair in. With a wave of her hand, she motions for me to follow her. I trail her inside the tiny interior. It boasts just enough room for a small bed and a table. On top of the table sits a large satchel. Kassandra rummages around with the clothes inside and pulls free a nightdress.
She turns and offers it to me. “You’re welcome to have it.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t.”
“Psh.” She places it in my hands. “I want you to have it.”
I accept the kind offering and clutch it to my chest. Tonight is my wedding night with a barbarian warrior—the type of man who will climb on top of me, force himself inside me, and pant until he reaches completion.
I blink and try to force away the memories I always try to forget. They will not be suppressed. They crash over me. Each one stronger, more vivid. Each one raising hesitation against my skin.
The men were always the same that came to Father’s brothel. They didn’t care if the door was open, or if their loud breathing pierced the thin walls. I saw everything. Heard everything.
Gabriel is no different than those men. He’s Bloodstone. He’s used to taking what he wants. He won’t care about going slow because it’s my first time.
I raise a fist to my mouth, fighting the powerful urge to voice my dismay. The last thing I want is Gabriel’s invasion.
Mother, help me.
Give me strength.
The memory of her smile calms my mind.
There’s nothing that could happen tonight that is worse than what she endured at the hand of that savage Roland.
I’ll give her the peace she deserves. I’ll vindicate her.
First, I must get through tonight.
ChapterFourteen
Torchlight illuminates Gabriel’s tent as I undress. Inwardly, I curse my choices that led me here. Caught between being sent back and failing, I made the only decision that would gain the Bloodstones’ trust.
Growing up in a brothel never adequately prepared me for marriage. I saw the women there, how they talked to men, lured men. I know everything that happens between a man and a woman in bed except how it feels.
This marriage isn’t real.
Even as I think those words, the weight of the vow I spoke feels real. The tattoo etched into my left wrist feels real too. Everything about this day feels real. The fact that at any moment the tent flap will open, and Gabriel will enter, feelsveryreal. He will expect me to be his dutiful wife.
My focus shifts to the bed, and my stomach lurches. I exhale and rip my gaze away. Why didn’t I prepare better? Surely, one night with a man would have lessened my nerves and allowed me to perform the way Gabriel would expect.
The Seer’s words pierce my ears.“Olah approves.”
Surely, Olah, the god of all Tarrobane barbarians, doesn’t care.
Gabriel is just a man. I’m just a woman.
The flap lifts, and Gabriel enters the tent. The moment he steps inside, and the linen fabric settles into place, the interior seems smaller, and he seems closer. Too close.
He doesn’t meet my eyes as he crosses the room and pauses in front of the washing stand. He cleans his hands, then removes his surcoat. I brace for him to undress fully in front of me. It will not be the first time I have seen a man without clothes. I spent enough time in an army full of men to not shy away from their nudity.
Earlier, I had touched him, felt his strength beneath my fingers. Now, I’ll finally see the rest of him.
Muscles flex in his arms and shoulders as Gabriel rotates, still wearing his pants and boots. In slow, precise movements, he folds the surcoat and places it on the table.
As I stand and turn toward the bed, those images from the brothel return. I shake my head, trying to shake those memories away. They still blind me. The men pounding the women. The women moaning as if they took pleasure from the invasion.
Maybe some of them did. At least, they seemed to when they talked about their favorites. I move to the mattress and lie flat on my back.
