“Not hardly,” I correct her automatically. “We go back a long time.”
I choose, however, not to bring up my brother by name. It causes too much pain. Saying his name in front of her brings back the memories of what happened and whatshedid to him.
She waves her hand again. “Right, well, but still, we didn’t really know each other, did we? We certainly don’t know each other well enough to jump into bed together, if you ask me. We should get to know each other first. Besides, I’m exhausted.” She pauses, glancing at me, and then looks away, finding various spots in the room to glance between. Anywhere but at me.
“You’re …tired?” I smirk and wonder where she’ll go next.
“Yes, tired!” she says, nodding her head exuberantly as she meets my gaze again. “If we were to…you know…” She motions at the bed. “I won’t be any good. Heck, you might even regret marrying me.”
I find myself fighting a smile. “Oh, is that so?”
“You know what I mean.” She gestures vaguely. “You shouldn’t force yourself. I won’t mind. Just because ourmarriage is an arrangement, we don’t have to pretend it’s some form of medieval political alliance.”
“That's exactly what this is,” I remind her as I step closer to her. She steps back until her knees hit the bed and then immediately stands up again and makes her way to the wall behind, as if she’s petrified of that bed. This time, I have to force myself to hold back my laughter. She’s a comical mess right now, so contradictory to the confident, sassy woman I’ve observed her to be the whole day.
She doesn’t even seem to notice how evident it is that she’s nervous. There's something disarming about her honesty, though. But someone has to teach her not to lay her thoughts out for all to see.
“Exactly! So why rush the physical stuff?” She puts her hands behind her back, against the wall, as though she might fall from dizziness if she doesn’t. “We have time. We have our whole lives, unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?” I repeat, walking closer, arching an eyebrow.
She winces. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I just meant... this isn't how either of us planned our lives, is it? Being forced to marry a stranger?”
No, it isn't.
“And there's also the fact that I'm on my period,” she adds, looking me straight in the eye with a desperation that tells me this might just be a lie. By now, we’ve gone from medieval beliefs to arranged marriages to her period. “So even if you wanted to insist on your husbandly rights or whatever, tonight would be messy and uncomfortable for both of us.”
I almost laugh at her audacity. “My husbandly rights?”
“Isn't that what this is about? Your right to my body now that we're married?” There's a flash of something in her eyes, a hint of anger.
I take one final step toward her. “Is that what you think? That I'd force myself on you?”
She tries to take a small step back, but of course, is met by the wall. I, on the other hand, step closer to look into her eyes, to see if she really believes that. “No. I mean, no. Of course not.”
“No,” I agree, moving closer still. “I wouldn’t.”
I'm not sure when this turned from an awkward conversation into something else, but suddenly I'm aware that I've been advancing on her with each exchange, backing her toward the wall. Her eyes are wide now, and her breathing quickened. She looks like prey, cornered by a predator.
“What exactly are you afraid of, Lilibeth?” I ask, my voice dropping lower.
She clings to the wall, but she lifts her chin, defiant. “I'm not afraid of you.”
“No?” I place one hand on the wall beside her head, leaning in. “Then why is your heart racing?”
I can see it, the pulse at her throat fluttering rapidly. She swallows, and I find myself tracking the movement.
“Because you're in my space,” she says, but there's no real heat in it. “Has anyone ever told you that you're intimidating?”
“Many times,” I admit. “Usually right before I give them reason to be intimidated.”
“Is that what you're doing now? Intimidating your new wife on her wedding night?” There's that sass again, breaking through her nervousness. “Very romantic.”
“I thought you didn't want romance.” I place my other hand on the wall, caging her in. “You just gave me a whole speech about why we shouldn't consummate our marriage.”
“And you're proving my point by cornering me like this.” But even as she says it, she doesn't try to duck under my arms or push me away. Instead, her eyes drop briefly to my mouth before meeting my gaze again.
Something shifts in the air between us. The tension transforms from confrontational to something else entirely. Something I wasn't prepared for.
