SOPHIA
My brain refused to turn off. I kept thinking about Jace. About waking up in the hospital. About Penelope Shire. For a lady’s companion, she didn’t seed all that thrilled to be around . She hadn’t even co up to the room to see if I needed her help. She hadn’t asked how I was doing. No, her focus had been on Jace.
I had worried earlier about whether or not I was having an affair, and maybe that’s why Jace seed upset with . Or maybe he was simply frustrated that I didn’t want to engage in physical intimacy.
He seed eager to claim , even if it ant doing so while I was still battered and bruised from the accident.
I didn’t have any knowledge about how he treated before, but I wasn’t convinced we were a harmonious couple.
Would a man who loved his wife care about his baser needs while she was suffering from the aftereffects of an airship crash?
I blew out a breath. I needed to stop thinking.
I tried to calm my mind, tried to think about flowers and butterflies and cakes. No thoughts about husbands or marriages or airships. Just flowers. Butterflies. Cakes.
Eventually, these pleasant thoughts soothed enough that I could finally sleep.
Sleep.
And dream...
I sit with my back braced against the wide trunk of the oak tree. It’s dark, the air cool and dry. The sky holds a full moon as round and shiny as a South Sea pearl. Stars glitter like scattered diamonds.
I sll the powdery sweet scents of the nearby flowers. I love roses, but there are none in this garden. I think about planting rose bushes near the house so that when I open my bedroom windows, I can breathe in rose-scented air.
I’m wearing a simple dress. A ghastly yellow because it’s the only one I have that doesn’t require hoop or corset. I don’t rember where I acquired this horrible cotton thing. It’s scratchy, too, no doubt because the material is cheap and the thread count low.
I ca outside without shoes and I hide my bare feet under the dress. My feet press against the rock-strewn earth, damp soil clinging to my toes.
I’m crying.
I don’t understand why my heart hurts so much.
My chest aches terribly as endless tears streak my face.
Unhappiness fills . It’s made of nettles and disappointnt and acid and exhaustion. It tastes tallic and feels like iron.
Behind sits Amaranth Manor, a building shaped too much like old casket. Dark with stains, cracked with age.
All my requests to brighten the manor have been denied. Jace wants nothing changed. Not a single thing.
He doesn’t even live here.
"Miss Pagemoore."
I look up. At the end of the path I see a man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, muscled. Short, dark hair, eyes like the night sky. Handso.
He holds out his hand. "Miss Pagemoore," he says again. "Shall we go play the ga?"
I slowly stand up and wipe the wetness from my face. "Who are you?"
"One heart," he says.
"One heart? That makes no sense." Still, I find myself walking down the path. Toward him. His hand remains outstretched. His gaze is filled with tenderness. Like I’m best thing he’s ever seen.
I start running.
Running.
But the path stretches and no matter how far I run, I never get close enough to take the man’s hand.
Now, I’m desperate. I know that I must reach him.
Why can’t I get any closer? He’s not moving, but neither am I.
Faster.
Faster.
But he remains out of my grasp.
Then I’m too late.
He shakes his head.
And fades away.
***|***|***
JACE
Restless, I went into my study and poured a whiskey. I lit a cigarette. I sat in the dark, drinking and smoking.
And thinking about my wife.
That crazy bastard Stonehart had tried to kidnap Sophia.
Who the hell did he think he was?
The body of Duke Stonehart had yet to be recovered. Nearly half the crew died in the airship crash. Even though they were still sorting out the bodies, the Duke’s wasn’t among the ones found so far.
Because he was at the bottom of a ravine.
Even knowing he couldn’t have survived that fall, I still had a bad feeling. I hope they found whatever was left of the man soon if only to put my own mind at ease. Without knowing for sure, there was a sliver of possibility he survived.
If he had, he would definitely co for .
And for Sophia.
It was a good thing she lost her mory.
As long as she had amnesia, I could make her fall in love with again. No more talk of divorce. I would keep her in locked in Amaranth Manor so that she never found another man to run off with.
I took a drag of the cigarette and held the smoke in my lungs before letting it go in a long stream.
Sophia looked so utterly delicious soaking in the tub. Her hair had been put into a large ponytail, probably to keep it from getting damp. The water, purple from the product she’d used to scent the bath, dripped down her neck and shoulders like glittering gems. Her skin was smooth. Pale. It looked silky soft.
It was at that mont that I want to sink into the tub with her. Feel her skin next to mine. Pull her onto my lap. Taste those pillowy lips.
She was mine.
My wife.
And no one else would have her.
I crushed the cigarette in the ash try. I was too impatient. She hadn’t recovered, but I felt compelled to complete our marital duties. Walking away had been nearly impossible. Even now, I thought about returning to the bedroom and slipping into bed.
Slipping into her.
Only when I’d taken her virginity and planted my seed within her would I feel like she couldn’t escape .
That’s what I needed to do. Trap my beautiful little wife in Amaranth Manor with a child or two. Or three.
Then she’d be too busy to think about anything other than her duties as my spouse and mother to my children.
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