Page 43 of A Raven Reformed

What was he talking about? Who could pl… Oh. Suddenly his potent anger toward her made sense. He thought Isaac was her lover. Initially, it was a bit of a relief because the idea was so ridiculously stupid, but then pain began to needle her heart. He thought she was capable of infidelity.

“Michael, it’s not what you think.” She pulled the blanket over herself. Suddenly, she didn’t want him to see her naked body.

He tugged the blanket from her grasp. “You don’t get to hide this body from me. I’ve told you, this body is mine. I will view it, and use it, however and whenever I see fit.” He held her legs wide while he opened his trousers and freed his manhood.

The usual kindness and concern that lived in his eyes had fled. They were instead filled with pain and rage. Her body was perfectly ready for him to take her, and she would no doubt enjoy it physically, but she didn’t want it like this. She didn’t want him to take her out of anger. But he wasn’t stopping. His features were stark, and his eyes glazed, almost as if he weren’t actually conscious.

“Michael, please stop.” Her quiet words seemed to register, and a look of stunned horror filled his eyes as they looked into hers. He stumbled backwards, shock still frozen on his face. He quickly righted his trousers and, without a word of explanation, fled from the room. She heard a key turn in the lock before his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

She climbed off the bed and found one of his robes to wrap around her. She had to stop him. He had locked the bedroom door, so she tried the one in his dressing room. It too was locked. Belle pounded on the door and yelled his name, but of course it was useless. If the master of the house chose to lock up his wife, no one would let her out without his permission. She slammed her palm against the solid surface.

“You stubborn oaf!” she yelled at the door.

But the truth was, this whole mess was her fault. If she hadn’t acted like a petulant child and sent Isaac that stupid letter complaining about how horrible her husband was, none of this would ever have happened. She pulled the offending paper from the pocket in her coat and tore it into pieces, scattering them across the floor before collapsing into a chair. She never wanted to see that letter again. She hated herself for ever thinking of Michael as a beast. The events that had just occurred proved that he was anything but. Her body was there for the taking, and as her husband, he had every right to it, but he hadn’t. And now, because he almost had, he was the one who thought he was a beast.

The irony wasn’t lost on her that she was now locked up, much more like the prisoner she’d thought herself to be when she’d written the stupid letter than she was then. But this time, she wasn’t going to just write a letter or have a temper tantrum. She wasn’t scared of him now. This time, she would fight back. Just as soon as he came back. For now, he’d once again abandoned her.

* * *

Michael made his way through the house in a daze. He’d nearly forced himself on his wife. Jesus. Only a monster would do that. He needed someone to punch him, repeatedly. But first, he needed some answers.

Michael walked outside and around to the side of the house where he could enter the basement. It was dank and dimly lit by lanterns, placed sporadically along the walls. He had no idea why his ancestors had built this into the house when it was erected more than a century ago but was happy to make use of it now. The man sat up as Michael approached the cell in which he was locked. O’Connell sat on a small chair across the room, whittling a piece of wood.

“Leave us,” Michael ordered.

“But Ash said not to.”

“I don’t give a damn what Ash said. This isn’t Raven House. I am the lord of this estate, and you will do as I say while you’re here.”

O’Connell held up his hands. “Yes, boss.” He held out a ring of keys that looked miniature in his oversized hands.

“Take those with you. That way you can assure Ash that I’m not here to kill the man.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure he’d care if you did.” He tucked the keys into his pocket and made his way to the door at the end.

Michael grabbed the worn chair and placed it in front of the locked cell.

The man spoke quietly. “You didn’t hurt Belle, did you?” Even in the dim light, Michael could see blood dried on his face, and yet he was still more concerned about Belle’s safety.

“Actually, I’ve just brought her the most incredible pleasure she’s ever experienced.” Michael rubbed his fingers over his mouth to make sure his meaning was clear. The man blanched, as if the idea disgusted him.

“Well, I guess she was right. She assured me that you would never hurt her.”

“Did she?” Apparently she'd been wrong.

The man nodded. “And since that seems to be true, I have one request. I know I will likely end up dead at the end of all of this, whether it’s at your hand or at the end of a noose, and I accept that. But please don’t let Belle know. None of this was her fault, but she will blame herself anyway.”

The more the man spoke, the more confusing it all became. He clearly cared for her, and the thought was like a dagger through Michael’s heart. “Do you love her?”

“Well, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. She’s like a sister to me.” A sad smile turned up one corner of his swollen lips. “She’s likemysister.”

Michael settled onto the chair. If they were so close, why didn’t he know anything about this man? But should that really come as such a surprise? He didn’t know much of anything about her life before they wed.

“You obviously know Belle from before she came here.”

Isaac nodded. “I began working and living at the neighboring farm about four years ago.”

“None of this makes any goddamn sense. How did you go from being a worker at the neighboring farm to crossing an ocean to, I don’t even know… Kill me, and run off with her? It was you who shot me, correct?”

---