Page 51 of A Raven Reformed

She pressed a finger over his lips to stop him talking. “It’s my turn to speak and your turn to listen, Michael. So much of this could have been prevented if you had just listened to me.” She touched her fingertips to the bruise on his cheek and he winced slightly, surprised by the pain. “Do I need to make you undress and turn in a circle so I can inspect the rest of your body for bruises?”

Michael chuckled. “I was only good for a few punches, so there won’t be very many.” She didn’t laugh with him, or even smile.

“It isn’t funny, Michael.”

“Does it bother you? The boxing, I mean?”

“No.” She huffed frustratedly, threw back the blankets, and got out of the bed. She pulled the sleeves of her nightgown back down to her wrists and turned to face him, hands on her hips. God, she was beautiful, even when she was angry. Much of her dark hair had escaped its plait and hung around her face, framing it in tantalizing chaos.

“Stop looking at me like that, Michael. I’m trying to have a serious conversation and you’re looking at me as if I were a lollipop you’re longing desperately to lick.” Her cheeks instantly flushed as she realized the unintentional innuendo in her remark and the corners of her mouth turned up just a bit.

“You don’t want to be licked?” he teased.

Her shoulders dropped and she shook her head, but a small smile played about her lips. “Stop.”

He rolled off the other side of the bed and raised his hands in a truce. “No more. I promise I’ll behave myself and listen.”

She covered herself with his robe. It wrapped nearly twice around her and dragged the floor, but there was something adorable about the picture. Not to mention, her own robe was draped over the back of the chair, but she’d chosen his anyway, just as she’d chosen to sleep in his bed while he was away. Perhaps, in some ways, she was choosing him, without him even realizing it.

Without a word, Michael walked over and sat in a chair. He was going to try his best to just stay quiet and listen. Apparently, that was something he didn’t do very well. From now on, he would try to do better.

Belle seated herself in the other chair, her eyes flicked to the pile of torn paper. She didn’t say anything about it, but it seemed to take the wind out of her sails, so he prompted her to continue from where he’d interrupted her. “If it’s not the boxing you dislike, then what is it, Belle?”

“You abandoned me, Michael. Again.” His heart ached at the sadness that filled her eyes. He wanted to apologize, to beg her forgiveness and swear to never do it again, but for probably the first time in his life, he stayed silent and simply nodded so she would continue.

“Every time something upsets you, you just leave. Leave me to deal with whatever it is on my own. It isn’t fair, Michael.”

He sat forward in the chair, but as he opened his mouth to apologize, she held up a hand. “It’s my turn to speak, remember?”

Michael closed his mouth and nodded once more.

“I feel like I will always have to walk on eggshells to make sure I don’t cause you to get upset and leave me.”

“I wasn’t upset with you, Belle.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I was upset with myself.”

“No.” Belle got to her feet and stood over him, pointing resolutely. “You were angry at me. So angry, in fact, that you very nearly did something you would never have forgiven yourself for.”

“But I?—”

“Michael!” she shouted over the top of him. “My turn to speak.”

Why was it so hard for him to stay quiet? He sat back in the seat and nodded his compliance.

“Let me retell the events how I understand them now that I’ve had plenty of time to think about everything. Then you can respond. Fair?”

He nodded again.

“Somehow you found the note from Isaac and immediately assumed that it was a note from my lover. It’s understandable that you came to that conclusion, but if you had given me a chance, I could have explained. But instead, once you were satisfied I wasn’t physically harmed, you immediately ignored my words, took my begging as confirmation that he was actually my lover, and in your jealous rage, beat him half to death.” Michael lowered his gaze to his lap, shame filling his belly. She wasn’t wrong, about any of it.

“Then,” Belle continued. “You brought me up here and sat there, in that very chair, and demanded I remove my clothes. I assumed you were going to spank me, but instead, you brought me the most incredible pleasure I’ve ever experienced. But you’d only done it to prove to me that you were a superior lover.” His shame grew with every word she spoke. “When I tried to argue the point, once again you wouldn’t listen, and instead you decided to simply stake your claim over my body.”

Michael’s hands balled themselves into fists on the arms of the chair. “I’m so sorry, Belle,” he whispered quietly.

“Which, by the way,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “You had every right to as my husband.”

“No.” He slammed his fists against the chair, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Don’t excuse my behavior. Being your husband does not justify what I did. I was a brute and I hurt you.”

“But that’s just it, Michael. You didn’t hurt me. Not physically, anyway.”

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