How to Marry Your Wife Read Online Free Page A

of his arrival in England. Day after long day, month after month, she waited and prayed for his return. Finally, all that was left were memories. And that is where she’d lingered in a life worse than death for almost a year. She could nay let that happen again. That devil would need to be expelled from her once and for all.
    She sat upon a large pallet, upstairs in the chambers that Marcus and Ann had vacated for her marriage night. Thomas would be coming any moment now. There would be no gay party for her. No giggling maids brushing her hair and telling lies of giant genitalia. No mother with tears, giving final advice. No. She’d ruined all of that a long time ago.
    She wept. Wept for the maiden who’d loved Thomas with abandon. Wept for the family she’d lost. Sobbed for the many years when she thought him dead and the dried up woman she’d become. Merry. She’d not heard that name since it came off his lips the day he’d left for London. Why had he not come back for her? How could he claim he loved her after all the pain he’d put her through? Outside in the hallway, she heard footsteps and the door creaked open.
    He waited some time before speaking so low she could barely make out the words. “Merry?”
    “Go away.”
    The door creaked again and she ventured a glance. With hands at his sides, and in Templar colors, he was all warrior. One black lock fell into his eyes. He’d never looked finer. “You’re my wife and we should have relations.”
    “We already did. Six years past.” When I was beautiful and young.
    “Others may believe that, but you and I know different. My shaft has not sunk deep into your sheath, although I have dreamed of it for years upon years.”
    She sniffed and wiped her nose drippings onto her sleeve. If he knew the truth, how different would this speech be? “I can’t believe you. You left me, and now you’ve come back to ruin me.”
    “Ruin you? How say you that? Have we not just wed?” He walked into the large room, closed the door, and leaned against the stone wall by the small hearth.
    Her heart thumped despite all her efforts to make it stop. A noble Norman nose, thick lashes, and firm lips that curled into a smile would be her undoing. She clenched a fist until nails bit into palm. She’d not allow herself to love him again. Could not.
    “I was to be married to an Earl. Marcus’ older brother in a fortnight. A good man, so says all. I was going to start anew.”
    “But does he make you want? Does he make honey water bloom between your legs?” Moving closer, he held forward a hand. His arms, thick from wielding a sword, pulled against the chains of his mail. A new scar, still red and angry, started at a wrist and moved up under his sleeves. The scent of him brought back memories that almost made her jump into his arms, begging like a wanton whore.
    She’d not take his hand nor stare into those eyes, as black as a wet river stone, for she’d be lost forever. It was because of his beauty that she’d been tempted into sin. “I suppose we could accommodate well, no doubt, in time.”
    He went down on one knee with his head bowed before her. “You loved me once. Can you love me again?”
    “I could, but shan’t. She resisted the urge to put her fingers through his silky locks and sighed. When he didn’t argue, her chest tightened, and her throat constricted.
    He stared up at the ceiling and his frown deepened, as did the creases in his eyebrows. “Very well, then. Will you let me share what love we have left, wife?”
    One part of her wished he’d come to her, the other wished for a hole from hell to open up and suck her in. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited.
    “It’s your right, sir. Shall I spread my legs for you as your Magdalene?”
    “Damn you.” His fist hit the wood door with one final curse and he stormed down the stairwell.
    Exactly what did he expect? What did she do that was so wrong? She’d not refused him. Her heart ached to run after him,