We sent the acolytes away when they fetched us for dinner. There was too much work to do and neither of us had much of an appetite anyway. Seeing a teenager’s head roll across the Deck would do that to you. So we worked until it was done and then called it a night long after the sun had set. I felt a twinge of guilt as I made my way back to my room for the night and remembered I wouldn’t be alone in it. I hardly felt the shame, however, for the nerves.
I took a steadying breath at my door before reaching for the knob. After a moment’s hesitation, I knocked. It swung open in an instant.
“I could hear you breathing out there,” Isla said, frowning at me from inside. “Did you just knock on your own door?”
“I didn’t know if you were…” I trailed off, my eyes dipping from her face to the long cream nightgown she wore which pooled on the floor around her feet.
“Naked?”
I gulped.
“Would it matter?” she asked, brows furrowed as if that were a genuine question. “You’re my husband now.”
Right. I was. And a husband saw his wife naked all the time, wanted to even, and didn’t knock on his own damn door.
“Can I come in?” I asked and felt stupid the second before she cocked a brow.
“Now you’re requesting entry to your own room,” she deadpanned.
“It’s your room too. I’m trying to be…respectful.”
“Respectful,” she repeated, as if confused by the word choice.
Silence fell between us for a long moment. When she finally raised a brow, I realized I was supposed to have entered by now. Clearing my throat, I slid past her into the room. I heard the click of the door as Isla closed it behind me. Shoving my hands into my pockets to fight the nervous energy surging through me, I headed for the closet on the opposite side of the room and strode inside, hoping my movements appeared far more casual than they felt.
“Milo,” Isla said my name from beyond the door a moment later.
“Hmm?” I called, trying to keep my voice steady, calm.
“Do you want me to remove my nightgown?”
I stilled, fingers frozen over the cufflinks they’d begun to take off. Slowly, I made my way back to the threshold of the closet and looked out at her where she stood in the center of the room, chin up and eyes boring into me.
“I know my duty as a wife,” she spat before I could say a word. “I know what’s expected of me, but if you have any preferences–”
“Geist, Isla,” I swore, nearly collapsing against the doorframe.
Her brow furrowed as she watched my reaction.
“What?” she asked.
“I just came into the room,” I replied, shaking my head and exhaling.
“Should I have already been–”
“No. I–”
I cut myself off, crossed the room, and reached out to take her hands. Her eyes darted to the contact and then back up to mine as if assessing for some threat my heart broke to think she might be imagining. I pulled her slowly toward the edge of the bed where I sat before gesturing for her to join me. She only hesitated for a second before sitting beside me.
“How was your day?” I asked in the most gentle tone I could muster.
She blinked at me, entirely caught off guard.
“My…day…” she started, watching me with a wariness she’d never worn for me before.
I nodded and gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
“Well, I got married,” she said and I grinned at the humor. “And then a boy was beheaded and my husband came back covered in his blood before vanishing into his study all day.”
