Reginald raised his hand again as though he would strike her again. Vivien could not help herself – she flinched, to which he immediately dropped his hand.
If she had thought the man capable of remorse, Vivien might have sworn she saw a fleeting sight of it in his eyes before it flickered out and died in a matter of seconds.
Reginald drew a deep breath before saying, “It just made no sense. How could a heathen like thatlairdbe so well-prepared?” Disdain dripped from every word as he bored holes through her with his eyes. “How could he possibly have known about an attack that no one but I and my men knew about?”
Vivien stood still, trembling, her hand still covering her face. The pain was long forgotten; now, she felt only rage and despair. If Reginald knew that she had told Kieran about the attack, there was no knowing what else he knew.
She forced herself to calm down, her expression turning stoic as she returned the stare Reginald was giving her, injecting as much of the hatred she felt for him into it. Vivien hoped he could see the way she felt about him reflected in her eyes; he was an evil man, but he was not blind.
“So, I thought to myself, surely it cannot be a mere servant. None of my men would stab me in the back like that – they answer to me. They are loyal tome. I went through the list of all the potential people it could be, and the only person that stood out, every time, was you, my lovely wife.” It was not a compliment; Vivien knew that. It was how Reginald always referred to her in company, but she knew as well as he did that he did not feel that way at all.
“I had you followed,” he admitted, his anger bubbling to the surface in the way his face turned beet-red, and spittle flew from his mouth as he spat the words at her.
“And do you know what I found?”
Vivien shook her head, her resolve beginning to strengthen, despite the terror she felt.
“You really should know. After all, it is you who was followed.”
Vivien straightened her spine, refusing to bow under the rage that ran rampant across Reginald’s face. He narrowed his eyes, looking slightly taken aback that she was not cowering in front of him. Knowing Reginald, Vivien thought, he expected her to be on her knees, kissing his feet and begging for his forgiveness.
She would not give him that gratification.
Vivien would give him the opposite, instead.
“My men followed you all the way to the enemy’s bed, wife,” Reginald said, his eyes mere slits as he took a step towards her. For once, Vivien would not allow him to intimidate her.
“And what of it?” she said, digging her nails deeper into her palms.
Reginald stuttered, looking taken aback as his eyes widened in shock.
“What of it, Reginald?” Vivien said, her hands now at her waist as she took a step closer to him. “Do you think you can intimidate me, still?” she said, raising her voice slightly.
He did not reply; he merely stared at her. Vivien felt a smile tugging at her lips; it was time that the man had a taste of his own attitude.
“You think you are the only one who knows something? You are not,” she emphasized the words, “I am no whore, and I am no traitor. But you? You are a liar, a despicable human being who lacks any form of compassion or conscience. How do you sleep at night, Reginald?”
The veins in Reginald’s neck were bulging as his blood flow quickened, the vein at his temple pulsing in time to his heartbeat.
Vivien knew she had hit a nerve somewhere, as he swallowed heavily.
“It is you who is broken, useless, pathetic,” she said calmly, pointing her finger at his chest, her back as straight as an arrow, “You think that because you have a title that you did not earn, that you can treat everyone as nothing more than trash beside the road. You do not own me. You do not control me. I am not broken.”
Vivien paused, taking a deep, calming breath. She was finally speaking her mind, and it felt good. It was a heady feeling; she felt almost faint with the thrill of finally telling Reginald what she thought of him.
“You are broken,” she said softly, her eyes not wavering from Reginald’s, “You are so broken you cannot consummate a union that neither of us wants. You are so useless that you cannot perform your husbandly duties. You are so pathetic that you blame me for your own inadequacies. I pity you, you poor, old, little man.”
“Vivien,” Reginald seemed to have finally recovered himself enough to use his voice, even though it trembled as he looked at her, his face bleached of all color.
“Do not even try, Reginald.” Vivien shook her head. “I am in love with Kieran; I will no longer deny that. If you want someone to blame for that, blame yourself. I am no whore, and I am no traitor. You are the traitor. You betray everything and everyone around you for your own selfish reasons. You are a cruel, vindictive old man. You will die alone, with no one to care for your loss.”
Vivien turned on her heel, her back towards Reginald. The thrill of her release of all those months of pent-up rage was coursing through her body; she felt all but invincible at that moment.
“You will never touch me again,” she said, looking over her shoulder at the man she had once feared so much. Now all she felt was pity and disdain for him – a small, frail man with nothing but cruelty in his heart. He truly was alone in this world, she thought as she walked towards the door.
Reginald did the one thing Vivien had not thought of the entire way through their altercation.
“Guards!” he called out loudly, as he grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip from behind her. Vivien gasped as his nails dug into her flesh, his eyes burning with the fires of rage and hatred.
