She puzzled over those questions most of the night until the answer came. Then she understood.
Roman didn’t completely trust her not to drink. Not yet.
Leonie knew she didn’t trust herself either.
And, until Roman made up his mind about her, he would not do anything that could create a child. She understood his motives as clearly as if he had spoken the words. Her husband valued responsibility.
This also meant he might still set her aside.
Leonie spent a good five minutes trying to work up her anger as a defense against his distrust—except in her heart, she knew he was being wise.
Of course, their bodies didn’t stay away from each other. They were drawn together like magnets. She woke the next morning with her head on his shoulder and his hand between her legs.
“What are you doing? I thought you said we shouldn’t—?” she started, and then sighed as he found his mark.
His lips were by her ear as he whispered, “I didn’t say we couldn’t play.” He then proceeded to show her what he meant by doing amazing things with his hands and mouth.
Leonie learned she could “play” as well. She found it a heady experience to have her brawny husband at her mercy. Over the days that passed, she was free to explore every inch of his body. She delighted in pleasing him. It gave her almost more gratification than the pleasure he gave to her.
Was this love? Did giving more than receiving qualify?
Soon, they both knew Leonie was not with child. She’d also been very good and had not touched a drop. It had been her private struggle.
However, no matter how “good” she was, Roman kept a boundary between them.
She didn’t understand completely.What did he want from her? What was the key that would convince him that he could trust her?
Working in the garden gave her time to mull over these questions and other, unsettled feelings.
She liked sleeping with her husband. She adored what he could do to her body.
And yet, she sensed a lack of permanence. A queasy feeling that she did not deserve Roman or his family, that she shouldnotbe loved.
It was all confusing.
Or so she thought... until one overcast day, as she gently planted a rose cutting, a thought she kept carefully tucked away in her mind reared its ugly head.
She’d killed a man.
It wasn’t that Leonie hadn’t recalled the terrible amount of blood that had been everywhere or holding Arthur while begging him not to die. She knew that if she hadn’t acted, he would have continued to hurt her.
Still, everything had happened so quickly, and then she’d shut it away in her mind. Even justified, she had not let herself think on what it truly meant to take someone else’s life, especially someone she’d known and had trusted.
She looked at the fragile cutting that she dearly hoped would grow into a blooming plant. She found it hard to breathe. The cutting seemed to have activated her conscience. The weight of it was almost unbearable.
Vishnu sensed her turmoil. He rubbed against her and then climbed into her lap. Soldier and Chester had been napping close. They, too, understood something was not right. They padded over to her. Chester took position as if guarding her. Soldier nudged her.
Leonie knew she could go to Roman. He would hold her and tell her all the right words to placate her conscience. Then again, she’d harmed him as well.
No, she needed to speak to someone she trusted who could give her an honest answer.
She rose from the ground and went inside. After washing her hands, she changed her clothes, put on a shepherdess’s bonnet with its wide brims and yellow ribbons, and walked to the village.
Her brother-in-law was pulling weeds around the graves circling his stone church. He smiled a greeting but before he could speak, Leonie said, “Do you have a moment, Lawrence?”
“Of course. Would you like a cup of water or tea?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I have a burden on my soul and I must ask you what I should do. I may need to go to the magistrate.”
