Gideon pulled out, dragging his cock across my cheeks and dripping sticky wet drops all over my bedsheets and thighs.
Now I would be forced to sleep in the mess all night long.
"I am kind to you, Deliverance. Do not force me to be angry."
"Yes," I whispered, turning my face away.
If this was kindness, what was his anger like?
I cried myself to sleep in furious shame and humiliation. And all I could see before me was the beautiful blonde woman's face.
He had smiled ather,he had taken her arm gently.
If I was more like her, would he love me as his wife?
I had to find out who she was.
Because I did not believe what I had been told. Mr. Gideon Nightshade had not married me out of duty. I didn’t knowwhyhe’d married me.
But it could not possibly be because he was a gentleman.
CHAPTER 8
Deliverance
Was it worth it to find out the truth?
Would I rather have lived my whole life not knowing?
No.
I know who I am. I know I’m stronger than I ever thought I was. And I know now I wouldn't have stopped.
It seemed to consume me, the need to know my husband's secrets.
I explored further in Grayspires now, pushing back my growing unease with the manor itself. Grayspires seemed to loom oppressively over me, and each corner brought forth a new mystery.
What looked from a distance like a marble sculpture up close was really made of smooth, polished bone.
I even forced myself to look at the strange full-length portrait in the daytime, feel the jagged edges where a head had been ripped away.
I did not think that was the work of an animal.
And when I went back to the family Bible, to see if I could write down some of the names in it, I found the book pitted with deep gouges, making the names themselves unreadable.
Who or what had done that?
And, most critically, who was that woman?
What was she to my husband?
Jealousy gnawed at me like a mouse at the corner of a bed-post.
Maybe I was a mouse, but even a mouse has sharp little teeth.
Was she the reason my husband didn't love me? Husbands were supposed to love their wives. My Papa had truly loved my dear Mama, had spoken of her with a tear in his eye and a convulsive way of folding his hands together, as if praying to her memory.
Not Gideon, he treated me with a careless contempt I was desperate to change.
