Page 31 of Marrying Bluebeard

“Yes, Bertrand. It’s me. I’ve got you.”

“Adelaide. I feared…” He swallows, tongue darting out as he tastes the blood on his lips with a grimace. “I feared it wouldn’t be enough. I… I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t want her to hurt you.” His gaze hardens. “I won’t let her touch you, Adelaide. Not this time.”

I brush back the clump of disheveled hair that’s fallen over his eyes. “What are you talking about? No one’s going to hurt me.” I trace the bloody trails drying on his arm. “How did this happen? Does it have anything to do with your illness?”

“It was… an experiment.” His gaze shifts away, avoiding my eyes. “I needed to buy some time.”

Surely he doesn’t mean… “Bertrand.” His name slips out on a gasp as the implications behind his words sink in. “Did you do this to yourself on purpose? What were you thinking?”

His face darkens as he pulls his arm away, sitting up in the empty tub. “I did what I had to.”

I can’t look away from his arm, the self-inflicted mutilation. Why? What purpose could such destruction serve? The questions build, fighting for position at the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them all in face of Bertrand’s expression.

I’ll find no answers here.

“At least let me clean it up,” I murmur, lightly touching his shoulder.

He sighs, reluctantly nodding toward the vanity on the other side of the toilettes. “I keep some medical supplies in the bottom drawer. You should be able to find clean bandages, as well as a bottle of iodine for disinfecting.”

I cross the tiled floor and rummage through the vanity until I find the needed items, but as I slide the drawer closed, a glint of metal lying on the floor in the corner catches my eye. What’s this? Cradling the bandages and ointment in my arms, I pause to take a closer look. A silver flask lies abandoned, its cap unscrewed. Bertrand’s tonic. I pluck it off the floor and give it a shake—empty. Glancing at Bertrand, I assure myself he isn’t looking before holding the flask up to my nose and taking a tentative sniff.

Ugh. It smells like old coins and… I wrinkle my nose as I attempt to place the underlying fragrance. Is that…licorice? Stoppering the bottle with my fingertip, I turn it upside down and shake. After a moment, I feel a drop of moisture wet my skin. I remove my hand, examining the droplet of tonic beaded atop my finger. Such a beautiful shade of blue.

My lips part, the strangest urge to taste it prompting me to bring my hand closer.

“Don’t!”

I fumble, bandages and bottles spilling across the floor as I turn wide eyes to the bath. Bertrand has pulled himself up, and his face twists in a pained grimace as he hoists himself out of the tub and staggers toward me. I’m too stunned to even think of moving as he grabs my wrist, holding it in place. “Don’t taste it, don’t touch it.” Fear licks at his pupils as his grip tightens. “Don’t even look at it. Do you hear me?”

“Y-yes,” I manage to whisper through chattering teeth. “I hear you.”

“I pray that you do.” He loosens his hold, some of the tension easing from his frame as his gaze drops to my fingertip. Fear bleeds into desire as he stares at the pinprick of blue, and I suck in a breath as his lips wrap around the extended digit, gently sucking as his pupils dilate. He sinks to the floor when he’s done, leaning against the wall with all of the fortitude of a rag doll. “It’s a poison, Adelaide. You mustn’t let it taint you.”

I take slow, calming breaths as I grab a washcloth from the vanity and move to the sink. Focus on his arm. Nothing else matters. My hand shakes as it reaches for the knob, and my eyes sting as I soak the cloth beneath the stream of water. No more tears, Adelaide. Your husband needs you. I kneel beside him, positioning myself by his injured arm as I begin tenderly wiping away the dried blood. He winces as the cloth moves over his skin, but he holds still, allowing me to clean him. Thankfully, the glass casing on the bottle of iodine was thick enough to withstand being dropped onto the tiles without shattering, and I retrieve it from the floor once the blood is fully removed. But as I dab the dark liquid over the mass of punctures, I find my tongue loosening despite my resolve to stay focused.

“Why must you take it if it’s poisonous?” My gaze skips from each red circle, mapping them like stars in the sky as I try to keep my voice steady. As if I’m not on the brink of despair. “What sort of illness do you have?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer as I cut a length of gauze and wrap it carefully around his arm.

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

I snip the next length with a bit more gusto than necessary, frustration pursing my lips. “I’m a clever woman. Try me.”

“Adelaide, please. Just leave it.”

“Just leave it,” I repeat, the nonchalance I’d been striving for gone in a blink. “Just leave it?” I tear the remaining length with a loud rip, tying it off as I hiss, “You are my husband, Bertrand. My husband who I found lying in the bathtub in the middle of the night covered in blood, for goodness’ sake. Do not ask me to leave it. Just tell me what the hell is going on. Are you—” I choke on an angry sob and rub a hand over my eyes, dashing the offending tears away as I whisper, “Are you going to leave me so soon? After we’ve only just found each other?”

Bertrand pulls me into his arms as the floodgates open, my body shaking from the onslaught of relentless sobs. He holds me close, stroking my hair and whispering assurances, our earlier positions reversed. “No, Adelaide, no. I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s going to be fine.”

“How can it be fine?” I choke, blubbering into his chest. “You’re out of tonic. That’s why you hurt yourself. It keeps you balanced somehow, doesn’t it? This poison you consume.”

“Something like that. But you’re not to worry. I’ll get more. That’s why I left this morning. To make the arrangements. I should have what I need by tomorrow, and then everything will be perfect again. You’ll see.”

“You promise?” I sniff, pulling back so that I can look him straight in the eyes. Those dark, dark eyes brimming with untold secrets.

They blink innocently back at me. “I promise.”

“And no more of this?” I ask, ghosting his bandaged arm with my fingertips.

He catches my hand as it reaches his, lifting it to his mouth so he can kiss each of the delicate, white knuckles. “No more bleeding in the tub. Only bubbles and hot baths from now on, I swear.”