The Concubine (Unexpected Circumstances 5)

He made his way through the door to our rooms, and I followed after him, still calling his name. As I shut the door to block anyone who may have tried to follow, he stopped with his head still tipped down to the floor and his back to me.

I walked up and around him, tilting my head to the side to peer into his face.

“Will you not even acknowledge your niece?” I looked up at his eyes and was met with the same cold stare that had become common with him. I reached for his hand, but he pulled away before I could touch him.

“I saw her,” Branford said curtly. “She seems in good health. Parnell is very proud and speaks of Ida bearing him a son next, God willing.”

His stoicism was downright annoying.

“Branford…you cannot continue to shut me out,” I told him. This time when I reached for his hand, I grabbed it before he could pull it away. I slipped my fingers in between his and heard his long intake of breath. “I know it has been…difficult…but we cannot continue this way.”

Branford looked toward the wall and blinked a few times before speaking.

“Camden is dying,” he said. “He may last a few more days, possibly a fortnight, but his time is at an end. That is why I asked Ida and Parnell to come here. Camden has asked me to take the throne before he dies.”

I felt a cold shiver run through my body. Though we knew this day would come sooner rather than later, I thought there would be more time.

My husband’s gaze turned to me, the cold, unfeeling stare I had seen in his eyes these past months vanished, and I saw my Branford behind his lashes.

“I am not ready to be king,” he said quietly. “I do not even think I want it.”

“Branford, you must…”

“I know I must!” He growled as he shook free of my hand. “That is not the point!”

He breathed deeply as his hand ran through his long, tousled hair. When he turned back to me, I saw how much he had really aged in the past year. He no longer looked like the youthful, strong knight that had first taken me by my waist and pulled me from the stands at Hadebrand’s arena. Now he looked older, broken, and lost.

“I thought…for a time…maybe God had forgiven me,” he said. His voice had again grown quiet. “Everything with you was so…so perfect. And then, every choice I made slowly destroyed that perfection and left me with what I have now—a broken kingdom, frightened subjects, a tyrant ready to pounce on all I hold dear, a wife who…who…”

He faltered, and I reached for him. He stepped back again, denying himself my touch.

“A wife who endures everything I throw at her, believing me to be worth it in the end, no matter what the cost.”

He turned away from me, and it tore at my heart to have him refuse my touch completely.

“You should not have agreed,” he said. “You should have told me to choose another. Even as a servant, your life would have been better without me.”

“Branford! Do not say such things!”

“Why not if it is the truth?” he yelled as he spun around to look at me. “There is nothing I have to offer you except grief!”

“That is not the truth!” I yelled back at him, and the shock in his face registered. I had never before raised my voice to him for any reason. In fact, anyone within Silverhelm’s control who would have spoken to him with such venom would likely not have lived to see another day, save the kin

g and queen. But I simply could not abide any more of this. “As my prince, future king, and husband, you get to dictate much, but you do not get to decide how I feel! You do not get to determine what I feel is right or best for me! What I feel is for me to decide, and me alone, and I love you!”

He stood with his hands at his sides, his mouth open, and his eyes wide with astonishment. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands shook as my blood boiled under my skin. My breath left my nose in forceful huffs as I stared into my husband’s vivid green eyes for a long, long time.

Slowly, my ire receded as Branford continued to stare at me, dumbfounded. For a moment, I was frightened at what I had just done, and what his reaction may be. However, I knew my husband’s heart even if he did not always know it himself. I closed my eyes, took a final deep breath, and stepped toward him with my hands reaching outward.

“You are worth it,” I whispered. “You gave me something I never thought I would have. You gave me your love and showed me how to love you. How could that not be worth whatever Edgar can throw at us?”

“I am not worth it,” he said again. “I have only given you pain.”

“When you touch me, I only feel the pleasure your hands can bring to me.”

His eyes flickered to mine, wide and questioning. I watched his tongue dart out and moisten his lips as his eyes quickly took in my body.

He did still want me.