By the end of dinner, exhaustion had caught up to him, and Raphael suggested he go to bed before he fell asleep at the table. Milan could admit that was a good idea.
He pressed his hand against Raphael’s before leaving, once again causing Raphael to flinch, but Milan had become resigned to the effect he had on his husband.
He managed to keep his eyes open long enough to get ready for bed and read a few more pages before he fell asleep with the candles still lit around him.
**********
It wasn’t an addiction, the escape that the library offered Milan, but he could admit that he spent perhaps a little too much time there.
After the plate of uneaten sandwiches was returned that first day, Cook made sure that whoever took Milan his lunch would stay until he started eating. It was very difficult to refuse food when Melissa was staring at you with her big, doe eyes.
It was not until Katerina’s invitation arrived that Milan realised he had not stepped outside for quite a few days. Instead of waiting for dinner, he sought out Raphael in his study, finding him sitting stiffly at his desk.
“Good afternoon, Husband. I have just received the invitation I mentioned last week from Katerina. I was thinking of accepting her offer for tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?” At least he would pretend to ask.
“No, thank you,” Raphael said. Milan didn’t miss the tenseness in the response, but he shrugged it off.
His husband could tell him if something was wrong. Milan did ninety percent of the talking, anyway. Now, at least, he had an invitation for some real conversation at last.
**********
Katerina’s manor, although less impressive in size compared to Raphael’s, was a wonder inside. It also seemed to function with steam-propelled mechanics and electricity, but it was the decor that stood out. Amidst the traditional filigree and marble, there were wild splashes of colour and large paintings hanging on the walls. One in particular depicting a lounging man and woman, the former casually displaying his collarbones whilst the lady scratched at her foot, revealing her ankle, spoke volumes of Katerina’s taste.
“One of my favourites,” the hostess herself said from behind Milan. He turned to greet her with a smile.
“I can see why.” He smirked.
They settled in a sitting room adorned with furnishings covered in patterned fabric—each unique but somehow creating harmony.
“You have a keen eye,” Milan complimented, looking around the room as a servant put some tea and finger sandwiches on a low table in front of the couch they were sat upon.
“Yes,” Katarina agreed, laughing mischievously at her lack of humility.
Indeed, even her clothes were exquisite: a suit of deep blue that shimmered slightly in the light with a patterned, green shirt underneath and a cream cravat. Where she found these fabrics was a mystery—Milan had never seen anything like it.
“Enough about me, though. You must know I’ve invited you here to learn all about your new life at Ledford Manor.”
“Such a gossip.”
“Oh, unrepentantly.” They shared a conspiratorial smile.
Milan did not know if there was something about Katarina that made him trust her—the way she was frank and open, a gossip but not a traitor—or if it was simply Milan’s need of a friend, but he was sorely tempted to tell her everything.
Some decorum was necessary, however.
“There have been some challenges,” Milan admitted, “but I have come to appreciate northern charm.”
Katarina snorted inelegantly.
“I’ve been to the South, you know.”
Milan raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“What’s that look for? I am incredibly worldly, you know. Yes, I remember it being very warm, for one—I have no idea how you survive. But also, everybody would speak to each other as if they had known each other forever. I made fifty of the best of friends there, not one of which I can remember the name of.”
Milan laughed. “You exaggerate—but I can see how it may seem so coming from the North. It wouldn’t be proper to be so casual with a stranger here, I’m learning.”
“The way you chatted with the shop owner whilst looking at ribbons—you stunned the poor woman to death.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not!”
“I had no idea. Did she think me rude?”
“Oh, please. You’re completely charming. I bet Lord Ledford is thanking his lucky stars to have landed such a darling of a husband.”
Milan couldn’t help but stiffen, picking up his cup and taking a sip of tea to try and disguise his reaction. Not that he had to look at Katerina to know it hadn’t worked.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
“No, it’s not—this is not for gossip.”
“You insult me,” Katerina said, only half joking.
Milan put his hands up. “I apologise, it’s just a sensitive matter.”
“I wouldn’t tell a soul. My word is my honour.”
Milan smiled at her. Somehow, he didn’t doubt it. “It…hasn’t been easy. I’m afraid Lord Raphael does not see a place for me here.”
“Is he cruel to you?” Katerina demanded as if she were about to ride to Ledford Manor and give Raphael a piece of her mind.
“No. I thought, maybe…” His mind had gone over the night of his wedding day a million times. When he had been kicked out of Raphael’s bed, he had been so incredibly humiliated—but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if the issue had been Milan assuming he had the right to stay in Raphael’s bed. Raphael had been incredibly kind throughout their joining, but to simply decide he had a place in Raphael’s bed had perhaps been presumptuous. Or had it? Milan was in knots over it.
“He is not cruel. Or, at least…I don’t know. Is it cruel not to try and be friends with someone who has uprooted everything to come here?”
“Yes,” Katerina said decisively.
“But I keep pushing and pushing…”
“And why shouldn’t you? We all knew it was irresponsible for him to accept the arrangement, despite the pressures I’m sure he was under.”
Milan frowned. “What do you mean?”
Katerina bit her lip, obviously regretting her comment. “I don’t know much, really.”
“What is it?” Milan insisted.
“Well, we were all just surprised he accepted another bonding after divorcing from the first.”
“Because they were also at odds?”
“No. Quite the opposite.”
“But they divorced. To break a bond…”
“Yes, well…”
“Tell me. Please.” He had to know. He had assumed for a while that Raphael was still in love with his last husband, but he did not know. He had to find out why Raphael acted the way he did. It would make everything easier.
“As I said, I don’t know much. It was a political arrangement, like yours, but they seemed very much in love. Jack Vipond—the husband—was very much the opposite of Raphael. Gregarious, social—he loved dancing and would always wear the most lavish clothes, throw the most lavish balls. He…I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Be frank, Katerina. I’m stronger than I look.”
Katerina gave him a speculative look before nodding. “Well, Jack just seemed to bring out the best in Lord Raphael. They were inseparable, to the point that Lord Raphael learnt to delegate work, for once.”
Milan thought of his husband—how he was all work and no play. To think that someone had been able to crack that, to show Raphael how to live…it was no wonder he used his duty as a shield, now. Even the work dinner on Milan’s first night was starting to make sense.
“But…” Milan frowned. “If they were so in love, what happened?”
“Well, I don’t know the details. From what I’ve learnt, Lord Raphael had to go away for quite some time due to business and couldn’t take Jack along. They had a big row about it—Jack didn’t want Lord Raphael to go, for some reason.
Saw it as a betrayal…I do not know.”
“That was enough to end the marriage?”
“Not quite. Jack was…Lord Raphael loved him dearly, but Jack seemed to need that love—or simply love, in general, to function. When Raphael returned, I believe Jack had taken a lover.”
“No!” Milan gasped. “Why?”
“Who knows? Perhaps Lord Raphael was more in love than Jack. Maybe Jack felt so hurt that Lord Raphael would go despite Jack’s pleading that he thought Lord Raphael didn’t love him. Whatever the reason, it ended with Jack leaving and Lord Raphael going back to his solitary ways.”
Milan pressed a hand over his own heart. He could not even imagine having his heart broken so ruthlessly. Not only that, but to be forced into a second marriage after such an experience. Of course Raphael would be distrustful. Of course he wouldn’t want to sleep in the same bed as him. If only they could talk openly about the subject…
“Don’t despair, Lord Milan. The heart is more resilient than it seems.”
Milan nodded gratefully before waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t call me ‘Lord’. Please.”
“If you won’t call me ‘Miss’.”
“Deal. Now, I can’t help but notice that you are not married,” Milan said and was grateful when Katerina did not point out the unsubtle change of topic.
“Yes,” Katerina said, tilting her face up and brushing her hair back.
“And in such a festive season, too. Great for meeting potential partners.”
“Perhaps.”
“Is it that you have your eye on someone?”
To Milan’s great surprise, Katerina blushed slightly, hiding behind her teacup.
“Oh, my! Do tell!”
“All you need to know is that she is the most beautiful and interesting Omega of the whole land,” she said snootily.
Milan cackled. “Should I be offended?”
“You are a close second. But, enough about that—you have so much gossip to catch up on, I barely know where to start.”
Milan let the subject drop. He knew how delicate matters of the heart could be.
**********
Milan didn’t know if he was more preoccupied than usual or if Raphael was colder at dinner that day. Either way, it surprised him immensely when Raphael was the one to begin the conversation.
“Did you enjoy your visit?” he asked, and Milan couldn’t help but notice the thread of disdain in his tone.
“Very much, thank you. Are you not fond of Katerina?” Milan didn’t miss Raphael’s deepening frown at the lack of a title.
“I like Miss Rosewood well enough, but she is a big gossip.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that, but sometimes it’s good to be abreast of the local news.”
Raphael snorted. “Local news? You mean rumours.”
Milan shrugged, not in complete disagreement and therefore, did not bother to argue back. Still, it was the perfect opening to have a conversation that was more than due.
“Lord Raphael…I have to admit—I didn’t pry, but I did learn some things about…”
Raphael gave him a sharp look, putting his utensils down on the table. Milan did the same.
“Well, your past.”
“What about my past?” Raphael said so quietly that the hairs on the back of Milan’s neck stood up. His body was telling him to abort the conversation, but his stubbornness pressed on.
“Well, I just thought it pertinent, seeing as I am your new husband—”
The noise of disgust Raphael made in response cut to the quick. Milan hadn’t known Raphael had such power over him still. Raphael snarled, “You think you can go off and dig into my past, my personal affairs, and come here with that innocent look on your face and claw yourself further into me?”
Milan gaped. “No, of course not. I only wanted—”
“I know what you want. What you all want.” Raphael stood up, voice low and more dangerous than a shout. Instinctively, and much to Milan’s embarrassment, the sight of not only an Alpha but the Alpha tied to him, looking at him with such vitriol and hate in his eyes, made him shrink in his seat, heart racing.
“Let me make something clear,” Raphael said. “You can invade my household, poison the minds of my staff, insert your unwelcome nose in my business—but you will never, never, infect my heart, or my soul. This…bond,” he said with revulsion, making a vague gesture, “is nothing. I am your husband on paper, but not in spirit. I will not be yours. I will make sure of it until my dying breath. Do you understand?”
Milan could only stare. He was struck dumb and cold by all his fear being speared through his chest at once.
At Milan’s silence, Raphael banged his fist against the table—the first act of violence Milan had seen from him.
To Milan’s horror, he cried out and jumped, covering his face instinctively. “Yes,” he said quickly, for, at last, he really did understand.
Despite no exertion of the body, Milan was panting, fear coursing through him. His mind was in pieces. His body was being guided by old instincts, which instructed him to sit still and yet tremble like some pathetic creature, hands raised as if expecting a blow.
There was a long moment of silence before Milan heard Raphael stride out.
Still, Milan could not seem to lower his arms until, without his permission, a sudden sob left his chest. A great, heaving thing, it seemed to take over his body for a moment, like a retch. He clapped a hand over his mouth, refusing to make such a noise again, even as fear still pulsed, shame nipping at his heels.
Is this what he was? A cowering Omega, crying at a few harsh words? Unbidden, the faces of his loving family came to mind. Their kindness, their comfort.
He could not believe how much he missed them. How completely alone he truly was.
Milan’s eyes burnt with the force not to shed tears. His mouth, a moment ago parched, became pasty. He took a deep breath before gulping down his glass of water, pressing the corners of his eyes when he finished, as if that would keep them under control.
Milan sat for a long while, trying to steady his breathing. He was afraid that moving would shake something loose and cause him to collapse.
“My Lord?”
Milan almost jumped out of his skin, turning sharply to see Melissa there—an unusual sight in the dining room.
“Oh, Melissa. I’m sorry—you’re probably all waiting to clean up.” His chair scraped across the floor as he stood up abruptly. “Sorry, sorry—I’m being clumsy.” He stepped to the side, almost tripping on his chair before attempting to put it back in place. He fought with the thing until two hands rested on his gently. He looked at Melissa—at the soft pity in her eyes. He drew his hands away.
The whole manor had probably heard Lord Raphael banging the table and shouting his last demand. Shame was hot as it coursed through him.
“I think I’ll retire now,” Milan said softly.
Melissa usually barely helped him get ready for bed, but she walked with him to his room. Milan must have been compliant that night, for he was suddenly being dried from his bath and dressed. He had even let Melissa turn down the bed, and he slipped inside.
Milan broke out of the numb silence that had taken over him as he noticed Melissa was still in his room, standing awkwardly by the door.
“Is everything all right?” he questioned.
“Yes. I just…Lord Ledford is a good man, Lord Milan.”
Milan blinked at her, surprised at how much that comment hurt, that she would defend him after that night. “Of course.”
“No, My Lord—” Melissa rushed further into the room. “I did not mean it like that.”
“It’s quite all right, Melissa,” Milan said tiredly. “Of course I would have no qualms with you being loyal to the lord of the house.”
“I’m loyal to you, My Lord,” she assured earnestly. “I only meant to say…to give you some hope.”
Milan smiled at her, although he felt how the expression strained. If there was anyt
hing this night had put a definite end to, it was hope.
“Thank you, Melissa.”
She hesitated for a moment longer before bowing and leaving the room.
He would normally read in bed before sleeping, but he turned off the sconces and blew out the candles instead. He lay in his solitude amidst the strange silence, the call of strange night birds, the strange cold.
Light was starting to filter through the curtains when he finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Milan woke up in a fog, but he did not delay getting out of bed and getting ready for the day.
He had thought a lot throughout the night. About Lord Raphael’s reaction. About his own. He understood Lord Raphael better, now. They would not be lovers, they would not be friends—but they could be civil. They would touch enough to keep the bond functional and little more. This dynamic was not what he had hoped for, but it did not mean the end of the world for Milan.
So what if he would not know love in marriage? There were many types of love, and Milan refused to not have a rich life filled with interests, friends, duties, and family.
His only worry was his heats. He had assumed they would pass them together even after they had children, using herbs to stop conception. The heats were truly brutal without an Alpha there after bonding, he had heard, but it was doubtful Lord Raphael would tolerate the intimacy.
It was not worth thinking about that now, however. Lord Raphael would have to at least spend the first few with him, for the sake of the bond.
Resolute, he strode out of his room, catching Melissa by surprise as he went down the stairs.
“Do you know where Lord Raphael is?” Milan asked.
“In his study, I believe.”
Not a great surprise—if he wasn’t working outside, he was working inside.
“Thank you. I’ll have breakfast later.”
Honeythorn: Alpha/Omega Page 7
