by Bree Wolf
His lips pressed into a thin line, he glared at her. “I do remember, yes.” He leaned forward then, and for a second his eyes drifted down to her lips. “Then did you kiss me the way you did out of revenge?” He shook his head. “Let me tell you, that didn’t feel like revenge. That was passion. No one kisses like that in order to exact revenge.”
Feeling the colour rise to her cheeks, Anna forced a scowl on her face. “That kiss was a mere payment for what I owed you.” Arms akimbo, she squared her shoulders. “Nothing more. And besides, you were the one who deepened the kiss, not me!”
“Because you asked for it, remember?”
“As though that was the only reason,” Anna snapped, willing her voice to sound steady.
“Not the only reason, no,” he admitted, reaching out a hand to cup her face, but Anna quickly stepped back. He swallowed, and his eyes narrowed. “I swear, you’ll be the death of me one day!”
She shrugged. “At least then we’ll be even.”
He scoffed. “Yes, I took your life,” he said, once again stepping closer, his eyes burning into hers, willing her to understand. “I should have asked you for your hand. I took your life out of your hands without a second thought, and for that I am truly sorry. And so I beg you, let me give back what I can. I have no intention of confining you in any way. I want you to be who you are. But I have to tell you that right now I feel like I barely know you.” He took a deep breath. “Who are you, Anna? What do you want? You, not your friend? What do you want?”
Staring at him, Anna couldn’t believe her ears. Could he truly understand how she felt? And what was more, did he truly care to know her? Or was this a trick? Another game? And what was that about Henrietta?
“You know what I want,” Anna said, fighting the urge to confide in him. “I have told you time and time again. But you don’t listen, do you? You can never understand what it is that you did because you don’t care. Not really. You only pretend to in order to extinguish my hatred for you.” She shook her head. “That will never happen. Never will I allow you to affect me in any way, affect who I am. Never.”
“Who do you think I want you to be?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “As much as I want us to get along, I would never want you to be someone you’re not.”
Anna scoffed. “Please, do not pretend that you wouldn’t do everything within your power to have a pliable wife at your side. A wife who does as she is told. A wife who never speaks out against you. A wife to be just another trophy.”
Staring at her, he shook his head. “A pliable wife? You think I want a pliable wife?” For a moment, he just looked at her as though lost in thought. Then his arms shot forward, and his hands clamped around her shoulders, pulling her to him. “Fight me, Anna!” he snarled. “Fight me as much as you want, as hard as you can! Fight me!”
The breath caught in her throat, and Anna felt the heat from his hands burn through the fabric of her sleeves. All the while his eyes drilled into hers, daring her to do as he’d told her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven − Fight Me
“Fight me!” he snarled once more, his hands so tightly wrapped around her arms that he was afraid he would snap them in two. “I dare you!” As she stared up at him, her eyes not wavering from his, he held his breath, hoping, praying to see the spark ignite.
Although she appeared strong-willed most of the time, more than once Edmond had glimpsed a deep pain reflected in her eyes. At some point, she had sustained a wound. A wound that crippled her to this day. A wound that had her doubt her own worth. Was it possible that he had inflicted that wound? Had it been him and his careless proposal?
As much as her stubbornness infuriated him most days, he realised he still cared for her deeply. Seeing her trembling in his arms, he almost abandoned his pursuit to rouse her anger and comforted her. But in the last moment he stopped himself. She didn’t need comfort. No, what she needed was a confrontation. Whatever it was that had created this insurmountable distance between them they had to get it out in the open.
Observing her closely, Edmond’s hope sank. Instead of anger, he saw resignation wash over her, unspilled tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. “Damn it, Anna, fight me!” he growled, feeling his own spirits sink in the face of such desperate need. How was he to rile her into responding with anything but surrender?
When her eyes finally dropped from his face and all tension left her shoulders, a thought struck. Shaking her, he snarled, “I will make you fight me, if it’s the last thing I’ll do!” Then he grabbed her chin, forced her head up and claimed her mouth.
Immediately, she tensed, but did not try to stop him. Neither did she respond in any way.
Abandoning all thoughts of tenderness, Edmond allowed his hands to travel over her body without restriction. Deliberately rough, he squeezed her tender flesh, relieved to note a slight reaction in the way she held herself. Her hands came up to his chest, but she did not push him away…yet.
Continuing his explorations, Edmond reached for her most tender spots. All the while his hungry mouth fed on hers, bruising her lips.
Startled, she opened her mouth in outrage, and he noticed a new strength coming to the hands resting on his chest. Encouraged, Edmond continued his onslaught. Reclaiming her mouth, he bit her lower lip, while his hands found her buttocks, pressing her into him.
As though lightning had struck, Anna came to life. A menacing growl rose from deep within her, and forceful hands pushed him back.
Relieved, Edmond almost forgot to maintain a serious expression on his face before reality found him again in the form of her hand connecting with his left cheek in a quite painful way. Bloody hell, that woman had strength!
Rubbing his cheek, he stared at her.
“I told you not to touch me!” she snarled, eyes ablaze with barely contained fury.
“Good,” he said, allowing a smirk to return to his face, knowing only too well the effect it had on her. “Here,” he called then, throwing her foil at her. Holding his own, he advanced on her, a clear challenge in his eyes.
For a second, Anna hesitated, and Edmond held his breath. Then she slid into position, a snarl drawing down the corners of her mouth.
“Scared?” he asked.
She attacked.
Parrying her lunge, Edmond once more increased the distance between them. “Not bad, my lady,” he mocked. “For a moment, I thought you had actually forgotten your strength.”
Again she came at him, her movements less smooth than they had been before, hindered by the uncontrollable anger he saw flashing in her eyes. Her arm moved too much, and her lunge lost impact. Instead of calling her on her mistake though, Edmond decided to focus on the real problem that had her abandon all she had learnt. “Strong you are, but are you also strong-willed?”
A frown drew down her brows, and her lips tightened. “Shut up!” she growled, advancing on him again.
Allowing her to control the fight, Edmond took up a defensive position, hoping that the exercise would help her work through her anger. “Let me tell you, for someone who is utterly afraid to surrender to another’s will, you’ve quite easily allowed your friend to dictate your life.”
“What?” Stopping in her tracks, she glared at him. “What would you know of Henrietta? She is my friend. I very much doubt that you know what a real friend is.”
Edmond grinned. “Ouch! My lady, you’ve wounded me!” he mocked, revelling in the anger that once more shone in her eyes. “However, my ability as a friend is not the issue here. Miss Henrietta Turner’s is though.” Again she lunged at him, an angry scream rising from her throat. Side-stepping her attack, Edmond shook his head in the most condescending way he could muster. “After meeting your charming friend a few weeks past, I’ve made enquiries.”
“Enquiries?” she asked, staring at him. “How dare you!”
He shrugged. “Well, I thought it my duty to find out what sort of people my wife is acquainted with.” Her eyes narrowed. “What I learnt is precisely
what led me to believe that you, my lady, are not speaking from your own mind.” Although the anger on her face remained, Edmond thought to see a slight shake go through her body as his words sank in. “From what I was told, the young lady exhibits a strong dislike for men in general at almost every occasion, constantly com-plaining about their openly portrayed disrespect for women as well as arguing that women ought to be considered equal to men in every way and allowed the same rights.”
“And is she not justified in her demands?”
“Whether her demands are justified or not is not the issue,” Edmond stated, allowing her to chase him across the clearing as he carefully retreated from her continued attack. “The issue is that these are not your demands. Certainly, you are one to demand respect for who she is, however, you, my lady, are not a crusader.” She stopped, and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, most men may be morons when it comes to their view of how women ought to be. And make no mistake, I do count myself among them. And although you might find that irritating, it is not enough for you to develop such hatred. You,” he said, stepping toward her, “do not generally have a bad opinion of men. Or at least, I am certain, you did not use to before you met her.” His eyes fixed on hers, he saw a small flash of doubt flare into life. Only for a moment, but it gave him hope. “The only man you have a bad opinion of,” he whispered, leaning closer, “is me.”
She drew a deep breath then, her eyes distant.
“Punish me for what I have done,” he pleaded, then shook his head, “but not for something you are afraid I might do.”
“You’re wrong.” Her voice rose as a mere whisper from her throat as her eyes focused on him once more. “There are others I do not hold in high esteem either. Do not flatter yourself. You are far from a unique individual.”
A grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “Jesting, are we? And I had thought you had lost all humour.” Again he took a step forward, only a foil’s length away now. “Granted, you may be disappointed in your father for the agreement he struck with me, but you do not loathe the very sight of him, do you? And besides him, is there truly anyone else you dislike in the same manner?” He shrugged. “I doubt it. From what little time I’ve spent in your company I believe you to be a buoyant woman, who loves and laughs as much as she can. A woman who sees the good in people. A woman who would sacrifice everything to save someone she loves.”
Tears sprang up in her eyes, but she fought them down, her lips thinning once more. She glared at him then, and in one fluid motion she lifted her right arm, bringing the tip of the foil to his chest. “Do not pretend you know me!” she snarled, though on the last word her voice caught. Her hand began to tremble, but her eyes held no mercy. “You!” she spat. “You know nothing about me or Henrietta or the friendship between us. You go through life without a single care in the world, certain that money will solve everything. And when the money runs out, then you just strike a bargain for a wife with a sizable dowry. It doesn’t matter who she is as long as the funds are transferred on time.” She took a step closer and the blossom came to rest against his chest. Rage burning in her eyes, she snarled, “You sicken me!”
Convinced that they had finally gotten to the root of her anger, Edmond knew he had to call her out, to force her to make her choice and reveal her true feelings. Not quite as convinced of the outcome as he would have like to be, Edmond swallowed, meeting her eyes. “I have wronged you, my lady. And you have every right to demand satisfaction. So…” Lifting his hand, he took the blossom off her foil, its deadly tip glistening in the sunlight. “I took your life,” he said, his eyes resting on hers. Then he took a step forward until the sharp tip of the foil came to rest on his chest. “So I am offering mine in return.” Dropping his own foil, he spread his arms. “Exact your revenge, my lady.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight − A Scar for a Scar
Thunderstruck, Anna stared at him. Did he truly intend for her to kill him? Or was this an-other game?
Watching his face, Anna could read nothing but sincerity on his features. His deep, blue eyes locked on hers, he stood with his arms spread as though waiting for her to plunge her weapon into his heart. Did he truly mean for her to kill him? She wondered once more. Or was the revenge he had in mind to be more of a symbolic nature?
Whatever his intentions, they mattered little to her. From the very beginning, he had shown an astounding disregard for her feelings, only concerned with them when they affected him in an inconvenient way. Was this another idea of his to conquer her affections and make her his dutiful wife? Well, if he truly believed it could be done, she would teach him a lesson he would never forget.
Determined to seize the opportunity presented to her, Anna tightened her grip on the hilt. As she shifted her weight forward onto her right foot, she noticed a slight widening of his eyes. Then they narrowed, and he took a deep breath.
Unable to prevent a satisfied smile from surfacing, Anna lifted the foil from where it rested against his shirt and raised it to his face. Once again, she read confusion mixed with a tinge of concern in his eyes. And yet he did not waver in his own resolve. He did not step back or withdraw his offer. He stood, true to his word, and Anna couldn’t help but admire him for it.
Be that as it may, she thought and shook her head to clear it, afraid her own resolve might falter. Narrowing her eyes, she concentrated on the target at hand. Ever so slowly, she brought the tip of her blade down to his cheek.
Settling the tip of the foil just below the eye on the cheekbone, Anna took a deep breath and then, without allowing herself time to abandon her set course, she applied pressure…and the tip broke his skin.
He drew in a sharp breath, and Anna almost dropped the blade as a small drop of blood welled up beneath its tip. Instead, she tightened her hold, clenching her lips into a tight line, then in one fluid motion drew down the blade.
A growl rose from his throat, and his hand shot up to cover his injured cheek, blood seeping through his fingers. For a moment, he looked stunned, then his eyes met hers. “I was not sure you had it in you, my lady.” He slightly bowed his head to her.
Returning the gesture, Anna turned on her heel and strode away. As her body set one foot before the other, her eyes caught the red gleam of her husband’s blood decorating the tip of her weapon. Lifting it to her face, a small droplet ran down the length of the shaft until it reached the hilt. There it pooled, seemingly growing to enormous proportions.
And the dam broke.
Tears streamed down her face, clouding her vision, and Anna dropped the foil, not even glancing at it as it disappeared in the tall grass. She slumped against a tree and wept bitterly, unsure what had brought on these emotions. Feeling the rough bark against her cheek, Anna’s hands dug into the ground, pulling out clumps of dirt and grass. Her damp hair clung to her forehead, and she brushed it away, smearing the dirt on her face.
But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not until strong arms closed around her shoulders and pulled her against a hard, yet welcoming chest.
Holding her tight, he rocked her like one would a weeping child, brushing back her hair and wiping the dirt off her face.
And all the while, Anna kept her eyes closed. She could not look at him, could not look at the wound she had dealt him. What did his eyes hold? Pity? She did not want to know.
When exhaustion finally claimed her, Anna for once surrendered without a fight.
Chapter Twenty-Nine − Open Words
As her world hung upside down, Anna didn’t know where to turn. Had she not always wished to rid herself of her husband? And yet she had crumpled into a weeping heap of a woman at the sight of a little blood, let alone allow the opportunity to exact her revenge slip through her fingers. She had merely cut his cheek. And yet she couldn’t help but wonder if he was all right.
Terrified at the thought of meeting him though, Anna spent the following days locked in her room. Occasionally, he enquired after her, but accepted her refusal to see him. Food was brought up, but mostly retur
ned to the kitchen untouched as Anna had no appetite. All day she sat in the armchair by the window, overlooking the gardens with its peaceful sounds of chirping birds and babbling fountains. And yet, inside, Anna felt the greatest turmoil running rampant through her mind and heart.
Apart from thoughts of her husband, Anna’s mind could not help but dwell on the accusation he had lain at her feet. Was she truly only an echo of Henrietta’s thoughts? Indeed, she had always known her friend to be a strong-willed and determined woman, but would she truly manipulate her in order to support her cause.
Anna shook her head. No, Henrietta would never do such a thing. At least not knowingly.
Still, the question remained what Anna was to do now. She could not remain locked in her room forever. Although at the moment that thought appeared rather tempting.
She had to find a way back. A way back to herself. Who was she? A few days ago she would have answered that question without hesitation. Now, she was not so sure.
When the sun rose on the fifth day, Anna decided that answers where not obtained by sulking and weeping. If she wanted to reclaim her true self, she would have to leave her room and take on the world.
And so two hours later, a slight tremble in her hands, Anna climbed the stairs to the town-house of Henrietta’s uncle.
“Welcome,” her friend greeted her, a delighted smile on her face, and led her into the drawing room. “Would you care for some tea?”
Anna merely shook her head, and Henrietta sent the butler away.
“Are you all right?” her friend enquired after a stretch of silence. “You do seem in low-spirits today? Has anything happened?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this about your husband?”
Shaking her head, Anna wondered how much of her own animosity toward her husband had come from Henrietta. “No, he is not the reason I am here. I need to speak with you.”
