Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 169578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 848(@200wpm)___ 678(@250wpm)___ 565(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 848(@200wpm)___ 678(@250wpm)___ 565(@300wpm)
“I know you’re grown. I don’t call you little one to slight you, but because I see how innocent you are in all of this.”
“Then how can you take advantage of me?”
Her words left him stricken, and his devastation rolled into her so hard and fast it knocked the breath from her lungs. “I would never take advantage of your innocence, Delilah. You’re my only light and hope in a world of shadows. My North Star in a black sky. My guiding compass.”
“I don’t want to be your light or your compass. I just want to be the woman I was before I met you. I can’t stomach this… This… thing that you made me.”
It was as if she could feel the air leave his lungs, feel every trace of warmth siphon from the room. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t you get it? This isn’t me. I’m just a girl—”
“No.” His stern rejection forbid her to belittle her relevance in his predestined world. “You might be a solitary female, but you’re much more than just a girl. You’re all I can see, all that I exist for.”
“I don’t belong to you, Christian.”
“But you do. Just as I belong to you.”
They were going in circles again. The relentless hamster wheel exhausted her. So much so, she had no desire to argue. A part of her even felt sorry for rejecting him, and she refused to acknowledge the illogical inclination to comfort him after all he’d done. But the urge existed all the same. “I’m tired.”
“You need to feed.” Without him explaining, she understood what he wanted.
“I’m not doing that to you.”
“Your body needs it, pintura.”
“I don’t care. I just want to sleep.”
He hesitated, then brushed a soft hand over her hair. “Very well. Rest now.”
It seemed too easy, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to spare another second of concern. She even allowed him to run his fingers over her hair, the act soothing and peaceful in a way that comforted her as she so desperately needed to be comforted.
“Shut your eyes and sleep, little one.” Her lashes lowered with each heavy blink until every muscle in her face relaxed and darkness blanketed her. “I’ll take care of you.”
His words tugged at something but the smooth sense of relief that washed over her had her quickly forgetting her concerns. With no recollection of actually falling asleep, she glided deeper and deeper into a comfortable rest, aware that the hollow ache in her belly subsided and the gnawing hunger disappeared.
Warm contentment flowed through her and she rested soundly in his arms. Safe. Trusting that he would protect her, even if it meant saving her from herself.
CHAPTER 11
The gown was a disgusting shade of mint green that reminded Delilah of the time she threw up after too many Jell-o shots. The black apron wasn’t horrible, but the Handmaid’s Tale bonnet was not going anywhere near her head. “I’m not wearing this.”
Christian sighed. “It’s a traditional Amish bonnet.”
“Yes,” she agreed, pointing at her chest. “And I’m traditionally non-Amish.”
The stiff, gauzy atrocity was the epitome of suppression in her mind. It symbolized too much negativity in this day and age. “Men would never wear something so demeaning.”
“We wear hats.”
“To block the sun. That thing—” She pointed at the offensive bonnet. “Is meant to hide a woman’s hair because you people associate hair with vanity and shame. No way am I conforming to such nonsense.”
“I think you misunderstand our meaning, pintura. We cover our heads because it’s proper for prayer. This way, we’re always prepared to speak to God.”
Her chin dropped to her chest as she stared at him with a Kubrick stare.
He shifted under her upward gaze. “Should I protect my manhood?”
“Good instinct.” Only then did she notice the small package wrapped in brown paper that he held in his hand. “What’s that?”
“A gift for you.” He handed her the lightweight bundle that obviously held something delicate inside.
The flowing script reminded her of an exhibit she once saw of Civil War letters—equally beautiful and chilling as she read, To Brother Christian’s betrothed. “God, help me.”
“He’s trying.”
She stilled and returned her stare to him, catching a glimmer of humor in his eye. “Was that a joke?”
Rather than answer, he turned away and busied himself at the dresser.
She smirked and lowered to the bed with the package.
Maybe it was insane to normalize their situation, but she was tired of having bad days and wanted to try a different approach. Last night had been… enlightening and exhausting.
She’d assumed she’d wake up with an information overload hangover, but she actually woke up feeling fantastic. Wanting to get out of the house and explore, she made a promise to behave. She’d bite her tongue clean off if that’s what it took for that to happen. So far, she and Christian had been tolerating each other and managing their circumstances agreeably.