Never Less Than A Lady | Herophine

Chapter Fourteen

Hero

Hero's delight in his bride's eager response was interrupted when he felt the stunning, incomprehensible ridged scar tissue on her lovely breast.

His happiness splintered as she frantically wrenched herself from his embrace. She stumbled blindly away until she banged into the corner of the room. There she folded over onto the floor in a sobbing ball, her blonde hair falling over her face.

The change in mood was as sudden and violent as cannon fire. He had been so sure that she desired him as he desired her. They would become lovers and mates with the intimacy he had craved since he first saw her.

Hope died in an instant as understanding sliced into his heart like shrapnel. But his pain was nothing compared to hers. Her anguished flight defined her first horrific marriage with visceral power.

He knelt beside her, sickened by the knowledge that Xander could still reduce Josephine to anguished terror a dozen years after his death. "Josephine, tell me what happened. I need to understand."

She shook her head, her face buried in her hands. "It's...it's not you."

No, but Hero must deal with the consequences. Her left shoulder was still bare, so he was able to confirm the atrocity he'd discovered by touch. The soft curve of her breast was marred by an ugly ridge of scar tissue that formed an irregular letter X.

Grimly he pulled the gown up over her shoulder. "X for Xander, of course." His voice was unnaturally steady. "I wouldn't have thought even he could be so vile."

She seemed to shrink even further. "He carved an T for Tiffin into my other breast too," she said dully. "The night I asked for a separation. The night he died."

Hoping talk would pull her away from her inner hell, he said, "When you told me about that night, you said Xander was drunk?"

"Drunk and mad." She drew a shuddering breath. "After beating me within an inch of my life, he pulled out his knife and pinned me down with his knee while he slashed off my clothing. He used an antique Saracen dagger he was particularly fond of. He loved all knives."

"I know. He would sit around and sharpen them for hours." Hero's throat constricted as a long-buried memory surfaced. More than once, Xander had come after his younger cousin with one of his knives, but Hero was fast and he learned to fight back when speed wasn't enough.

He glanced down at the thin white line that twisted around his left wrist and up his forearm. That was a remnant of the incident that made it clear he must fight to survive.

Forcing down his rage so as not to upset Josephine even more, he said, "No one should have to endure what you've endured."

"I was his wife," she said bitterly. "He could do with me as he will. He said that repeatedly. I was his possession, and he had the right to mark me as his. After he cut the letters into my breasts, he raped me."

"For fucks sake, Jo..." Hero said, too anguished to pretend calm.

She laughed, a hysterical edge to her voice. "The rape was what saved me, actually. When Xander was done, he slumped down on me and I was able to push him off. I managed to get to my feet. Before I could escape, he grabbed at me, but I was slippery with blood and he couldn't keep hold when I shoved him. He... he fell into the edge of the fireplace then. I don't remember screaming, but when I thought back later, I always heard screams. Odd, don't you think?"

"Xander was evil," Hero retorted, unable to keep his voice calm. He took her hand. She tried to tug it free but he held fast. She needed to be tethered to the present so she wouldn't drown in the past. "You are not to blame for his madness."