The Don's Wife

31 | Scars

"Um.. Jamie, I was thinking. If I'm doing this, I might as well do it for a reward."

This side of his wife was a little different to James. Not new, but different. Given that it was the first time she had ever asked him for anything.

James has always given women the cold shoulder. No matter how much they begged for his attention, nor how many times they profess their undying love to him, he has never once spare even a single glance.

But there comes Rosalind.
A strange woman, with a strange light.
Might be the only light he has ever encountered in his dark world.

She showers him with unceasing affection, yet never one who seeks attention.

She gave, and she gave, yet never receive in return.
She smiles, she loves, and she was okay.
After all, she's Rosalind.

Perhaps that's one of the few reasons why he decided to keep her around.

"You're the one who insisted on 'lending a helping hand', and now you ask for a reward?" James raised his brow, seeming intrigued.

Rosalind was convenient.
He thought her affections would be a nuisance,
but it wasn't. Rather, he's fond of it. 

He wanted to hate her, he tried, but failed.
And so, he compromised.

"Right? What audacity." Rosalind laughed nervously. "Sorry, that was a horrible joke." She casted her eyes down, her shoulders drooped in shame.

'As long as she didn't expect anything in return or put me at a disadvantage, she's welcome to do whatever she wants.' That's what James thought.

But recently it began to bother him. Call it a guilty conscience of the recieving end, if you will. Or maybe some sense of husband's dignity that questions his stance. So when his wife finally ask for something, he was covertly pleased.

On one part he was curious of what led her to propose such request. But a bigger part of him was eager to hear her throughly, and grant everything she desires.

"What do you have in mind? Nothing weird though."

She lifted her head, gazed into him with her glimmering eyes and beamed.

"A dance."

***

"Heavens! What on earth happened?! Why is the madam in such horrendous state?" Mary exclaimed as she's jittering about, scrutinizing Rosalind from head to toe.

My incompetence, was what happened.

"Mary, please help me get her cleaned up." Not having the energy nor the face to present Mary with answers, I bypassed her questioning.

Noting my weary appearance, Mary knew well not to pry any further. "Certainly sir, I'll run a warm bath right away!" She nodded and without delay hastened up the stairs while I follow behind her.

Since I carried her out of Finn's mansion, Rosalind has fallen into a deep slumber. One could imagine the fatigue that overcame her after the hell she's put through. Not to mention her delicate body, the strain must've had been too much for her to take.

On the way back I kept checking for any rise of temperature, any irregular breathing, and any change of color on her complexion. Much to my relief, there were no signs of concussion.