Dark Halls, Stone Walls

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A bitter feeling filled me and pressed my lips into a thin line, before that same poison drew out the words: "You may not."

He drew back with a half-strained smile, "Sorry?"

This is just pretend. Act what feels best. "What, after you kissed that other woman?" I crossed my arms. "I don't want to smell or taste her on you."

I blinked in surprise at the hurt in my voice despite how steady it held up, but what's more, what words that tumbled out of my lips! I narrowed my eyes at him.

Please don't tell me I was pathetic enough to stay with a cheater. I silently begged.

He raised an eyebrow, "You mean the one with the red dress?"

I nodded. "The one that had a dress that looked like mine. Were there others? Who else?"

He shook his head. "No."

I clenched my jaw, "So you don't deny that you kissed her?"

He sat down next to me with an annoyed expression as if the experience was the bane of his existence. "She kissed me." He sighed. "Thankfully, her fiancee witnessed the entire thing and took her back to her carriage. He explained that she had too many to drink and asked for forgiveness, and the matter was closed." He paused. "If you'd like, I can get both of them back here and have them explain."

"What were you doing with a woman all by herself?" I scrunched my nose. "If you knew she was drunk without an attendant, then why didn't you escort her to her family or her betrothed?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, "I was alone when she approached me and seemed genuinely lost until she got up too close for comfort." He hesitated.

I scanned his guilt-ridden face. My chest panged with a familiar pain, but I had to make him say the truth.

He could have cheated. A small voice whispered. Even if he outright denied it, I have no reason to trust him. I steadied my emotions before they could bubble over.

"What is it?"

"Well, I definitely didn't cheat nor allowed her advances to escalate," He grumbled. "I could smell the alcohol on her."

"What did you–?"

He shook his head, "You'll get angry with me."

I looked him dead in the eyes and glared until he finally caved.

"I... uh, reacted badly to her touching me and kissing me." He muttered. "I knew before doing it that it was too much, but I got way too angry and panicked and um... pushed her to the floor."

I stared at him for a moment. The guilt of his shifty eyes and pale face left behind a look of apprehension, frozen until my reaction would dethaw it.

Flashes of men with red faces appeared in front of me and how they would get uncomfortably close, and if it weren't for my mother and sisters—whose faces remained blurry—they might have started doing other things.

Given what I knew what overindulging in spirits would mean for some men who lacked restraint or scruples, it was somehow shocking to me that a woman would do the same as well. A woman that surely knew what men could do if she were alone with them, did not have the mind to think that she was doing what they would have done.

Shame blossomed in my chest.

You're telling the truth. For once, you're being open with me, I nodded. "Okay."

He flinched. His expression ranged from disbelief, hope, and tension, never settling on one for too long. "'Okay'?"

I offered a small smile. "I believe you. Please, pay it no more mind and forgive my coarseness."