A Dove's Tale

Chapter 164

Many months ago, after our engagement ceremony, I'd made an offhand statement to Chevalier about wanting to spend our honeymoon in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, playing house. I hadn't thought it was possible for the king and queen of Rhodolite, so I'd forgotten it as soon as I said it.

But Chevalier hadn't.

It was the little things like that which helped me adjust to the new physical aspect of our relationship.

No, we weren't in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, but we were alone in a country chateau, and we only needed a few rooms, creating the illusion of a smaller space. And I got to enjoy the simple familiarity of making all our meals, too. That, along with the solitude, allowed me to relax as I worked to overcome a lifelong shyness where my body was concerned.

As far back as I could remember, I'd always hated others seeing me undressed, even my mother. When I became old enough to dress myself, I'd make her step outside, turn her back, or at least close her eyes before I'd change. So, the six weeks of bedrest following my abduction were their own kind of torture for me in that regard. Six weeks of complete helplessness. Six weeks of my doctor and Theresa tending to my every need. Six weeks of no privacy. And then, when I finally regained the ability to care for myself, I had to contend with the ugly scars covering most of my body.

After that, I only changed behind a locked door or a dressing screen, and I did as much as I could without Theresa's help. Nobody, not even her, had seen me in anything less than my undergarments since the bedrest ended. And I rarely looked in the mirror until clothing hid every jagged reminder of that miserable dungeon and that horrible dagger.

The one I hated the most, the largest one, cut a diagonal line across my back from the top of my left hip to near the top of my right shoulder, so at least I couldn't see it without the aid of two mirrors. But Chevalier could see it. Had seen it. Along with every other scar and every part of me. And although he clearly liked what he saw, I still felt an initial shame about the marks marring my skin, and even without them, it was embarrassing at first, letting him look at me. And it was embarrassing for me to look at him.

Although I liked what I saw, too.

His lean, muscular build spoke of the training that allowed him to dominate every opponent at sword fighting, and it reminded me of the fear I'd felt when we first met, the fear that he could snap me like a twig with very little effort. It had been a long time since I'd felt that, and I didn't feel it now. He was as gentle and careful with me as he always had been. It was thrilling, more than anything, seeing and feeling the contrast of his larger size compared to my smaller frame, his power highlighting my weakness, his hard against my soft.

I liked it.

I liked the way he wouldn't let me hide from him, the way his body fit with mine. I liked the feel of his kisses tracing my scars, the sound of his husky voice telling me I was beautiful. It was coming naturally, just not the way I expected. Not that I'd known what to expect. Maybe it was natural to linger in bed until breakfast became lunch, touching and cuddling with no regard for the time. Or to cook meals in my nightgown, because what was the point of getting dressed? Fending off his teasing and flirting over an open flame had been natural for a while, but giving in to burning desire and leaving the dishes in the sink was new.

And right. It felt so right, I reflected, studying my wedding ring under the late afternoon sunshine of that first day.

I lay on my stomach in bed, my arms crossed under my cheek, sunlight catching the thin sheen of sweat on my skin and reflecting from the diamond dove in the center of the gold band. I was no jewelry expert, but I knew it must have been extremely difficult to achieve that shape. The rhodolite garnets studding the circumference of the gold band were a more standard rounded shape and looked a bit like roses, I thought. I didn't have to ask to know Chevalier designed the ring. Intricate, elegant; a clear demonstration of how much he valued me without being ostentatious.