Dearest Evelyn

-chapter 37-

For the next day, Terrin only talked excitedly about my valor-to-be. Already Bacmand had a paper back from some tailor back at the castle that showed what he (the tailor) was making. Bacmand was gifted, but he didn’t want to attempt at making my dress in case something seriously bad should happen to it here on the battlefield.

It was . . . well . . . feminine. It was long, flowing and white. The model depicted had hair similar to mine: waist-length, golden strawberry colored, thick and wavy. A grown of gold nestled in her hair. Sleeves of white, showing much skin yet flowing down to at least the knee. A train that ended well past the ankles. Tightly fitting around the bodice, shapely around the thighs, and basic, loose flowing waves everywhere else.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to focus on it. I’d rather go stark naked than wear a woman’s gown. Ok, well, maybe not amongst nothing but men . . . but still . . . I just wasn’t that feminine nor beautiful. I’d never pull it off like my mother could.

I had first imagined the model as her. She was perfect for it . . . not me . . . .

I grimaced and placed Geraldine into her riding bag, up on Lance’s saddle.

“You’re leaving.” I could hear the disappointment in Hector’s voice.

I nodded.

He turned me around, like always. My heart grew warm at his closeness, and my skin tingled with his touch. I still wasn’t used to it, and I was still trying to shake free of it. I was married. I was married. I was married!

His kiss awoke me from my distracted thoughts.

“You’re so stoic.” He mumbled when he pulled away.

The warmth of his lips still lingered, and I had to resist reaching up to see if it was real. The ring on my left hand stopped me.

I frowned.

“What?” he whispered.

I shook my head, closing my eyes. No, not now. I wished it would go away. But no . . . Gwindire had messed up any chances of me ever getting over Hector.

“Please Eve,” he continued, letting his lips brush against my neck. I wanted to melt. “Just once, before you leave.”

“How do you know I’m not coming back?” I strained against a groan.

He knew what he was doing. “I don’t.”

“Don’t talk like that.” I whispered, even though I wasn’t sure if I actually was coming back or not. Surely, if Terrin had made plans for my . . . I don’t know what to call it. Idolization?

He let his head rest on my shoulder, nestled into the crook of my neck.

His warm breath across my throat and chest made me close my eyes for a moment. Like that last night in the gardens . . . .

“Please, Eve?”

“Why beg?” I asked softly.

“You aren’t one to give in.” he chuckled.

I shook my head. His strong arms around me made me give in and wrap my arms in return around his back.

“If the other men see us like this . . . .”

He chuckled again. “They’ll what? Tell Gwin?”

I grimaced. Yeah, that wouldn’t have done anything. Gwindire would probably laugh it off in their face, maybe even letting them in on what he allowed Hector to do. I wondered if he trusted me still—holding on to that last sanction that I could at least preserve for the boundaries of our marriage. I hadn’t let Hector bed me, and I wasn’t going to.