The Vines Of Blood And Ash ( Book Two of the How Deep the Roots Go series)

Chapter 33

He was furious with her, he thought, as he stormed inside the house, leaving Temperance standing on the front porch.

After all, he had a divine right to be. She was his responsibility to shield and protect, for God sake. How could he do so if she were keeping secrets from him? He had expected her unyielding demeanor to maintain in their marriage, but never had he expected the veil of a lie from her.

Breathing out a rushed breath, he went to the liquor cabinet that was in the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen. Though it was midday, he didn't give a damn. He couldn't wrap his head around her not telling him the truth. He immediately went for the whiskey, attempting to renounce the deception that lingered between them.

Opening the bottle and walking to the counter top to pour it into a glass, he heard the front door open and then shut. He knew he had upset her, saw the way she became instantly defensive when he berated her about today.

"That is all you have to say?" she asked, her tone bemused.

His shoulders stiffened. Without answering, he poured his drink. He had to choose his words carefully before he spoke.

She watched him slowly pour his drink, knowing he was deliberating on how to respond to her. She was piss mad too, she thought. How dare him spy on her to begin with!

She heard the whiskey hit the glass, saw him sit the bottle of Johnny Walker on the counter next to it as he lifted the glass to his lips, all the while staring out the kitchen window.

Still he didn't answer — still, she remained standing there, wanting to hear his voice, even though she knew it would be laced with anger.

Breaking the silence, she started. "Say something, Roman," she cried out.

But nothing... No words were spoken from him. Nothing but the silence in the kitchen was their company.

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "It wasn't my intention to deceive you," she whispered, now standing by the head of the table.

He looked over his shoulder and paused, his back to her still, the colors of the afternoon sky shadowing his face. "Really?" he responded gravely, shaking his head, going back for another sip of his drink.

She leered at him, her eyes burning the breadth of his back. "Yes," she answered, "I never meant to do anything other than seek some answers from my father —"

He turned. "Then you should have told me, Temperance!" he rebutted, his voice intense.

"I was going to," she answered swiftly.

He stepped back and leaned against the counter, the drink in his left hand. "Was, being the operative word, I take."

She shook her head, taking a tentative step back from him. "No, Roman. I was going to tell you everything."

He set the glass down and crossed his arms over his chest. "Then why the shadow of a secret?" he lifted his shoulder. "Why couldn't you just tell me you were going to meet your father? I would have been there to protect you."

Her eyebrows darted up in surprise. "You and I discussed him at length after you and Wyatt went to meet him. I recall you mentioning he was safe, and that you believed he hadn't intended to bring me harm."

His expression was vacant. "That is not my point," he said dryly. "I cannot shield you when you place yourself in positions that could lead to your harm or death."

She narrowed her eyes. "I went to church, Roman. I reached out to my father thinking hallowed ground would be a safe, neutral place, to meet him, nothing more," her arms lifted in surrender.