I stared at him. It was almost comical. He truly believed he was the hero of this story, riding north to rescue the damsel he had gleefully thrown to the wolves. He wanted the estate's recovering wealth. Or perhaps his ego simply couldn't handle the idea that I hadn't withered away without him.
Buy me back. I tilted my head. Like a prized mare, like a woman who deserves better than a decaying monster. Henry hissed, stepping closer. You don't have to pretend with me, Cecilia.
I know what he is. He's a freak. A recluse. You're rotting away in this tomb just to spite me. You are speaking of my husband.
The voice did not come from me. It came from the doorway behind Henry. Henry spun around, the blood draining instantly from his face. Nathaniel stood in the threshold. He had not bothered to change out of his working clothes.
He wore heavy boots, canvas trousers, and a thick woolen sweater. He was covered in horsehair and smelled faintly of hay. He had never looked larger or more dangerous. He walked into the room with a predatory slowness. He did not favor his scarred side.
He did not look at the floor. He locked his sharp dark eye onto Henry, his presence filling the massive room, suffocating the London Dandy with sheer physical dominance. "Harwood," Henry choked out, taking a frantic step backward, nearly tripping over a Persian rug. "I was merely checking on Cecilia's welfare." "Old friends, you know."
Nathaniel ignored him entirely. He walked past Henry as if the man were a piece of mildly irritating furniture and came to stand beside me. He reached out casually, resting his large, calloused hand on the small of my back. The heat of his touch radiated through my silk dress. "Is this man bothering you, my dear?"
Nathaniel asked me. His voice was a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated in the quiet room. I looked up at my husband. I saw the strength we had built together. I saw the man who pulled boulders from ditches and kissed me in the dark with a desperate reverence.
Then I looked back at the trembling, pathetic creature I had once planned to marry. No, Nathaniel, I smiled, a sharp, genuine thing. Mr. Pendleton was just leaving. He finds the Yorkshire air a bit too harsh for his constitution. Henry opened his mouth, then closed it.
He looked at Nathaniel's massive frame, the ruined, unforgiving face, and the protective, possessive way he stood beside me. "Right," Henry squeaked, grabbing his hat from a side table. "Yes, I have a long journey ahead." "Good day, your grace, Cecilia. He practically ran from the room.