“Because I refused to marry him!” My voice cracked and I pulled a quick breath in through my nose to keep from crying. “His pride’s been hurt and rather than having to admit being wrong about God’s will, he’s determined to place the blame on me. It’s a most convenient argument, indeed. A righteous woman would have gladly accepted his proposals; therefore I am Satan’s whore. How could anyone argue against such logic?”
This final accusation was more than I could bear. Before I could gain control, my chest constricted sharply, releasing a torrent of suppressed rage, heartache, and fear that had been accumulating over the past week. All the tears I had carefully held back came flooding out, wetting my cheeks and blurring my vision. Ashamed of my traitorous emotions, I tried to wrench my arm free and run from the room. But Henry’s grip held fast and I found myself in his arms, pressed tightly against his chest as I continued to cry in terrible, gulping sobs.
“There, there,” he said soothingly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
For the first time since my father died, my defenses came crashing down and rather than frantically scrambling to replace the pieces, I submitted to Henry’s comfort. He stroked my hair with one hand while keeping the other firmly on my back as he waited for my tears to run their course. I cried until there was nothing left and even then I didn’t pull back, but rested my cheek against his warm skin and listened to the slow beating of his heart. His arms felt so safe I could have stayed like this forever. Or at least a few more minutes.
The minutes I got when Henry placed a hand under my chin and raised my face to look at him. “Do you feel better?” he asked gently. I nodded my head and he handed me one of the unused linen strips to wipe my eyes.
I wanted him to hear the truth. “Henry, I locked you in your room because I thought you were planning to run away and I didn’t know what else to do. I shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry.” This next part was going to be more difficult. I pushed forward, determined to finish. “I’m also sorry for making you marry me. I know it was wrong, but I’m really not a bad person and you need to stop hating me so much.” One hand still rested on my back and I stared up at him, looking for some sign that my apology had been accepted.
“Oh, Selah,” he said, his voice suddenly tender. “I don’t hate you.”
“Then why have you been so unpleasant since we married?”
“Because I was mad as hell for being backed into a corner and forced to act contrary to my wishes. But I never hated you.”
Some of my hair had fallen loose and he reached up with his free hand to tuck the errant strands behind my ear. “Come and sit down,” he said, leading me over to the armchair by the hearth. This was the only seat in the room, so he sat on the footstool directly in front of me. “Now that I’ve met Mr. Crowley, I can understand a little better why you acted the way you did. Not that I like it, mind you, but there’s a chance I may have done something similar if standing in your place.”
His confession surprised me. “Would you have really?”
“Without parents or a husband, I admit you had very few options other than exploiting my unfortunate situation and threatening to sell me to a blackguard if I refused.” He tried to sound cross, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward, giving him away. “I guess my time in the Colonies could have been spent in worse ways than pretending to be the husband of a beautiful woman, even if she’s feisty and domineering, and locks me in my room.”
I laughed from this description of my behavior, though the humor was short lived. “Your contract might be considerably shorter than you expected for I’m sure by now Nathan has told all of Hopewell that I’m a witch. If the townsfolk don’t come tonight with their torches and pitchforks, the bailiff will certainly be here first thing in the morning to arrest me.”
Henry looked thoughtful as he shifted his weight on the stool. “Nathan may have been persuaded to say nothing for the time being,” he said after a moment.
“And why would he do that?” I asked, and then recalled their private conversation outside. “What did you say to him?”
“I might have offered to remove his tongue with my sword if he ever spoke ill of you again.”
“You didn’t!” I said, thoroughly delighted.
“It’s also possible I may have suggested cutting his eyes out if he so much as looked at you the wrong way.”
“Oh, Henry!” I said, so pleased I could kiss him. “You are the most wonderful husband. Thirteen pounds was a positive bargain.”
He frowned at my jest, but let it pass. “My threats will keep him quiet for awhile, but his pride will eventually win out. We must act preemptively before he decides that charging you is worth the personal risk.”