Of Fate And Prejudice

Chapter Twenty Two

Roman watched Frances flee his presence like one attempting to outrun a pack of wolves. Her protruding stomach slowed her movements. He was certain that with two strides, he would catch up to her before she even made it to the door. Then he would trap her in his arms and do what he wanted to do since the second he turned from painting the wall to find her watching him.

She looked so ethereal tonight in that flimsy nightgown, and like a vision from his dreams, the mere sight of her beckoned to him. His resolve weakening, he crossed the room to where she stood. Emboldened by the two glasses of brandy he had at dinner, he'd tried to kiss her, but before his lips merged with hers, she pulled away.

Roman wondered if he must go to her. The adjoining door stood between them, but it was he who created the real barrier. He was the one who pushed her away. He'd told her with no uncertain terms that he did not need nor want her. Yet, tonight, he found himself doing both. With his commitment to keep their union unconsummated now drowned in the sea of his lust, he needed to be near her, and he wanted to taste her lips. And he could, all he had to do was open the door. Frances could not resist him, even if she was mad enough to want nothing to do with him. The law compelled her to submit herself to him as her husband, and if she refused, he was well within his rights to take what he wanted through whatever means possible.

Releasing a loud groan, he turned from the adjoining door. No doubt there were men who beat their wives into submission, but he wasn't one of them. Even if he was empowered by law to do so, he could never force his will upon Frances. Besides, what pleasure could be derived from a forced union? He would only succeed in hurting Frances and widening the berth between them. If they ever came together as man and wife, he would ensure she came willingly.

Only if. There was no certainty of their union. Lust polluted his sound judgment tonight, but he didn't doubt his lust would be forgotten by morning. He returned to his bedchamber and spent the night staring at the white ceiling, trying to forget Frances. When that didn't work, he pressed a pillow to his face, hoping the darkness might lull him to sleep. But the darkness only created a perfect canvas for the image of Frances his mind painted. She stood there in the midst of the darkness, an angel of light, surreal in her white nightgown. In his imagination, she didn't resist his kisses. He drank of the sweet taste of her luscious lips while his hands explored her form.

Annoyed by how much power Frances wielded over his mind, he tossed the pillow to the floor and sprang to his feet. There was no use trying to sleep tonight, he hissed, changing out of his nightshirt into his work clothes. He took the oil lamp and made his way out of the sleeping building. The horse neighed when he entered the barn.

"Shh." He placed a finger over his lips. "It's me." He held the lamp up to his face, hoping to quiet the agitated horse. Thankfully, it worked. "Can't sleep," he grumbled, then hung the lamp on a hook by the door, and made his way to the unfinished crib. "Might as well put my time to better use and finish the crib. What other options does a man like me have, when his wife wants nothing to do with him?" Tossing aside the old blanket he'd used to cover the crib, he bent to his knees and took the hammer. "It's what I want, is it not? To be left alone. Now that she's decided to do just that, I'm afraid I hate the feeling. The silence, the distance, it's all driving me mad!" He swore as the hammer landed on his thumb. Hurling the hammer into a pile of crates in the corner, he fell back on his breeches and sucked on his thumb.

The horse neighed again, and Roman guessed he'd annoyed the poor animal. Shaking his head, he went to the stall..

"Forgive me, Storm." He rubbed its mane like he'd done many times through the years, since his father gifted him the animal on his fifteenth birthday. It was the only horse he'd managed to keep through the sale of his property in London. "You're not the cause of my vexation." He smiled when Storm nuzzled his hand. "I'm glad you've forgiven me. If only I can earn Frances' forgiveness as easily as I've managed to earn her disdain. I've cut her many times with my words. I cannot undo the past, but how shall I ensure the future is bearable for the two of us? And the baby, how shall I be a proper father when the mother despises me?"