Leroy's gaze snapped to Aldric. Surely he would deny it. Aldric had known him longest, had marched with him through fire and famine. He should know. Leroy did not take mistresses.
Well, he had one. The Swan Divina. Two, if one counted Lazira. But that was his wife.
Technically, he had none.
Aldric knew. He must know. Leroy could not stomach the scent of another woman. His wife's scent was the only one he could bear. The thought of holding another as he held her… it made his skin crawl, his chest itch as though his own flesh would revolt against him. The very idea might break him out in hives.
Him? With a mistress? With Zara of all people? Zara—the soldier he had saved from certain death and taken in as one of his own men?
Did Cedric truly think him so vile? Did they imagine he would force his wife to share a roof with some favored woman? That he was an insolent beast who mocked her dignity?
His eyes found Aldric again. Say something. But Aldric said nothing.
