Is this my husband?
His harsh focus switches from my face, to my smooth shoulders peeking out from the fabrics, and down to the floor when my lower legs stagger on the spot. What I'm uncontrollably flashing him goes against every rule in the society handbook.
He huffs angrily and for the second time since I arrived, I want to cry. My husband thinks I'm hideous. I had no expectation for a warm welcome but in my innocent heart, I held out for a moment of reprieve that this next year would be albeit positive.
"I apologise for—"
The handsome stranger or husband, strides away in the opposite direction of the castle.
Does he think he can't live in his own home with me around?
"Coward!" I shout at his retreating broad back. If I weren't holding my clothes, I'd have slapped a hand over my mouth. Why did I say that!?
He angles his face sideways, thick brows furrowed. It makes his nose regal and his jawline sharp. Why am I so focused on his appearance!?
"We're married, d-dammit! The least you can do is acknowledge me. I will not waltz around your shadow because you're too busy carrying what's left of your pride!"
I bite my lip at the damage I'd now caused. He lingers for a minute too long and the tales of a man transforming into a wolf make me believe that he is about to do it now and finally rip me to shreds.
He doesn't. With a disapproving shake of his head, he stalks away.
And speaking of pride, I regain my composure and get dressed as a well respected noblewoman. Write this down ladies and gentleman, Heather Harrington just spoke her true mind for the first time.
"How was the bath?" Emery spoke when I returned. She was sitting with her pseudo twin.
I plaster my lips in a gentle curve. "Lovely, thank you."
Before I walk fully past them, I turn. "It was especially lovely when my husband joined me."
Their mouths are agape as I continue my stroll, noting the various surfaces that I intend to dust.
"As if he would quarrel with someone like her?" They each mutter in their own way.
"She's probably lying. An attention seeker."
"Good point, Bruno."
It was a spiteful act and this venomous illusion did not suit me at all. I tell myself it was just a chance at survival. The Harrington's don't give up or let anyone walk over them.
I'll need to weaponize this faux marriage so my mother and I come out the other end of the tunnel even stronger.
...
The dinner affair hasn't improved.
Tatiana confirmed that there is a perfectly functioning wash bucket and basin for Breanna and I to share. No more pond diving any time soon.
Emery and Bruno snicker fake apologies.
"Well, I've done it before." The other guy with the pale eyes and even paler hair utters. I've learned his name is Weston. "There's something humbling about relying on nature as our ancestors did."
His voice is oddly melodic in his speech.
"That's because you're weird." Breanna tests and Weston throws a peanut at her. I gather that Breanna is the youngest, Tatiana is the eldest, and the rest of us fall within the same twenty-year category. Mentally on a maturity level, the order would be completely different.
When the image of my husband pops in my mind, it proves that he must be in the same age category as me.
"Also, a letter came for you." Tatiana says and munches on a stiff block of broccoli.
"A letter?" I widened my eyes. "It must be from my mother."
She rolls her eyes at my heightened attitude. "Yes, it must be."
Tatiana discards the letter onto the table and I grasp at it enthusiastically. Everyone watches me as I pull it open and—
"Oh."
"What is it?" Breanna marvels.
I don't entertain her with a quick response. I read the letter carefully. It's my mother's scrawl but the information reads:
A Lawn Party has been prospered by the Fundraising Committee. I've diligently inferred to them that the timing is perfect for you to attend with your 'charity case'. You must invite Sir Ryker Blackwood and he will be paid handsomely for his cooperation to hide this marriage. I've yet to break Arnold to tell me what is happening with your father's will, though I am under suspicion of a growing trend of high-ranked wolves in our company of Islestown.
I want you to be at the forefront of this opportunity. Do not let me down.
"Well?" Breanna has leaned over the table, her braids winding down onto the surface.
"Do you think my new husband will appreciate a lawn party?" I announce nervously and tuck the letter away.
Laughter erupts and it pushes me further into an insecure pit. How does mother expect me to suddenly motivate a recluse to rejoin society after shame was smeared on his name?
If his anger this morning was anything to go by, it would only increase in my audacity to organise his life.
"These humans really forget everything they've ever done." Bruno complains and for the first time, I'm seeing how much longer his canine teeth are. That's right, they must all be wolves too.
"Who cares? I want to go to a lawn party." Breanna whines. "Please, please, please!" She gives me puppy (or wolf?) eyes.
I'm in total disbelief at my mother's expectation that I barely notice anyone quietening down or how the chin's of everyone droop into submission.
"Well, he's just going to have to work with me on this one." I echo into the ether.
"Work with you on what?" A booming voice invades the dining room. One of the candles blows out.
One turn and I'm caught again in the honeyed pools of my husband. His expression is flat and he's still wearing the same attire, except I notice he's wearing rider's boots. I am reminded that society threw him out despite his prince-like appearance.
"Perhaps I shall discuss it with you later?" I question and swiftly give my attention back to the dinner plate.
Footsteps follow closely behind me before Breanne scurries off to a different seat and Ryker takes her place seamlessly.
"Perhaps not. Tell me what my dearest wife has in store for me." Ryker throws all manners out the door and he stabs at a vegetable on Breanna's plate to chomp down on it.
I gather my wits and face him dead on. "We've been invited to a Lawn Party."
"Sure."
"Sure!?" We all question in sync.