Conceited bastard.
“I won’t deny you have quite an influence,” I tease, “but the place is too beautiful. Did you inherit everything from your father, or is part of it from your mother?”
“Here, in the Highlands, it’s my mother’s inheritance.”
I’m dying of curiosity to know about his childhood, but I’m afraid it will ruin our day.
I sigh, wondering if this is how it will be between us—me having to walk on eggshells, not knowing when to speak or stay silent.
I smile sadly at the irony. I ran from becoming a woman like my mother, only to end up just like her?
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to fight.”
He sits on a rock and pulls me onto his lap. “That wouldn’t be unusual for us.”
“All right, I’ll explain better. I don’t want to fight on our first day as husband and wife. You don’t like talking about the past.”
“No,” he says simply, and his tone shows I was right.
I try to get up, but he stops me.
“But that doesn’t mean I won’t talk. Not about everything, but I can answer some questions.”
“As a concession?” I ask, annoyed.
“No. As part of a dialogue with my wife.”
“I was gearing up for a war, and you disarmed me with that answer.”
He throws his head back laughing, then shakes it from side to side. “You’re unbelievable, princess.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“At this moment, yes. Now ask what you want to know.”
“On the day we went to that dinner celebrating our engagement, when Elizabeth approached me, she didn’t only say your family was cursed, like I told you.”
Again, I can feel his tension.
“She talked about my father’s death,” he concludes.
“Yes. She said that besides killing himself, he murdered your stepmother.”
“It’s true. He killed her and then shot himself in front of me.”
I pull back to look at him, thinking I misheard.
His face is serious like never before—impassive, almost carved from marble. I can’t see any emotion, as if it doesn’t affect him at all.
His eyes betray him for a brief moment, though. Before he can shut them down, I see all the pain there, and it’s like being stabbed in the chest myself.
Rodrick is unshakable. Strong and, in my mind, indestructible. But now I remember what Athol said—pain and anger beneath the surface.
“You’re not going to ask why?” His voice sounds hard.
I straddle him, facing forward. Holding tight around his neck, I kiss his face over and over. “No. If one day you want to tell me, you will.”