Chapter 42
42 Chapter 42 You Will Call Me
Husband
Faye’s POV
The rhythmic clatter of wheels against stone and the gentle rocking motion pulled me from sleep. My eyes fluttered open to unfamiliar surroundings, and for a moment I couldn’t place where I was. Then the rich scent of leather and cedar filled my senses, along with the warmth of heavy furs wrapped around my body.
The carriage. Hardy’s traveling carriage.
I pushed myself upright slowly, expecting the usual aches and pains that came from sleeping in uncomfortable positions. Instead, I felt remarkably refreshed. No crick in my neck, no stiffness in my shoulders. Strange, considering I remembered falling asleep against something decidedly hard and unyielding.
The interior was exactly as I remembered it from before. Spacious enough for a small war council,
reinforced with thick iron bands, cushioned with the finest northern furs. Everything about it screamed military precision and wealth.
My gaze swept across the space and landed on the figure seated across from me.
Hardy sat perfectly upright on the opposite bench, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. His head rested against the padded wall behind him, and his breathing came deep and even. He looked completely at peace, which struck me as oddly out of character. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ.net
I had never seen him vulnerable like this before. Without his usual mask of cold authority, he appeared almost human. The harsh lines around his eyes had softened, and that perpetual tension in his jaw had finally eased. He appeared younger than his commanding presence suggested, I realized. Sometimes his commanding presence made him seem ageless, but now I could see traces of the man he might have been before war and politics carved him into something harder.
Then my attention shifted to myself, and my blood ran cold.
These weren’t the clothes I had fallen asleep in.
I looked down at the clean tunic and fitted leggings I now wore. The fabric was soft and expensive, clearly chosen with care. My old travel–stained garments were nowhere to be seen.
Someone had undressed me. Someone had put these clothes on me while I slept.
Heat flooded my cheeks as the implications sank in. Given that we were alone in this carriage, there was really only one possibility.
I glanced back at Hardy’s still form, trying to process this development. He had seen me without clothes before, but this felt different somehow. More intimate. The thought of his hands carefully changing my clothing while I lay unconscious sent an unexpected shiver through me.
That was when I noticed his eyes were open.
Dark and alert, watching me with that unreadable expression I was beginning to know too well.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Oh! You’re awake p>
The words tumbled out in a pitch that was far too bright and cheerful for the situation. I sounded like I was greeting the baker, not confronting the man who had apparently seen fit to play lady’s maid while I slept.
He said nothing, just continued to study me with those penetrating eyes.
I tried to school my features into something resembling composure, but I could feel an awkward smile tugging at my lips. The silence stretched between us, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
“Did I disturb your sleep?” I managed, desperate to fill the quiet.
“How do you feel?” he asked instead, deflecting my question entirely.
“Fine. Well rested, actually. Thank you.” I kept my voice carefully neutral, though my mind was racing with questions I didn’t dare voice,
“Good.” He shifted slightly, turning his head toward the carriage door. “Though it wasn’t you who woke me p>
42 Chapter 42 You Will Call Me Husband
Before I could ask what he meant, a sharp knock echoed from outside.
“My lord,” came Allen’s voice through the wood. “We’re approaching Scarlet Howlers territory. Alpha Marcus has sent riders to escort us to his compound. He’s extended an invitation for you to stay at his pack house p>
The blood drained from my face. Scarlet Howlers Pack. Alpha Marcus Dickinson.
I knew that name, knew that pack. They were neighbors to Duskwood, and Alpha Marcus had visited us several times over the years. But more importantly, I knew exactly who Marcus Dickinson was to Hardy.
His first father–in–law. The father of the bride who had died on her wedding night.
I stared at Hardy, waiting for his reaction. Surely he would decline this invitation. The situation had to be beyond awkward. What did one say to the father of a wife who had died under such mysterious
circumstances?
But Hardy’s expression remained perfectly calm. He
looked at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching my face as if gauging my reaction.
Finally, he turned back toward the door. “Tell them to prepare accommodations. My wife requires rest p>
I felt my jaw drop. “You’re actually going to stop there?” The question burst out before I could stop myself.
“Yes p>
“With them?” I pressed, needing to be absolutely certain we were talking about the same people. “With Alpha Marcus p>
His gaze sharpened slightly. “Is there an issue with that arrangement p>
I scrambled for words. “No, of course not, My Lord p>
“Husband,” he corrected, his voice dropping to that low, commanding tone that seemed to resonate in my chest. “You will call me husband p>
Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.