“Do not you dare insinuate me to be the villain here. I did not want you or anything to do with you. And make no mistake when I tell you the minute the contract is fulfilled, I will be ending this misery.”

With every word he spoke, he seems to have moved closer, rounding the counter till he traps me against it. My heart races and I pant for breath.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing you only have a short nine months left in this misery,” I manage to say in a clear voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some rest.”

I don’t know how I manage to make it upstairs without spilling my tears, but somehow, I make it till I curled up on the bed of the furthest guest bedroom from the master’s, before the sobs escape me. I always knew my husband resents me for this marriage, but now I know he truly hates me as well, and that thought causes me more pain than any blow my father could ever deliver.

CHAPTER 9

The Cottage

Brooke

Weeks fly by with Landon and I ignoring each other. We eat a quiet breakfast in the morning, in which Landon pushes plates filled with eggs, bacon, potatoes, and fruit, and I ignore it in favor of my jam and toast. Then Landon goes to work, and I go to my work room. I find all my drawings seem to be baby-related lately—a baby bottle, a pair of red rain boots splashing through a puddle. I download every parenting book there is on my Kindle and spend hours researching on the internet. Toward two in the afternoon, my hands are trembling, the muscles refusing to obey my brain’s command.

So napping has become a regularity in my schedule. I sleep in the guest room now. The day after our midnight chat, I moved my things.

*****

Landon had stayed late at work and I was already asleep when he burst in the room waking me.

“What in the hell are you doing in here?” he demanded as he stood over me.

I rubbed my blurry eyes trying to make out his distorted image. “Well, I was sleeping.”

“I can see that, why aren’t you in our bed?”

“I decided I would no longer sleep next to a man who has no respect for me.”

For some reason, he found this funny. “You think you have a choice in this? You sold yourself to me remember. Plus, I remember you promising to obey me.”

My mouth fell open in shock. I could not believe his arrogance. “And you promised to love and cherish me,” I retorted immediately regretting it.

He sneered at me. “I do believe your pregnancy is proof that I loved and cherished you.”

“That is not loving and cherishing me.”

“Really?” Sarcasm dripped off him. He leaned over me, putting his hands on either side of the bed trapping me against the mattress.