Bad Memory

~ Questions Without Answers ~

I had woken up thinking I was in a nightmare. Now, I wondered if this was a fantasy.

I was bound.

Bound to someone other than Quade.

Bound to someone who looked better than any of the men Lillian and I used to dream about ending up with.

The man - no, my husband - approached me cautiously, as one would a wild animal.

"Lemonade" he said, extending a cup like some kind of offering. "Your favorite."

His voice reminded me of distant thunder: soft, deep, powerful. I made the mistake of looking into his mesmerizing brown eyes, only to find myself powerless to look away.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Do you want it?"

Right. The lemonade.

The question was enough to startle me back to reality. "Thank you," I said with a gracious smile as I grabbed the beverage.

It was a sweet gesture, but presenting me with my favorite drink only drove home the realization that this man knew everything about me, but I knew nothing about him.

"Mother, father," I said, shifting my attention to my parents, "could I have some time alone with my husband?"

My mother looked to my father, concern lining her face. "Come, Marjorie," my father commanded. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.

Right before my parents exited the room, my mother turned back. "If you need us, we're just down the hall," she said quickly before my father yanked her outside.

"Sorry," I apologized to General Rowan. "My mother worries about everything."

"It's understandable," he said as he took the seat next to my bed. "After what happened to your brother and then to you."

"What did happen to me?"

He blinked rapidly. "I can't say."

"General," I pleaded softly as I reached for his hand. "Please. I'm so confused."

The general looked down at the point where our skin met. How many times had we done this before? Physical intimacy of any kind between the unbound was prohibited, but upon marriage, many men engaged in regular displays of affection with their wives.

General Rowan appeared to not be one of them. He cleared his throat before sliding his hand out from under mine.

"I can't disobey my orders."

I nodded, trying to keep my tone neutral and my demeanor pleasant. "I understand, General."

"Call me Ezra," he insisted. "And I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm not disappointed, really. I'm so honored to be your wife. How could I be anything but happy, waking up to find that I'm-"

"Shiloh."

His smooth and commanding voice caused me to falter mid-sentence.

"Yes?"

"Promise me something."

"Of course," I said, nodding diligently.

"Don't lie to me. Ever."

I stared at him with wide eyes. That request went against almost all of my teachings. If your husband asks if you like a gift he gave you, always say yes. If he asks if he looks good, always say yes.

And if he asks if you're happy, always say yes.

But we were also instructed to follow anything our husbands said that went against any rules were taught. Their commands were our ultimate orders.