Jacob's Return by Annette Blair

day by day, night by night, beginning the day they married.
    He smiled his devil’s smile and examined her with interest. “Look at yourself, strumpet. With your sloppy breasts hanging from your dress and those harlot’s curls falling down your back. Has Jacob seen you like this? Is he man enough to want you? Has he had you? Even before we married?”
    Something in Rachel snapped, and the years of fear stretching before her were more than she could bear. “I will tell you this, Simon Sauder, no man has ever had me.”
    Like a jackrabbit, he leapt.
    She tried to run, but he caught her by her hair, wrapping it around his wrist, bringing her closer. And closer. Then he shoved her against the wall. Pain made her eyes water.
    “Is Jacob the reason you have avoided our marriage bed these last weeks?”
    “I have stayed up late to make Emma dresses.” Rachel found her mouth pressed so hard against the wall, her foolish excuse became distorted. “And Aaron needs—”
    “Real women care for their children and still do their duty by their husbands.” Simon spoke so softly, so calmly, Rachel shivered.
    She tried to lessen the pressure of his hold on her hair by reaching up to pull it from his grip, but pain blurred her vision. “Sewing for children is difficult,” she added, wondering why she bothered. “And when I come to bed, you are already asleep.”
    “As is your plan.”
    “Yes, God help me! I did it to avoid the agony of your touch.”
    “Because of Jacob.”
    “Because of you!”
    Simon pulled a work-knife from his pocket and shoved her down on the bed, holding her there. “Look at these curls,” he sneered. “They cannot be tamed any more than you. But the Bible says, a woman must submit to her husband in all things. Here, now, we will begin anew,” he said, dancing the knife-blade before her eyes.
    Prickles ran along Rachel’s limbs, black dots clouded her vision, while she concentrated on every breath to keep from allowing the encroaching darkness to swallow her whole.
    “I will tame something of you I can,” Simon said, as if through a tunnel. “Then you will follow willingly enough.” Before the scream left her lips, he slashed. Once. Twice. Three quick cuts.
    Rachel struggled for breath and consciousness as she stared, dazed, at the swirled clusters of her hair marring their wedding quilt.
    Simon looked … victorious, and this she understood. Her severed curls proclaimed his mastery.
    But to Rachel, they represented her marriage. No hope now, for growth or change. Lifeless. Slain.
    Severed. Her hair. His hold. Their marriage.
    Simon had just destroyed every thread of hope she’d foolishly held for a better future. And oddly enough, with the knowledge, energy infused her.
    She jumped from the bed and dashed to the door, but Simon caught and wrenched her arm behind her. Pain shot up to her burning shoulder. He jammed her against the door, his face close. “A woman must submit to her husband, or be punished. You forced me to punish you, Rachel.”
    He let go of her arm to release the placket on his trousers.
    “No!” Rachel screamed, “Not that.” And she slammed her knee between his legs.
    Simon fell cupping himself.
    “Lying still for you has been my choice. But you will never force me against my will.” With trembling hands, Rachel closed her torn bodice, and as he had done to her, she took the knife and danced it before his eyes. “Do they hurt, Simon?” she asked, not recognizing her own voice. “I could cut them off to relieve you of the burden?”
    When the color left Simon’s face, Rachel’s bravado faltered, but she held her stance. “If you ever touch me again, I will reveal everything you have done to me since the day of our marriage. I never wanted to shame our families, but give me one excuse, Deacon Sauder, and I will be silent no more.” Rachel smiled, surprised she could. “And you will be deacon no more.”
    Hate, she saw in his eyes, fierce and deep, but she no