The Rose Red Bride JK2 by Claire Delacroix

people to his own ends, however justified his goals might be. He dressed with curt movements, his gaze fixed upon the woman who curled into the hollow of warmth his body had left, reminding himself of what he was compelled to do.
    He was not truly surprised to find himself hating what he had become, though he hoped with all his heart and soul that the reward would be worth the price.
    His daughters, after all, deserved no less than his all.
     
    * * *
     
    Chapter Three
     
    Vivienne awakened, feeling slightly chilled, and nestled deeper into the fur lining of her cloak. She was well content, for she had learned the import of Madeline’s secretive smile. She smiled herself and stretched out a hand for her lover true, more than amenable to feeling his caress once more.
    Vivienne’s fingers closed upon emptiness, and her eyes flew open. Surely he had not returned to his fairy realm without sparing her a word?
    Only the first touch of the dawn lit the sill of the chamber and shadows yet lurked in the corners. The cold of night emanated from the stone walls. Shapes were discernible as shadows against the shadows, including one large male silhouette before the window. Vivienne sighed with relief.
    He stood with arms crossed and feet braced against the floor, the sky behind him a rosy luminescent pearl. His hood was drawn over his head and cast his features in deeper shadow, though Vivienne knew he watched her avidly. She might have been fearful of his size and stillness, if he had not introduced her so tenderly to the delights of the marital bed.
    But she knew sufficient of this man to feel no such fear. She granted him a smile, though she could not see whether he responded in kind.
    She sat up, knowing her hair would have crept free from her braid and her chemise tangled around her waist, knowing she looked like a maiden thoroughly sampled and sated. For once in her life, she did not care that she was not so orderly as Madeline.
    “Surely you cannot mean to leave so soon?” she asked. “It is still dark. Surely you can return to my side for a few moments yet.” She eased back, making space for him on the pallet, but he did not move.
    “It is late enough,” he said, his words terse. He spared the barest glance to the window, and his tone did not soften. “Garb yourself. We depart immediately.”
    Vivienne struggled to make sense of both his words and his manner. “Depart? But we have only spent one night abed.”
    “And it is sufficient to require our timely departure.” He crossed the chamber and lifted her discarded kirtle from the floor, shaking it out with impatience before offering it to her.
    Vivienne pushed her hair back from her brow. “But this is not my expectation,” she argued. “The tale clearly declared that there would be three nights of courtship, not one, and a red rose as a bride price before the nuptials.”
    “Your bride price was considerably higher than a single rose,” he said sharply and tried to hand her kirtle to her again.
    Vivienne stared at him in astonishment and a dreadful sense assailed her. Had she mistaken a tale for some other truth?
    What had Alexander done?
    “Hasten yourself. There is no time to delay.”
    Vivienne rose reluctantly to her feet and took the garment from him, hoping her fears proved groundless. She tried to touch his hand in the transaction, but he pulled his fingers away. Whether it was by accident or design, his gesture made Vivienne’s confidence falter further.
    “You cannot mean that you have already paid a bride price,” she said, her heart fairly in her throat. “Surely you but know its value and intend to pay it two days hence.”
    “It is paid, and doubtless half spent.”
    “What price did you pay?” She thought he might not answer her, so continued, her tone firm. “Surely I have a right to know my own supposed merit?”
    “A sack of silver coins, one that your brother was quick to claim for his own.”
    Vivienne winced at his harsh tone and