overindulgence in man's sexual energies can lead to sickness, even death."
"Who told you such nonsense?" Anya stopped before her husband, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him.
"It's a widely held fact that—"
"Nonsense," she interrupted.
"Anya, you have no idea what you're talking about."
She knelt before him and placed her hands on his knees. "But I do, marido . Since I have come here, everything has changed. I am no longer a goddess. I always say and do the wrong thing. I feel like I am living in a nightmare."
He laid a comforting hand in her hair.
"I am wrong, more often than not, but I am not wrong about this. No man ever lost his ability to think or died because he took pleasure in his wife's body."
"As I said, marital relations are best reserved for procreation. For... for creating life."
Her heart fell. "And I cannot have children." It was her greatest heartache. "That means I am imperfect in your eyes."
For the first time since Julian had initially spurned her, she believed him. He did not want her. It had nothing to do with his ridiculous excuses, though. She could not give him a son, and so he did not want her. It was that simple.
"No..." he began.
Anya did not sit at his feet to listen to his vile excuses. She jumped up and returned to her chair.
"I will not make a fool of myself by asking you again to bed me," she said, her eyes on the window and the bright sun beyond. "I would not ask you to sink so low as to sleep with a flawed woman."
"Anya, you are not flawed. But this is... this is..."
She sat in her chair and scooped her boring book from the floor. "You are the teacher and I am the student."
"Exactly." He seemed relieved.
"You will teach me to behave in the way my family expects, and then you will leave and never come back."
"Yes. This is a business arrangement, Anya. Nothing more. A man and a woman can expect more from marriage than a physical relationship that might very well do them both harm. There is companionship to be had in marriage, as well as a dedication to higher and better morality. We are not savages, Anya. We are civilized men and women who have risen above the physical."
She had been so certain, when she had looked at him, touched him, smelled him, that he wanted her. How could she have been so wrong?
She had not been wrong. Julian did desire her, but he did not want a wife who could not give him a son.
Like Sebastian. Poor Sebastian. He had terrible bad luck, for a king. His first concubine, Emelda, was also barren. As was Anya. As was the woman he had taken to his bed when Anya had proved unable to give him a child. Three women, all of them unfruitful. A king needed a son, yet each of the three women Sebastian had taken as a lover proved to be unable to give him a child. Poor Sebastian, he had surely been cursed.
Julian smiled at her. "One day you will know I am right about this."
She threw the book at his head.
* * *
"My darling, you look marvelous!" Mrs. Sedley crossed the parlor with quick, delicate steps, her radiant smile for her granddaughter and no one else. Valerie and Seymour exchanged a look and then left the room together.
Mrs. Sedley took Anya's hands, clasped them between her own, and looked the girl up and down. The gown Anya wore was a colorful rose, with a neckline lower than Julian approved of. It was rather decadent, and Anya filled it out rather nicely.
"Just marvelous," the older woman continued. "Why, you'll be a proper lady in no time."
Julian rubbed the small bump on his aching head, a reflexive action Anya surely saw.
"It is too tight," she said tersely. "And the lace makes my bosom itch." To make her point, Anya delicately scratched at the rising flesh above the low neckline.
Mrs. Sedley's smile faded, just a little.
"And must I wear this large bow on my arse?" Anya turned to display the satin bow in question.
"Anya," Julian scolded in a low voice. "That's not a proper word."
She looked at him as if he were daft.
"Who told you such nonsense?" Anya stopped before her husband, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him.
"It's a widely held fact that—"
"Nonsense," she interrupted.
"Anya, you have no idea what you're talking about."
She knelt before him and placed her hands on his knees. "But I do, marido . Since I have come here, everything has changed. I am no longer a goddess. I always say and do the wrong thing. I feel like I am living in a nightmare."
He laid a comforting hand in her hair.
"I am wrong, more often than not, but I am not wrong about this. No man ever lost his ability to think or died because he took pleasure in his wife's body."
"As I said, marital relations are best reserved for procreation. For... for creating life."
Her heart fell. "And I cannot have children." It was her greatest heartache. "That means I am imperfect in your eyes."
For the first time since Julian had initially spurned her, she believed him. He did not want her. It had nothing to do with his ridiculous excuses, though. She could not give him a son, and so he did not want her. It was that simple.
"No..." he began.
Anya did not sit at his feet to listen to his vile excuses. She jumped up and returned to her chair.
"I will not make a fool of myself by asking you again to bed me," she said, her eyes on the window and the bright sun beyond. "I would not ask you to sink so low as to sleep with a flawed woman."
"Anya, you are not flawed. But this is... this is..."
She sat in her chair and scooped her boring book from the floor. "You are the teacher and I am the student."
"Exactly." He seemed relieved.
"You will teach me to behave in the way my family expects, and then you will leave and never come back."
"Yes. This is a business arrangement, Anya. Nothing more. A man and a woman can expect more from marriage than a physical relationship that might very well do them both harm. There is companionship to be had in marriage, as well as a dedication to higher and better morality. We are not savages, Anya. We are civilized men and women who have risen above the physical."
She had been so certain, when she had looked at him, touched him, smelled him, that he wanted her. How could she have been so wrong?
She had not been wrong. Julian did desire her, but he did not want a wife who could not give him a son.
Like Sebastian. Poor Sebastian. He had terrible bad luck, for a king. His first concubine, Emelda, was also barren. As was Anya. As was the woman he had taken to his bed when Anya had proved unable to give him a child. Three women, all of them unfruitful. A king needed a son, yet each of the three women Sebastian had taken as a lover proved to be unable to give him a child. Poor Sebastian, he had surely been cursed.
Julian smiled at her. "One day you will know I am right about this."
She threw the book at his head.
* * *
"My darling, you look marvelous!" Mrs. Sedley crossed the parlor with quick, delicate steps, her radiant smile for her granddaughter and no one else. Valerie and Seymour exchanged a look and then left the room together.
Mrs. Sedley took Anya's hands, clasped them between her own, and looked the girl up and down. The gown Anya wore was a colorful rose, with a neckline lower than Julian approved of. It was rather decadent, and Anya filled it out rather nicely.
"Just marvelous," the older woman continued. "Why, you'll be a proper lady in no time."
Julian rubbed the small bump on his aching head, a reflexive action Anya surely saw.
"It is too tight," she said tersely. "And the lace makes my bosom itch." To make her point, Anya delicately scratched at the rising flesh above the low neckline.
Mrs. Sedley's smile faded, just a little.
"And must I wear this large bow on my arse?" Anya turned to display the satin bow in question.
"Anya," Julian scolded in a low voice. "That's not a proper word."
She looked at him as if he were daft.
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