Diana Hamilton - The Faithful Wife

‘Thank you.’ She meant for the food she had barely touched, the cocoa she hadn’t touched at all. ‘But I think I’ll turn in. One way or another, it’s been an extremely unpleasant day.’

She made it to the stairs before he had time to respond. She truly hadn’t meant to snap, but hadn’t been able to keep the acid out of her voice.

Her hair prickling on the back of her neck, she bounded up the staircase. She felt like a rabbit with a fox on its heels. Jacob Charles Fox by name, and foxy by nature, she thought half-hysterically as she breathlessly gained the room she’d earmarked for herself long hours ago when she’d innocently believed she’d be sharing the isolated cottage with Evie.

But he didn’t follow her, as she feared he might, to drag her down and force her to eat the food he’d cooked. Of course he didn’t.

Why the heck should he want to bother? she reminded herself tiredly as she sagged back against the door, one hand at her breast as if to still the wild beating of her heart. Secure in her room, with no sound of following footsteps or angry commands from below, she couldn’t imagine why she’d panicked.

He had done what he would have considered to be his duty. Reminded her that she had to eat, produced the food. It was up to her whether she ate it or not. He couldn’t care either way. So the absence of a lock on the door was no problem either, was it? He wouldn’t try to claim his conjugal rights.

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