“Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Do not fret—it leads only to evil. For the wicked shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land.”

But her face. Her bruises.

I have many enemies.

Surely being my wife couldn’t be worse than that? She would be cared for here. Protected. Treated better than she deserved. And yet . . . a small, grim voice in the back of my mind whispered that perhaps it was good she had gone. Perhaps this solved a problem. Perhaps—

No. I had made a vow to this woman. To God. I would not forsake it. If she wasn’t back in another hour, I’d go out and find her—ransack the city if I must. If I didn’t have my honor, I didn’t have anything. She would not take that from me. I wouldn’t allow it.

“Well, this is a fun surprise.”

I jerked my head up at the familiar voice. Unexpected relief swept through me. Because there, leaning against the doorjamb and grinning, stood my wife. Her arms were crossed against her chest, and beneath her cloak, she wore—she wore—

“What are you wearing?” I shot up from my chair. Stared determinedly at her face and not . . . elsewhere.

She looked down at her thighs—her very visible, very shapely thighs—and parted her cloak farther with the brush of her hand. Casually. As if she didn’t know what she was doing. “I believe they’re called pants. Surely you’ve heard of them—”

“I—” Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus, to look anywhere but her legs. “Wait, what surprise?”

She strode farther into the room, trailing a finger down my arm as she passed. “You’re my husband now, dear. What sort of wife would I be if I couldn’t speak your language?”

“My language?”

“Silence. You’re well versed in it.” After tossing aside her cloak, she threw herself down on the bed and stuck a leg up in the air to examine it. I glared at the floor. “I’m a fast learner. I’ve only known you a few days, but I can already interpret the very angry, slightly doubtful, and frankly worried silence you’ve been fretting in all morning. I’m touched.”

Refrain from anger. I unclenched my jaw and glared at the desk. “Where were you?”

“I went out to get a bun.”

Forsake wrath. I gripped the back of the chair. Too hard. The wood bit into my fingertips, and my knuckles turned white. “A bun?”

“Yes, a bun.” She shucked off her boots. They hit the floor with two dull thuds. “I overslept the matinee—probably because someone woke me up at the ass crack—”

“Watch your mouth—”

“—of dawn.” She stretched leisurely and fell back against the pillows. Sharp pains shot up my fingers from my grip on the chair. I took a deep breath and let go. “A page boy brought me a rather unfortunate dress this morning—one of the maids’, with a neckline up to my ears—to wear until someone could make it to market. No one had exactly made it a priority, so I charmed the kid into giving me the coin the Archbishop left for my wardrobe and took the liberty of purchasing it myself. The rest will be delivered this evening.”

Dresses. To purchase dresses—not this unholy creation. This pair of trousers looked nothing like the grubby pair she’d worn before. She’d obviously had these tailored with the Archbishop’s coin. They fit her like a second skin.

I cleared my throat. Maintained my visual of the desk. “And the guards—they let you—”

“Leave? Of course. We were under the impression this wasn’t a prison sentence.”

Refrain from anger. I turned slowly. “I told you to stay in the Tower.”

I risked a glance at her then. Mistake. She’d propped her knees up, kicking one over the other. Flaunting every curve on her lower body. I swallowed hard and forced my gaze back to the floor.

She knew what she was doing, too. Devil.

“And you expected me to listen?” She laughed. No—chuckled. “Honestly, Chass, it was a little too easy to leave. The guards at the door almost begged me to go. You should’ve seen their faces when I actually came back—”

“Why did you?” The words came out before I could stop them. I cringed internally. It wasn’t as if I cared. And it didn’t matter, anyway. All that mattered was that she’d disobeyed me. As for my brothers . . . I would need to have a word with them. Clearly. No one abhorred the heathen’s presence more than I, but the Archbishop had given orders.

She stayed. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.

“I told you, Chass.” Her voice grew unusually quiet, and I risked another glance. She’d rolled to her side and now looked me square in the eye. Chin propped in her hand. Arm draped across her waist. “I have many enemies.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. Her face remained impassive. For the first time since I’d met her, emotion didn’t radiate from her very being. She was . . . blank. Carefully, skillfully blank. She arched a brow at my appraisal. A silent question.

But there was no need to ask—to have her confirm what I already suspected. Stupid as it was to take a thief at her word, there wasn’t a better explanation for why she’d returned. I didn’t want to admit it, but she was clever. Masterful at the art of escape. Probably impossible to find once hidden.

Which meant she was here because she wanted to be. Because she needed to be. Whoever her enemies were, they must’ve been dangerous.

I broke our eye contact to stare at the bedpost. Focus. “You disobeyed me,” I repeated. “I told you to stay in the Tower, and you didn’t. You broke trust.” She rolled her eyes, mask cracking. I tried to resurrect my previous anger, but it didn’t burn quite as hot now. “The guards will be more vigilant, especially after the Archbishop hears of your indiscretions. He won’t be pleased—”

“Unexpected bonus—”

“And you’ll remain confined to the lower floors,” I finished through clenched teeth. “The dormitories and commissary.”

She sat up, curiosity flaring in her blue-green eyes. “What’s on the top floors, again?”

“None of your business.” I strode to the door without looking back at her, sighing in relief when a maid strode past. “Bridgette! Can my wife, er, borrow a gown? I’ll return it first thing tomorrow morning.” When she nodded, blushing, and hurried away, I turned back to Louise. “You’ll need to change. We’re going to the council room, and you can’t wear those in front of my brothers.”

She didn’t move. “Your brothers? What could they possibly want with me?”

It must’ve been physically impossible for this woman to submit to her husband. “They want to ask you some questions about your witch friend.”

Her answer came immediately. “I’m not interested.”

“It wasn’t a request. As soon as you’re dressed appropriately, we leave.”

“No.”

I glared at her for a full second longer—waiting for her to concede, waiting for her to demonstrate the proper meekness befitting a woman—before realizing who this was.

Lou. A thief with a man’s name. I turned on my heel. “Fine. Let’s go.”