Free Surrender by Sue Lyndon Page A

those tormenting Fiona until she awoke screaming bloody murder? She hoped he was as miserable as she was—a nasty thought she couldn’t squash.
    Frustrated, hurt, worried, and angry, she sat on the edge of the bed cross-legged. She wished she could turn off her brain like a light switch. The wait would be so much easier.
    The wait.
    What if there was no wait? What if this prison room was her new home? She brought her knees up, hugging them to her chest as she considered this horrible possibility. Her mind drifted back under the cold, black sea that had become all too familiar, and she stared at the white ceiling. Religion had always been Janie’s thing, but maybe if Fiona prayed loud enough, a higher being would come to her aide. She recalled how much she’d hated being dragged to church and Sunday school as a child. Her mother had attended a little church where the preacher screamed week after week about the sins of mankind being responsible for all sorts of worldwide calamities.
    A noise. She glanced in the direction of the door and gasped. Speechless, she swallowed hard and gazed directly at Merokk. His massive form took up the whole doorway, and as he stepped farther inside, his strong presence caused equal amounts of dread and relief to mix in her stomach.
    He looked tired and unkempt. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and his clothing was as wrinkled as hers. Perhaps he did share in her misery. A girl could hope, especially when her fate rested in his hands.
    Fiona edged off the bed slowly and stood, waiting in front of him for a reaction—any reaction. Perhaps he would throw her out on the street or turn around and leave her locked in this hell forever, or maybe he’d kill her. She didn’t know what to expect, and the uncertainty drove her mad with fear. Finally he spoke.
    “You always smell cold when you’re afraid. I don’t like it. Not now.” He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded distant, detached from the world. Fiona didn’t reply, she simply waited…and waited. He looked away from her, and his eyes darted around the room. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed acid.
    “Fiona.” He was staring at her again, and hearing him say her name for the first time broke her in pieces. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to stifle a sob, but it ripped from her throat anyway, and a few tears followed, rolling fast down her cheeks. He closed the distance between them and gathered her in his strong arms. “Fiona.” He repeated her name again, his warm lips brushing against her ear. “Let’s get you out of here.”
     
    * * *
     
    Merokk felt like an emotional time bomb, and he loathed his loss of self-control. Maybe he hadn’t waited long enough to free her from the room. One moment he was calm, having convinced himself that Fiona had had no choice but to deceive him for all those months. But in the next moment, he was livid at her for playing him for a fool and not trusting him with her secret. After a few weeks of marriage, she should’ve come to him and confessed. Would she have really pretended to be Betsy Carson for the rest of their lives?
    Lies. Their marriage had been built upon lies. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. Wives were considered possessions, and he was still her master. Such was the Kall way. Only death could tear them apart, and killing her was an option he’d never entertain, no matter what crimes she committed against him. He took a deep breath and leveled his gaze on Fiona. She sat on the edge of their bed, her head lowered. Holding her in his arms moments ago had been nice. He’d missed her terribly.
    “We both owe my father a great deal of thanks. He smoothed the situation over between our people. He made it look like he requested I marry you instead of Betsy Carson at the last minute. Records have been forged to make you appear as a wealthy cousin to Betsy. All the loose ends have been tied. You don’t need to