Chapter Two

Rosalinda’s POV (Present Day)...

“I will not marry him”

The words slip out quiet, almost a whisper. Breathless, really. I say it mostly out of a stubborn need to voice my reluctance to tie myself to some total stranger.

I am not sure that I have been heard but then, Father glances up from his desk, his brows knitting together in a frown. Yes, he heard. And clearly, he had not expected my refusal.

“Rosalinda” he says, in that tone reserved for when he is displeased. “We have discussed this.”

The warning hangs there, sharp. Irritation too.

Mother stands behind him, her presence in the study a quiet comfort, like always. Isabella Stratford never raises her voice. She does not need to. Soft-spoken, but when she talks people listen.

“Rosa, mi calita” she begins with a slow sigh. “What really is the issue? You have been ready for this all your life. It is what you were raised for. Prepared for. And now you say you will not marry Alexander? This is a family legacy. It has to be honored.”

“I know, Mother” I say too quickly. “But we do not even know him. I do not know him. Should he not have visited at least once? How am I to marry a man when I have no idea what he looks like? Not even a picture. Do you not find it strange?”

I have tried searching for him over the internet. I found nothing. Not a mention of his name. Not a picture. It is like I am betrothed to a ghost.

I do not mention this. Father does not know that I have access to the internet. With the things I see online, I often wonder why my life is so restricted.

I do not have friends, except Betty, my maid. It is her phone I use for browsing. She has been with us since I turned twelve. Seven years now.

Seven years of her quietly showing me glimpses of the real world.

“Those details aren’t important” Father says, pulling me back. His voice controlled, as ever.

He stands abruptly, leaning forward, hands planted on the desk.

“Rosa, you have been raised to understand the responsibilities of being a Stratford first daughter,” he continues. “I fail to see what your objections are really about. Meeting Alexander beforehand? It is not part of the agreement. To safeguard your virtue. That is a requirement of the contract. This union is important to the family. It protects us. It always has.”

There it is again. My virtue, tossed around like a clause in some document.

The agreement demands I stay a virgin until he claims me. That was supposed to happen on my eighteenth birthday. I will be twenty in a month.

“Protection from what?” I ask. My voice trembles slightly, though irritation slips through despite my effort to hold it back.

Father says he does not understand where my temper comes from. Stratfords have always been calm, level-headed. The women in our family history were demure.

Though, to be fair, there have not been women in our family for generations. I am the first girl born in over a hundred years.

My birth was sort of this big event. A miracle, especially tied to this contract with the Matessons.

Mother steps forward then, resting a hand on Father’s shoulder, like she is calming him. He exhales deeply and goes on, still dodging my question.

“Everything we have is because the Matessons have watched over our family for generations,” he says. “While others lost land and wealth to wars and famine, ours stayed secure.”

I shift in my seat. Same old explanation I have heard forever. The Matessons are our benefactors. We owe them everything.

Or rather, the first daughters do.

That would be me. Not just the first, but the only female in ages. The obvious choice to fulfill it all.

I am not totally against arranged marriage, I think. But something here does not add up. It feels like I am missing pages in a story.

The man I am meant to marry does not seem to exist.

My brother Christopher, though, has never had restrictions. Eight years older, always free to do what he wants.

He is away now, on some business. I do not know what kind. Father says he handles family affairs. I do not even know what those are.

We are wealthy but all my life I have seen father more at home than having to leave for work. I do not know what business my family is engaged in.

Father says it is not for me to worry about.

That is how sheltered I have been.

My sole purpose in life, it seems, is to become the wife of Alexander Matesson.

Wife. That is putting it one way. I have heard other terms used that have made me wonder about the true nature of this contract.

I have overhead conversations.

Once I heard Christopher say to father that being Alexander's mate made me superior to them and also a ticking bomb. Nothing must go wrong.

I was just ten at the time, and Christopher had just turned eighteen. He was regarded as a man and spent a lot of time with father in his study.

This was before he started taking long trips away.

Over the years, I also came to realize something.

Father fears Alexander.

I overheard a conversation he had with mother.

“We cannot afford to offend the girl, Bella,” Father had said. At first, I had not known who he meant. Then he kept going. “When Chris turned fifteen and you said you had stopped your cycle, I was relieved. I thought we had escaped having a child to hand over. Then we found out you were already five months along. Doctors said evacuation was too risky.”

I had been stunned. My parents had not wanted me. Had even considered aborting me.

Mother’s voice came quieter. “We have no choice. You told me it is a covenant made with them and despite there being no females in your family for generations, they have kept to their end of the bargain. There seems to be no way out. Remember, they were all there during her naming. He will surely come for her.”

“I have never been so afraid,” Father had said. “Five of them with us. In that locked room.”

Even now, that twists my stomach.

Mother replied, “I was afraid too. But Rosa was calm when he looked at her. There was something in his face that night. I knew he would never harm her. That is what gives me solace in all of it.”

“He will come for her at eighteen,” Father said. “They do not take kindly to mistreatment of what they consider theirs. I love Rosa, but lately she has been… defiant. What if discipline looks like cruelty? What if she tells him we were harsh?”

I never heard Mother’s response. Christopher walked in right then.

That talk changed me.

On my twelfth birthday, I asked for a personal maid, insisted on choosing her. After some pushback, they agreed. I picked Betty.

Since then, I have been the picture of polite and proper. I live a pampered life. I get almost everything I ask for.

Betty helps with the rest.

“I understand, Father,” I say now, though honestly, I do not. “I just… hoped to have some say in who I spend my life with.”

Silence stretches. Thick. Uncomfortable.

“You do,” he says finally, glancing at Mother. “We sent word to Alexander that you wanted to wait until twenty-one. Original agreement was eighteen.”

But?

There is always a but.

“But?” I prompt.

Mother steps closer, brushing Father’s arm. “Colin. She needs to know.”

“The Matessons have sent word,” he says. “Alexander is returning.”