Never Kiss?

What kind of life was it to have to be strong all the time even around your closest family?

At least, I had my sisters and my brother, and even to some extent my mother and people like my cousin. Women were forgiven weakness in our world.

But his eyes were hard.

Maybe this would be the moment he decided it really wasn't worth the risk and take me, but when his gaze finally settled back on my face the darkness was at bay.

"What about Fu Heng?"

"I trust him. But he is hot-headed. He'd get himself killed trying to defend me."

It was strange talking to him, to my husband like this, almost like we knew each other.

"Nobody will doubt me," I said.

"I'll give them what they want to see."

Fu Shao sat up and my eyes were drawn to the tattoo, then took in the muscles of his chest and stomach.

My cheeks heated when I met his gaze.

"You should be wearing more than this bad excuse for a nightgown when the harpies arrive. I don't want them to see your body, especially your hips and upper thighs. It's better when they wonder if I left marks on you," he said.

Then he smirked.

"But we can't hide your face from them."

He bent over me and his hand came toward my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, flinching.

"This is the second time you thought I was going to hit you," he said in a low voice.

My eyes flew open.

"I thought you said…" I trailed off.

"What? That everyone expects you to have bruises on your face after a night with me? I don't hit women."

I remembered when he'd stopped my father from slapping me. He'd never raised his hand against me. I knew many men in the W city had a strange code of rules they followed.

You couldn't stab a man in the back, but you could cut his throat that way for example. I wasn't sure what made one better than the other.

But Fu Shao seemed to have his own rules as well. Crushing someone's throat with your bare hands was acceptable, but hitting your wife was not.

"How am I supposed to believe you can convince everyone we've consummated our marriage when you keep flinching away from my touch?"

"Believe me, the flinching will make everyone believe the lie even more because I definitely wouldn't have stopped flinching away from your touch if you'd taken what's yours. The more I flinch the more they will take you for the devil that you want them to think you are."

He chuckled.

"I think you might know more about playing the game of power than I expected."

I shrugged.

"My father is head man."

He tilted his head in acknowledgement, then he brought his hand up and cupped my face.

"What I meant earlier was that your face doesn't look like you've been kissed."