Chapter 26

***Kenya.***

I heard what he said, I knew what he meant. He bought me expensive and sexy nighties. But I ignored them and chose to wear my pale blue, cotton pajamas, my hair twisted in a pair of boxer braids.

My red-rimmed eyes and wet nose, I looked pathetic.

"Why aren't you wearing one of the night dresses I got for you? And why aren't you in our bedroom?" Levi continued. I turned away, staring out the window.

"You have already forced me into marriage. You can't force anything more on me." I mumbled.

Before this marriage thing, there had been a fire. Desire between us. Now I only detested him. I couldn't even bear to look at him. Yet I couldn't deny the pull I felt for him. Subtle, yet strong. Wrecking me whole from within. A fire burning within me. There was silence, his breathing, soft behind me. I hoped he would just leave.

Then I heard footsteps, and before I could react, he stood before me.

"You sure are right." His tone, indifferent. "I can't force you more. But I can do this..." Swiftly, without a thought, Levi scooped me off the bed, cradling me in his arms. I yelped in protest, shock and ire, filling me, as I clutched him tight.

"Put me down, Levi! I am not your plaything that you would just..."

"You have two choices, wife." His stern voice cut through my words, his gaze, stern. "One, you either come with me, quietly and not make a scene before the staff. Or, you can yell all the way from here to Alaska, and I still have to carry you either way."

I panted furiously. Incensed. I wanted to speak, but something in his tone and gaze, clamped my jaws shut.

Silently, he walked us out of the room across the hall, all the way to the kitchen. Soon we entered the elaborate kitchen, lavishly decorated in modern appliances and décor of brown, black and silver themes. Echoing a delicate taste.

Walking around the large kitchen island, Levi gently put me on top of the smooth, black-marble-surfaced island.

"Tamar informed me that you refused dinner." Levi let out, opening the fridge to pull out some ingredients.

Tomatoes, some lettuce, a pack of mixed veggies and some already cooked chicken. He closed the fridge, grabbing an onion. Raising his eyes to me, he noticed that I was watching him, curiously. The anger in my eyes was replaced with mild intrigue. My eyes met his and I hastily averted them.

In no time there was chopping and boiling and I only silently watched. Not saying a word.

"I didn't know you could cook." I slipped out, after the silence grew uncomfortable.

In truth, I had wanted to walk away immediately he deposited me on top of the kitchen island. But somehow, I found myself slowly captivated by his knowledge of food items, that I unconsciously allowed myself to watch him to the end. And now I was utterly impressed that he could really cook. He had already gone half way with the sauce, which smelled divine, by the way. My stomach, rumbling. He infused some red wine into the blood-red tomato sauce. And there was some pasta boiling in the pot.

"We didn't always have servants for a decade, you know," His tone dripping with sarcasm. A boyish smile tugged the corners of his lips.

Our gazes held, tumbling my insides. Flustered, I tore my eyes from his and immediately snagged them on his exposed forearms. His burnished fair skin, manly and strong. The veins, bursting with life and I wondered what it would be like having them against my naked skin. I shook that thought away. Then my eyes caught sight of a tattoo inside his left forearm. An outstanding tattoo of an image of the Blessed Virgin standing over a pair of strikingly green eyes. They were like a lady's eyes. I leaned in closer to have a better look.

"Your tattoo, it's...extraordinary." I complimented, sincerely.

"Thank you," he said, absently. He drained the pasta and put the cooked chicken pieces and some spices in the stewing sauce, filled with vegetables.

After a long pause, whereby I already thought I had probably overstepped with my comment, he spoke.

"They are my mother's eyes." He turned off the stove and grabbed some plates. *I should have known that*, I thought inwardly.

Serving the food, neatly and efficiently, he continued. "We were all asked to put on some tattoos. Something...extraordinary." He said the last bit with some bitterness in his voice. I was puzzled at the tone. "And I chose this one." He continued, watching me with expressionless eyes as he placed two plates of food before me.

Though his eyes gave nothing away, I could detect a hidden emotion beneath. I studied his expression briefly, wanting to ask who the 'we' were. Instead, I picked up the fork from the food closest to me, getting some mouthwatering pasta. As the food came into my mouth, I closed my eyes and all my anxiety and indignation simply vanished for just that moment. The food, a burst of savory flavors, was completely delicious. And I was unable to do more than just eat, until my plate was cleaned.

When I ate it all, I looked up from sated eyes and found Levi watching me, in amusement. Growing embarrassed at how shamelessly I had just acted, I fished for something to say.

"You can have my plate." He smiled, cutting into my thoughts. Flustered, I shook my head.

"I can't eat another bite as much as I would have wanted to." I smiled. At the same time, burping. Levi chuckled, earning a smile from me.

Nodding his head in understanding, he dug into his own plate. Silently we sat down, each deep in thought.

Later, Levi carried me upstairs to our room.

Rather than protest, I surrendered to him. Clutching him tight, my eyes watching his handsome profile.