I couldn't understand any of the reasoning behind the actions of the hero (anti-hero).
No, please tell me, how, or what could've justified him kidnaping her, repeatedly raping her and then flogging her because she reasonably didn't obey his orders. Mind you, she is to be his wife and he says he loves her! What? From what I've observed he dosn't enjoy hurting women and then again he does that. I actually think he acts a little like a psychopath. Like he's oblivious of other peoples feelings and can't discern right from wrong? Well that's how he acted. I refuse to read on and be subjected to this kind of torture. I've read really depriving books before, but they all had at least some reasonable background. Hell, tell me he's a psychopath then I'll really love to see how it ends, but to make them think and try to make me think they're all sane? Hell, NO!
I've read, well 15 % of this book and I see no future for them. I feel nothing but pure hatered for the hero, and I'm repulsed. Some authors just make you love the (hero) villain, okey? He can sew his skin to that of the heroine and you'll just love to hate him. But here, I just, you know, it was blah!
Okey, I may just give it a second chance lets see....
"I have never been drunk before, you know,” she said aloud, trying to focus her eyes upon his face. “Nor,” she added thoughtfully, “have I ever been beaten before.”
“I did not want to thrash you, but you gave me no choice.”
Her hazy thoughts wove themselves together as his gently spoken words penetrated her mind. “No, there was no choice. You did what was just.”
At this words all I wanna do is curl into myself and cry untill my tears run dry, how can they say they didn't have choice? There's always a choice (especially in a book), and to make her feel like there wasn't was so painfull to read...
You did what was just.” She sighed and whispered, her words so slurred that he could barely make them out, “But there have been other things you have done to me, things you have made me feel that I did not wish. There was choice there, I think.”
Before he could decide how to respond to her, she said, “Your laudanum and French burgundy have worked. I do not hurt now.”
What kind of a man is he? Am I supposed to like him? Hate him? No, I despise him! At this point I'll acept her marry his valet over him.
"Ah, here it is,” he said, grinning at her. “It is fortunate that I thought to add this dowdy garment to your wardrobe, is it not?”
“It is obvious that you had in mind all along to beat me.”
“Oh no,” he said cheerfully. “Indeed, I can think of fewer things less pleasurable than beating you. But it is a question of control, is it not, Cassandra? I think we have both learned a lesson.”
How can someone be cheerfull over the fact that his loved one was beaten and is still hurting because of him?
"You are so different from me, so exquisite,” she whispered, scarcely aware that she spoke her thoughts aloud.
He laughed, a rich sound from deep in his throat. “All of me or just part of me, cara?”
“All of you.”
“Ah, we make progress.” He sat down beside her and laid one large hand lightly on her thigh. If only, he thought, gazing at her soft, parted lips, he could make her tell him that she loved him. But it was too soon, much too soon, and he knew that it was the passion he awakened in her that drugged her mind.
So, make her tell him that she loved him? Because of what?
I can't, okey? I gave it another chance but I couldn't read more than a couple of pages more.
Ridiculous!