That wasn’t her only complaint about Edmund. At the annual harvest festival the previous year, he’d grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the shadows of the churchyard. He’d stroked her face, then grabbed her chin when she tried to pull away. He’d kissed her then, forcing her lips apart with his tongue, and when she resisted, he slapped her across the face. “You’ll be more obedient when you’re my wife,” he’d snarled, before turning and stalking away.
Wait, what? Yeah. Don’t marry him.
