Bluebeard Read Free Page B

was breathless and panting. But she wasn’t sure it was from exertion. She couldn’t help remembering the time her husband had come swimming with her—soon after she’d been caught by the cameras, actually, as if he’d suddenly grown curious about her time in the pool—his dark hair wet and curling at the nape of his neck, droplets glistening in his beard as he sat next to her and shook his head like a dog, spraying her with water. His shoulders were so wide, his arms thick and muscled. He was twenty years her senior, but the only sign of that was the graying of his hair at the temples.
     
    She had seen his look of lust that day, unmistakable. Every time she got near him, she heard his breath quicken, just like her own pulse. It was torture, being so wet and slick, having so few clothes on, and not touching him. It was always torture not touching him!
     
    Petra grabbed a fluffy towel out of her bathroom, racing out of her bedroom and down the hall. There was only one thing that could cool her thoughts. When she got to the pool—Mrs. Ribya had unlocked it for her—she dove in headfirst, losing herself immediately, her body light, buoyant. She began doing laps, taking long, even strokes. It was like meditation. She could do it all day.
     
    It didn’t take her mind off Blue—but it did calm her.
     
    She only stopped when she heard Milyi scratching on the door—he had finished his breakfast and found her. He didn’t like to swim, but he curled up comfortably to watch, keeping her company when she came out and dried off, dog and mistress falling asleep together on one of the lounge chairs.
     
    Mrs. Ribya woke her with lunch—a baked tomato with hazelnut breadcrumbs, pickled baby squash, and fresh cantaloupe—which Petra ate at one of the bistro tables, ravenous, her appetite returned. She convinced Mrs. Ribya to stay and keep her company a while as she ate, both of them tossing a ball for Milyi to chase, although he version of “fetch” was to run away with the ball so you could fetch it from him!
     
    “You miss him, yes?” the older woman asked.
     
    Petra nodded, knowing she meant Blue, trying to let the sweetness of the melon brighten her mood. “I miss him even when he’s here.”
     
    Mrs. Ribya started to gather empty dishes onto the empty tray. “Maybe that will change for you both soon.”
     
    The older woman just smiled and shrugged when Petra asked her what she meant, taking the dishes back to the kitchen. Petra made her way back to her room to shower and change. By then, it was four o’clock. What could she do with the rest of her day without Blue?
     
    She curled up on her bed, feeling sorry for herself, Milyi nestled against her belly, snoring happily. Of course, she had no right to complain. Yes, life with Blue had been a whirlwind, from courtship to marriage to life in this mansion, but it was a far cry from what she had been living in Minsk, working as a young secretary.
     
    She’d been orphaned at the age of three, her parents both victims of a factory fire, and spent the next fifteen years dreaming of life in America. It wasn’t until she was out in the world, away from the orphanage and working for a living, that her dream had been made reality when her friend, Sophia, had told her about being a mail-order bride.
     
    Yes, there were horror stories of girls being sold into slavery, of women killed in their sleep by their husbands in America. There were also love stories—arranged marriages that lasted decades, lifetimes, filled with laughter and children and joy. The men in Minsk were scarce. Women outnumbered them considerably. It was much easier to find a husband this way, Sophia said.
     
    Of course, she had never expected to find Blue.
     
    He was handsome and charming, if restrained and a little quiet. He’d convinced her completely that her life with him would be a dream, and it had turned out to be true.
     
    So why wasn’t she happy?
     
    He’d answered her numerous