"And don't ever do something as stupid as crawling through the roses," Sean added.

Catherine squared her shoulders and straightened her shirt, "I don't think it was stupid."

​​

"You don't think it was stupid to cut yourself up?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I think it made sense."

"It made sense to hurt yourself?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

"They're just scratches," she said with a shrug. "Besides, I believe in doing things for myself. I could have asked a gardener to go get the ring, but it wouldn't have meant the same thing."

His face paled, and he opened his mouth and then shut it again. She watched him carefully, trying to gauge his mood. He looked furious, but she couldn't understand why. He leaned toward her, his eyes flashing with anger.

"And what will people think when they see my wife covered in scratches, hmm?" he whispered.

She shoved her hands into his chest, and he staggered back a step in surprise. "What will people think?" she asked. "You're worried about your image? Maybe you should have thought about that before you did this."

She raised her hands and showed him the shiny, chafed skin on the backs of her hands. He winced and reached for her hands, and she jerked them away. Her fingers shook as she unknotted the silk scarf she had tied around her neck. The mud on her hands left brown streaks on the delicately patterned material, but she didn't care.

"What do you think people will think about these?" she asked, pointing at the fading bruises on her neck.

Before he could respond, she took off running toward the house. She knew he could catch her if he wanted to, and she waited to feel his powerful hands on her shoulders or arms, but they never came. She raced into the house, up the stairs, and locked herself in her bedroom.

Exhausted, burnt, and dripping with sweat, she sank onto the bedroom floor to wait for him. She knew it was only a matter of time before he started pounding at the door. The afternoon sunlight slanted golden through the windows, and she waited and waited, but he didn't come. Bored and uncomfortable in her dirty clothes, she stood and went into the bathroom.

The scalding shower water stung her skin, and she grimaced as she scrubbed. She stepped out of the shower and wiped the fog from the mirror. Her skin was pink but not terribly burnt, and the scratches on her arm didn't look too bad. The yellowish bruises on her neck were still visible, but they'd fade in a few days. Blotting the water from her hair, she went to the closet and dressed in a simple white sundress. A calm knock sounded across the bedroom.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's me," Sean said, his voice restrained and polite. "May I come in?"

She sighed and opened the door. He carried a small tray in his hands with two glass jars on top of it. The first jar was filled with a pale green gel, and the second held a clear liquid. A twist of fabric lay behind the jars.

"I brought you aloe for the sunburn," he said, pointing at the green gel. "And antiseptic for the scratches on your arms and hands."

"What about my neck?" she asked.

A pained expression crossed his face, "I brought you another scarf."

She nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to pass into the room. He placed the tray next to the bed, and she sat and opened the jar with the aloe. She dipped her fingers into the cool gel and rubbed a thin layer on her face and shoulders. She smiled with relief and reached for the antiseptic. Sean's long hand brushed hers away, and he grabbed the jar.

"Allow me," he said.

His long fingers slipped into the clear liquid, and he dropped to his knees before her. Using gentle strokes, he dabbed the liquid onto each cut and scratched it on her arms. His fingertips brushed her skin leaving behind a burning feeling stronger than the sting of antiseptic. Goosebumps pricked her arms, and she shivered. He finished her arms and began to work on her hands, touching her so gently, she barely felt it at all.

He finished her hands and reached for the silk scarf on the tray. He stood and wrapped the fabric loosely around her neck. The silk felt like liquid against her skin, and his breath was warm against her neck. She shivered again.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered.

"I thought it would be like penance," she answered.

"No," he said. "Why did you throw it in the first place?"

Her body stiffened, and she jerked away from him. His tender care had felt like an apology, but it clearly wasn't. She scowled at him and stood up. Suppose he wanted to rehash the same boring story over and over again, fine. But she was done apologizing.

"I've already told you," she snapped. "You know, you act so self-righteously, but I don't see you wearing your ring either."

He looked down at his bare ring finger but didn't say a word.

"You want me to be loyal to you, but marriage goes two ways," she said. "It's a commitment between two people. Two equals."

"I know," he said.

"Then where's your ring?" she asked.

He pressed his lips together, and for a moment, he looked slightly abashed.

"Oh my god," she said. "You threw it somewhere too? Didn't you?"

"I—" he began.

"You did," she said. "Where? Where did you throw it?"

His face darkened, and he stood, "I'll get it back."

He crossed the room and slammed the door behind him, and she paced the room, too angry to sit down.

***

Sean stalked down the long hallway and down the stairs into his study. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sank into his leather desk chair. Levi knocked on the door, and he shouted at the butler to enter.

"Yes, sir?" Levi asked.

"I want you to send a team of men into the pond to find something for me," he said.

"The pond, sir?" Levi asked.

"Yes, the pond," Sean snapped. "My wedding ring is somewhere in there. I want it back."

"Yes, sir, right away, sir," Levi said.

Sean leaned back in his chair and swirled the whiskey in his glass, listening to the familiar clink of the ice cubes. The sound usually relaxed him, but his heart still pounded in his chest. He took a long swallow of whiskey and closed his eyes.

Images of Catherine's slender, bruised neck flashed through his mind, and he shuddered and took another long sip. The whiskey coated his tongue and warmed his throat, and he sighed. He'd let his temper get the best of him, and he'd almost killed her. He couldn't let it happen again.

A knock sounded at the door, dragging him from his reverie, "What now?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Levi said. "I have a team of twenty men in there in full scuba gear, but they can't find it."

"Then drain it," he snapped.

"Drain the whole pond?" Levi asked, looking worried.

"You heard me," he said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Catherine's ring, holding it up to the late afternoon light. The five Karat diamond sparkled and gleamed, and he twisted it back and forth, so it cast light against the oak walls. It was a simple but elegant ring—he'd chosen it over much flashier options. He sighed and reached for the handkerchief in his pocket, carefully wiping each facet until the gem was completely clean.

***

Feeling claustrophobic in the warm room, Catherine went down the back stairs hoping to slip outside for an evening walk. She headed toward her favorite path toward the fishing pond at the back of the estate. The pond was enormous—it took almost twenty minutes to go all the way around, and she looked forward to having some time by herself to think.

As she walked, she noticed that the normally smooth path was trampled and muddy, and the loud sound of a truck's engine disturbed the bird song. She hurried under the trees and froze. The lush, grassy banks of the pond had been trampled into a muddy mess, and several large and loud trucks suctioned water. Gardeners wearing scuba suits and tall rubber boots swiped nets through the pond, capturing the squirming fish and dropping them into large metal tubs.

She ran forward, looking for someone she knew. At the far end of the pond, Levi held a clipboard, giving instructions to some of the workers. She jogged toward him, waving her hand to get his attention.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"Routine maintenance," Levi answered smoothly.

"You're destroying the pond for routine maintenance?" she asked.

"Don't worry," he said. "The pond will be fine. In a few days, it'll be like nothing ever happened."

"Excuse me, sir," shouted a worker. "The North end is drained, and we're ready to begin looking."

"Looking?" Catherine asked. "For what?"

"Nothing," Levi answered. "Listen, it's very dirty out here. You should probably go back to the house."

She smirked and nodded, "Okay, but tell Sean I hope he finds the ring."

"Who told you?" Levi asked.

Rolling her eyes, she turned away. She took the long way back to the house, wandering under trees and across grassy lawns as the sun slowly slipped below the horizon. Her head spun as she tried to make sense of it all. Did he really care about the ring that much? She shook her head. So what if he did? That didn't change anything.

Exhausted and determined, she returned to the house and went to bed. Late at night, she felt Sean slip into bed beside her, but she was too tired to care. When she woke in the morning, she was alone.

She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Something bright flashed in her eyes, and she blinked and lowered her hands. The diamond ring glittered on her left hand. She waved her hand back and forth, staring in surprise at the ring.

Finally, she climbed out of bed, dressed, and went downstairs. Sean sat at the dining room table, reading a newspaper and sipping tea. A platinum band gleamed on his ring finger.

"Good morning," he said, lowering the paper.

"I see you found your ring," she said lightly.

"It wasn't lost," he said.

"Oh, no?" she asked. "So I'm imagining a few algae on the band?"

He raised his hand to look at the ring, and she laughed.

"Who told you?" he asked.

"Lucky guess," she said.

"The ring looks good on you," he said.

She smiled, "Thanks. Though I'm a bit worried about wearing it out."

His face darkened immediately.