He sat slowly in the wooden chair nearest the hearth.
For such a powerful man, there was something strangely careful about the way he moved around furniture, as though he had spent his entire life trying not to bump into the world.
"My father brought me here when I was thirteen."
"You told me that."
"He died when I was twenty-three."
"And you've stayed alone since?"
"Mostly."
"Ten years?"
Caleb nodded.
"I trade twice a year. Sometimes more if weather allows."
"You never courted anyone?"
"No."
"Never?"
His face flushed.
It looked almost absurd on a man with a beard thick enough to hide half his expression.
"No."
Eleanor's eyes narrowed.
"Caleb."
He looked up.
"You are thirty-two years old."
"I know."
"You've never touched a woman?"
His face became even redder.
"Not that way."
A tiny, unexpected laugh escaped Eleanor.
She covered her mouth immediately.
Caleb looked toward her.
"Sorry."
"No."
He almost smiled.
"It's fair."
For one second, the room felt lighter.
Then his hand returned to his collar.
The fear came back.
Eleanor noticed.
"So that isn't what you're ashamed of."
"No."
"What is?"
His fingers found the first button.
"Something my father told me never to show anyone."
Eleanor felt the air change.
"Why?"
Caleb looked toward the window.
"Because the last person who saw it wanted to put me in a cage."
Eleanor stopped breathing.
Caleb opened the first button.
Then the second.
A pale scar appeared along the left side of his neck.
Eleanor had glimpsed part of it earlier when wind pulled his collar aside during the wagon ride.
She had assumed an animal attack.
Maybe a trapping accident.
Now she saw it continued beneath his shirt.
Caleb opened another button.
The scar widened.
Pale and thick.
Not one clean cut.
Many.
Some jagged.
Some smooth.
Like an old wound that had been opened repeatedly.
Eleanor took one involuntary step backward.
Caleb immediately stopped.
His face collapsed.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
She forced her feet still.
"You didn't do anything."
"I saw your face."
"I'm surprised."
"That's what people say before they leave."
The words carried nineteen years inside them.
Eleanor looked at him carefully.
"Finish."
He hesitated.
"You don't have to prove anything."
"I know."
"Then why?"
"Because I married you."
He swallowed.
"And because if you wake beside me someday and feel it move without understanding, that would be worse."
Eleanor's stomach tightened.
"Feel what move?"
Caleb's hand shook harder.
He pulled the shirt aside.
Firelight spread across his chest.
Eleanor forgot the storm.