She was forced to watch with barely hidden disgust, as Tobin tucked into a hearty breakfast tray. He wolfed the food down and praised the roast goose especially, before insisting on another large helping.
Celia stood at the far end of the room, already dressed in a clean riding habit and chewing on a piece of bread without tasting it. Her rage burned like glowing coals at the base of her belly.
Not rage, she had to admit. It was hot, angry hatred. It prickled like thorns under her skin everytime she looked at the greedy lump on the bed, eating without a care in the world.
Why now, she asked herself? Why the hate now?
He has been cruel and self centred since our wedding day. He treats people poorly and only ever thinks about how things affect him. He's an uninterested father. I know all this.
So what is it about yesterday specifically that makes me want to wrap my fingers around his fat neck?
