The Itch for Something Wild Chapter 1

Three years into my marriage with the woman I’d once moved heaven and earth for, a suffocating boredom had settled over my life.

The thought of spending the rest of my days with just one person made my skin crawl. It was an itch I desperately needed to scratch.

Just as I was plotting how to find a little excitement behind my wife’s back, my younger brother, Leo, appeared with a royal decree in his hands.

“Brother,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, “His Majesty needs an envoy in the southern province of Veridia. The floods have caused chaos, and someone needs to restore order.”

A spark ignited within me. This was my chance. But then, a familiar worry crept in. My wife, Eleanor, would never let me go alone. She’d insist on following, smothering me with her devotion.

Leo, seeing the hesitation in my eyes, offered a reassuring, almost sycophantic, smile. “You go and make your mark, brother. I’ll stay behind and take care of everything… including Eleanor.”

…

The moment the words left his lips, we heard footsteps approaching the study. They were light, delicate, punctuated by the soft clinking of silver charms on a belt.

I didn’t need to guess. It was my wife.

As expected, she entered without knocking, clad in a sea-green gown and carrying a small bowl. It was her honey-lotus pudding. Her eyes met mine, and she graced me with that gentle, placid smile of hers.

“You’ve been working so hard, my love,” she murmured. “I made this for you. Please, try it.”

Then, as if just noticing my brother, she feigned a look of surprise. “Oh, Leo! I didn’t realize you were here. I only made one bowl. What a pity.”

Every gesture, every word, was exactly as I’d predicted. There were no surprises with Eleanor anymore. No thrill. It was utterly, painfully dull.

Looking at her, the last vestiges of guilt I felt for wanting to stray simply evaporated. This life was a cage, and surely, my loving wife wouldn’t want me to wither away in it, would she?

“Your cooking is divine, Eleanor,” Leo sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame I’m not blessed enough to enjoy it.”

His voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at him, his eyes fixed on the pudding with an almost pathetic longing. I couldn’t fathom why he’d use a word like “blessed” for a simple dessert.

Eleanor, despite being the daughter of a Marquis, had none of the ambition or grace of her station. She was content to potter around in our estate’s kitchens, experimenting with sweets. I’ll admit, they were delicious. If she’d only been willing to apply that talent to my businesses, she could have been of some real use. But she only wanted to create, never to profit, presenting me with her concoctions day after day, asking for my opinion until even the most exquisite flavors turned to ash in my mouth.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed the bowl across the desk to Leo. “Here, you have it. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you’re cursed without it.”

Leo’s eyes widened. “Brother, I couldn’t. This is from Eleanor… a token of her love for you.”

God, I hated it when these military types tried to sound like poets. He was practically drooling, yet he still had to put on this noble act. Such a hypocrite.

“I’ve had too many sweets today,” I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t want it.”

As I said it, I saw something flicker across Eleanor’s usually serene face: pure, unadulterated shock. It was as if I’d struck her. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, welled with tears.

Without a single word, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room. Not a bow, not a curtsy. Not an ounce of decorum.

I frowned, a sharp rebuke on the tip of my tongue. But with Leo still here, I held it back, rubbing my temples in frustration. My affection had spoiled her, it seemed. It had made her bold enough to show me such disrespect.

My mind drifted back to the day I had knelt for hours outside her family’s manor, proclaiming my undying love in front of a crowd of nobles, swearing an oath of fidelity—one man, one woman, for all time.

If I had known then how painfully predictable she would become, I would never have made such a foolish vow. Now, if I so much as exchanged a pleasant word with another woman, rumors would fly, and some court sycophant would be reporting my “infidelity” to the King.

“Brother, is she angry?” Leo’s voice was laced with feigned concern. “Was it my fault? I shouldn’t have been so greedy.”

His apology only fueled my irritation. It was just a damn bowl of pudding, and she was throwing a tantrum. How could a woman so petty ever be fit to be the Duchess of my estate?