My God, he was huge. A meter ninety of muscles and curved curves, the shoulders barely touching his body, the hands marked by forge burns that seemed capable of breaking the stone. His face was worn, bearded, and his eyes scanned the room, never resting on me. He stood with his head slightly bowed, his hands clasped together, the posture of a slave in a white man's house.
This brute was a fitting nickname. He looked like he could tear down the house with his bare hands. But then my father spoke.
"Josiah, this is my daughter, Elellaner."
Josiah's eyes landed on me for half a second, then returned to the ground. "Yes, sir." His voice was surprisingly soft, deep, but tender, almost tender.
"Ellaner, I explained the situation to Josiah. He understood that he would be responsible for your care. »
I managed to speak, even though I was shaking. "Josiah, do you understand what my father is proposing to me?"
Another quick look at me. "Yes, mademoiselle. I will be your husband, I will protect you, I will help you. »
