Page 117 of Come the Morning

“You are going to your mistress. With whom you shared numerous sins of the flesh,” she reminded him bitterly.

“You can still come.”

“But I must stay.”

“You must?”

“You know that. He could die! Please, you cannot forbid me—”

“No, I cannot, or will not, forbid you to stay, Mellyora. It’s your choice.”

She turned from him suddenly, alarmed by the tears that welled in her eyes, and slid down her cheeks. She was startled when she found him suddenly behind her, turning her into his arms. His fingers moved down the length of her hair, and he tilted her chin toward him.

“I am not in league with a contingent of Vikings against you!” she said passionately, and she was surprised when he smiled.

“I never said that you were.”

“But—oh, you did! You suggested—”

“I merely said that there might have been good reason for you to turn to your Viking kin for help. The man Ewan killed claimed that Daro was responsible. I’ve no proof of that, nor can I believe it so easily. Perhaps someone believes that I will be quick to accuse you, and Daro. And perhaps even wage war against Daro—and my own wife.”

She exhaled on a long breath, amazed. She trembled, relieved by his words, yet still angry that he had tested her so. Yet she knew that her words of affection for Ewan, spoken so passionately, had angered him. Not that there had been secrets between them. But because she had said what she had in front of others, and perhaps, even, because of the emotion in her voice when she had agreed to marriage with him—and all its terms.

And when it had seemed that there might even be happiness in that marriage.

“Don’t wage war against me!” she pleaded softly. “I have not betrayed you. I swear it.”

“Tell me, why would you no longer fight me?”

“I married you.”

“Aye?”

“I promised to love, honor, and obey.”

He laughed suddenly. “My dear, I don’t think you’re familiar with the meaning of the wordobey.”

“I agreed to the marriage,” she said softly.

“And …”

She swallowed hard. There was only so much she dared admit when it seemed that someone, somewhere, was working against her.

“I am resigned.”

“That’s all? Resigned?”

“I’m finding marriage to be … more than palatable.”

“I’ve made it to palatable, and now I must leave.”

He was speaking lightly, teasing her, but she was suddenly afraid, and miserable. “Yet, if there is any fear … shouldn’t you stay here? If the isle is in danger, can’t the English wait? If you were to go later—”

“I must go today.”

“If you could just wait … a few days. Time will tell quickly with Ewan. Perhaps, in very little time, I could come.”

“I don’t have time.”