Page 72 of Come the Morning

“You don’t want the wine?”

“Aye, I want the wine!”

He poured it and indicated the furs on the floor by the fire. “Sit, join me.”

She didn’t sit. She took the chalice from him and swallowed the whole of it before sinking down to sit and stare at him blankly still.

“More?” he inquired. “You do have a great deal of pride to swallow.”

“You are being detestable.”

“Not at all. I’m trying to help,” he said, refilling her chalice.

She accepted the second serving of wine, swallowed quickly. She closed her eyes, and said, “I’ll do this thing.”

“Oh? What thing?”

“Oh, what thing!” she repeated bitterly. “Marriage.” She sipped more wine, staring into the fire. “You must understand, I had other plans. It is my homeland. I know it, I love it. You are a usurper.”

“I am a warrior,” he said huskily. “Such a land needs a warrior.”

“There are other warriors,” she murmured. Then she forced her eyes to his and made a great effort to be civil. “Perhaps we can learn to be civil to one another. The fortress is a very big place. We can fulfill the king’s wishes, and keep our own souls. You’ll have your chambers, I’ll have mine. It can work, we can do it.”

He watched her incredulously. He stood, placing his chalice on the rough stone mantel. He turned and looked at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “No.”

She stood, wobbling a little as she rose, staring back at him. “What do you mean, no?”

“No. I’ll not have such a marriage.”

“But …” She let her voice trail; then she inhaled deeply. “You have a mistress, a woman whom you love.”

“Aye, and thanks to your refusal, I could marry her if I choose.”

“The people would despise you.”

“Ah, but I am a patient and reasonable man. In time, they would not.Now, you, my lady, you had other plans so you say. Have you taken a lover?”

Her cheeks flushed to a rose color and her lashes fluttered and fell.

“You know that there is someone else I wanted.”

“Well, then, have him.”

Her lashes rose, her eyes met his. “You say that you are a reasonable man. You have been clever. You’ve delighted Anne and Daro, and my uncle now believes that you are the right man to be laird of my property. Fine. We need only stay out of one another’s way—”

“No, Mellyora. It will not be that way. If you want this young man, have him, but you’ll not have me as well.”

“But—but,” she stuttered, “you said—”

“I said no. First, milady, I told you that you must ask me—and nicely—to wed you. You’ve not made any real requests—you’ve certainly not been nice—and you’ve attempted to dictate what you’ll have.”

“I’ve been reasonable under the circumstances—” she protested.

He shook his head, both amused and determined. “The circumstances are that you’re at my mercy. An interesting position after all the trouble you’ve caused. So ask me nicely. And I’ll consider your request.”

Pale as ash now, she stared at him, speech refusing to flow from her. She spun around ready to exit the cottage, but he caught her arm and dragged her back, amazed himself at the savage determination that suddenly filled him. She was not going to best him. He would not allow her to complicate his life. “Humility, my love, is an excellent quality. A touch of it will do you very well.”

She cast her head back, hating him with her eyes.