Tempted to draw his sword, he refrained from doing so at the last, lest it cause Laoghaire to act injudiciously. “At this moment your failings far exceed your virtues, lady wife. If you do not sheathe your blade, this will end very badly for you.”
The warning incited a rosy splotch of color to instantly bloom on Laoghaire’s cheeks. “Ye can rot! I fear nothing!”
Despite being infuriated with her show of belligerency, Galen was nonetheless put in mind of the ancient Queen of the Amazons, that fierce warrioress who fought so bravely against the Greeks.
“‘The ferocious Penthesilea, gold belt fastened beneath her exposed breasts, leads her battle-lines of Amazons with their crescent light shields,’” he quoted from memory, having always been strangely fascinated with the tale of doomed love between Achilles and the fabled warrioress.
Laoghaire’s brows drew together, the wench clearly bewildered. “Do ye mock me?”
“On the contrary,” he responded. “Although admittedly this marriage of ours is more akin to a joust than the holy sacrament it was intended to be.”
“Ye have no right to complain,” she huffed. “I am the one who was forced into marriage with the devil’s own.”
“I have every right to complain,” Galen was quick to inform her, thinking her indignation without merit. “We have been married for ten days and I have yet to plow you.”
“On our wedding night ’twas ye who refused to believe that I am a virgin. I was a virgin then. I am a virgin now.”
Suddenly intuitingthatwas the underlying reason why she drew a dagger on him, Galen could not help but scoff. “A virgin without a maidenhead? ’Tis like a stallion without bullock stones.”
Glaring at him, Laoghaire made no reply. None was necessary, her silence eloquent enough.
“Perhaps the fact that ye refused to consummate our wedding vows is a blessing in disguise,” she said at last.
Not only did she speak in a surprisingly calm tone of voice, but Laoghaire’s words bespoke a cunning intent, Galen wondering if he wasn’t being led into a snare.
“You have a strange notion of what constitutes a blessing,” he remarked.
“By that I mean there are no encumbrances to prevent us from having our marriage annulled.”
At hearing his wife’s surprising explanation, Galen’s jaw slackened.
Hell and the devil!So thatwas the wench’s intention was it, to ask the pope to annul the same marriage that the king commanded?
Outraged, Galen strove mightily to keep his fury in check.
“In addition to our vows remaining unconsummated, neither of us consented to the marriage, as it was forced upon us both,” Laoghaire argued, the woman more tenacious than a wolfhound chasing a scent. “The fact that we were yoked together against our wills is yet another valid reason for us to sever our bonds.”
Unable to gainsay her argument, Galen made no comment. In truth, the only reason he consented to the marriage was to further his political ambitions. Had he refused to wed her, his willfulness would have undoubtedly proved a grave detriment to his future standing in the king’s court.And so I put aside the woman I originally planned to marry.Whether that was a mistake was of no consequence, the die already cast.
Long moments passed, the ensuing silence so tense, so palpable, it seemed to vibrate in the very air around them.
Pushing out a resigned sigh, Galen said finally, “My preference has no bearing in this matter. I do the king’s bidding.”
“Would you not prefer to be with Melisande?”
The retort—made in a soft, tempting tone of voice—took Galen by surprise.
“What do you know of that?” he demanded, a little too roughly.
Her air noticeably blasé, Laoghaire shrugged and said, “One castle is like any other, gossip traveling as freely as the wind blowing across a treeless valley. Besides, ’tis no secret. Even the lowliest of villeins knows that ye were betrothed to Melisande Jardin.”
While Laoghaire spoke verily, Galen nevertheless took a chastising tone with her. “You would be wise not to concern yourself with idle gossip. Indeed, your time would be better spent seeing to my needs.”
“Am I not doing that by offering ye an opportunity to wed a woman of uncommon beauty, one who will make ye a far better wife? Unlike Melisande, I can neither embroider nor play the harp,” Laoghaire added, dangling what she obviously deemed an irresistible enticement.
Thinking she knew little about the nature of men, Galen said, “What need do I have for a wife who can make tapestries? You will bear me strong sons. Of that I am certain,” he muttered under his breath, confident that if his sons turned out anything like the mother, they would be without peer on the field of battle. “Our union is not a pagan handfast whereby either spouse can dissolve the bond if the mood strikes. We were wed by a priest. Marriage is a sacrament that—”
“Must be consummated,” Laoghaire insisted, refusing to surrender the point. “Until such time, the marriage is not valid and can therefore be annulled.”
