The vehemence with which she made that final assertion enraged him, Galen able to feel the muscles in his jaw tighten painfully. “You dare to tell me what I can or cannot do in my own bed?”
“Aye, I do,” Laoghaire informed him, her former defiance having returned with a fulsome vigor. “There is nothing written in any wedding contract or king’s decree that states I have to endure yer unwanted kisses.”
Fueled by a fierce desire to assert his dominance over his wayward wife, Galen wrapped an imprisoning arm around Laoghaire’s shoulders and forcefully yanked her toward him, so close he could feel her warm breath sputtering across his face. He then pressed his mouth to her ear and through gritted teeth said, “Youwillsubmit to my every desire. And if I desire to kiss your lips or your nipples or the wet slit between your hips, you will receive me with open arms and open legs.”
The ultimatum issued, Galen released his hold on her. Given Laoghaire’s horrorstruck expression, he surmised that he’d done himself few favors with his crude choice of words.
“Coira was wrong,” Laoghaire whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Our destinies are not entwined, and there is no vein that runs from my ring finger to my heart.”
“What in the name of all that’s holy does thatmean?” he demanded to know, unable to make sense of her gibberish.
“That I would have to tell ye speaks volumes.”
“God help me, but I should have defied the king and wed Melisande.Shewould not have spurned my kisses,” he added. Still reeling from Laoghaire’s earlier insults, his words were born of a desire to inflict as much pain as possible.
“If ye wish to live a happy life, agree to the annulment,” was all that Laoghaire said before she rose from the table and took her leave.
As Galen watched his countess march through the throngs of merrymakers scattered about the great hall, he immediately regretted his heated remarks, ire having gotten the better of him. That he’d lost control irked him immensely. And though he told himself that he’d been provoked, it seemed a weak excuse for losing his temper with her.
No sooner had Laoghaire departed the great hall than Galen noticed a purple jewel glittering in the candlelight beside his wife’s plate. When he reached for it, he was astounded to see that she had deposited her wedding ring on the table.
No accident in that, I’ll warrant.
Pushing out a deep breath, Galen palmed the ring, Laoghaire having left him a powerful message.
“You may want an annulment, lady wife, but I am not so easy to get rid of,” Galen muttered under his breath as he stormed down the corridor, amethyst ring in hand.
Three days from now, his mouth will have kissed and tasted every part of Laoghaire’s body. Likewise, she will have become intimately acquainted with his body. Once that happened, there would be no more talk of dissolving the vows that they’d taken before a priest; the sacrament of marriage will have been permanently sealed.
But until then, he suspected he would have a fight on his hands, his Highland bride like a wild mare that refused to be subdued.
Having been informed that Laoghaire went to the battlements, Galen yanked open the door leading to a circular staircase that wound its way to the roof of the castle.
Moments later, standing undetected in the shadows at the top of the stairs, he could see his wife seated at the far end of the parapet. Wrapped in a plaid cloak, with her knees tucked under her chin, Laoghaire’s gaze was directed heavenward.
Galen stood motionless, stunned; not by what he saw, but what he heard, Laoghaire singing aloud in a voice that was at once sweet and melodious. While his lady wife might not be able to embroider or play the harp, there was no question that she rivaled the fairest of songbirds.
As I sit on the hillside
Without joy or gladness,
Never more shall I raise a blithe song
After the Friday of my woe.
Friday came the wind
And stirred itself to rage and fury;
To the bottom of the glen,
To the rough peaks of the misty isle.
Continuing to listen to the haunting tune, Galen tightly clutched the amethyst ring. But even as he marveled at Laoghaire’s lovely voice, the maudlin lyrics made him suddenly realize that he didn’t want his lady wife morose and crestfallen. Nor did he want her continually sulking about the castle, decrying him and everything that crossed her path. Yes, he wanted Laoghaire’s obedience, but he also wanted to lay claim to her passion.
To do that I must tame Laoghaire as I would tame a wild mare,he belatedly realized, well aware that all of his rough wooing had gotten him nowhere with his Highland bride.
Instead, exercising a firm but gentle hand, he would arouse his wife’s ardor. And the most expedient way to do that was to exploit the rules of courtly love. Granted, he’d never had an interest or even a use forfin’ amour, as it was called. He was a warrior, not some green knight besotted with his ladylove. Not for an instant did he believe the minstrels’ tripe about courtly romance. Marriage was a legal union that had more to do with property and propagating one’s bloodline than it did with love. Be that as it may, he was fully prepared to play the part of the chivalrous knight.
