“What is it you think I wanted?” There was a steel to his voice, and she turned from him, unable to look.
“You’re a man who should have children. I can’t give that to you.”
“It was only going to be a temporary marriage,” he told her. “An arrangement.”
His voice was cold, like the stone walls of the chamber. “I-I know,” she stammered. “I just thought that—you would expect me to act as your wife. In all ways.”
She lowered her forehead to the wall, feeling all the world like a fool. He was a man, the same as any other. When she’d thrown herself at him, he’d taken what she’d offered. And she was desperately afraid that he’d want her to share his bed, making love to her.
The thought of any man joining with her body made her feel nervous and sick. She hadn’t minded the way Trahern had touched her tonight, for he’d caressed her with words, as much as anything else. It had been so different from the violence she’d experienced.
But he would want more. She didn’t believe they could have a celibate marriage, not from the way he’d caressed her.
“I’m not an animal, Morren,” he told her. “Believe me. I can keep my hands off of you.”
Oh Heaven above, she’d offended him. It wasn’t at all what she’d intended.
Face him, she urged herself. She turned around and saw the irritation in his gray eyes, the palpable frustration. Her cheeks burned crimson, but she forced herself to speak. “I don’t think I could . . . lie there and let it happen again. Not with any man.”
His jaw tightened. “As I’ve said, when I offered you a marriage arrangement, I wasn’t intending to consummate it.”
He let out a breath. “But you should know that I would never ask you to lie there and endure my touch.” His eyes held an unnamed emotion as he softened his tone. “I promise you, you’d enjoy it.”
A shiver passed through her. When he’d touched her earlier, she’d felt liquid inside, before the sweet torment had sent a flood of release pulsing within.
She swallowed her fear back. “Perhaps. But you wouldn’t enjoy being with me, if we were to—“ Her voice broke off in humiliation. She couldn’t even speak the words.
There was not a doubt in her mind that she would freeze up or scream, the way she had with Adham. And she didn’t want her fears to damage their friendship.
Trahern took her hand in his. “I would enjoy every moment of it, Morren.” His thumb slid over her palm, but his words grew careful, his tone even. “But I’ll honor your wishes. We’ll finish the matter at Gall Tír, and then I’ll take you back to Glen Omrigh.”
Her heart seemed to grow brittle at his suggestion. She didn’t want to be brushed aside again. “That’s not what I want.” Her words came out as a whisper, and Trahern took his hand away. Resting it against the wall, he touched his forehead to hers.
“If you want something more—“ His mouth nipped at her ear lobe, his tongue swirling over the soft skin. Shivers poured through her, drenching down her breasts and between her thighs. She clung to him for balance, afraid her knees would buckle.
”—I’ll teach you whatever you want to learn.”
She found it hard to think clearly. Against her better judgment, he was coaxing a response she’d never anticipated. Her body was acting on its own needs, ignoring the common sense of her brain. She’d inadvertently pressed herself closer to him, needing the warmth of his embrace.
But it was still only an arrangement, Morren reminded herself. Not a true marriage. Even if he did somehow drive away the demons of her past, their paths weren’t meant to join together.
Closing her eyes, she pushed him back. “Take me back to the others,” she pleaded. “Let us enjoy the first night of Samhain among your family.”
Trahern stared at her for a moment, but he gave a nod that he’d heard her. Within minutes, he escorted her down the stairs and outside again. He put on the golden mask once more, and as soon as he did, she sensed the distance widening between them. Her own mask was crumbling apart, so she let it fall to the ground.
The atmosphere had changed during their absence, and it sent a wave of uncertainty through her. Masked men and women paired off, retiring to the shadows. Trahern’s hand rested upon her waist, and she caught a glimpse of Connor and Aileen slipping away together. The blond man looked upon his wife with the same expression of desire she’d seen in Trahern’s eyes, just moments ago. As if he would lift the world on his shoulders for her.
The fires burned brightly in the night sky, and around the huts, turnip lanterns rested at the doorways. Other men and women ate, drank, and laughed together. Morren spied one couple kissing amidst cheers, their hands bound together with three colored cords.
They must have handfasted, she realized. Bound together in marriage for a year and a day. If they did not suit as husband and wife, both could be free of each other after the trial period.
It was what Trahern had offered her—a temporary union. And though it wasn’t threatening in any way, it bothered her. He’d already admitted that after they faced the men of Gall Tír, he would end the marriage.
He didn’t even want to try, she realized. That’s what troubled her. He treated the suggested union as one easily discarded. Her frustration heightened, for what woman wanted a marriage like that?
And yet, she couldn’t deny the feelings she held for him in her heart. He made her feel safe, almost beloved. It bothered her to let him go.
In the firelight, Trahern’s mask gleamed, and though he attempted a smile when his brother Patrick greeted him, she saw the strain beneath it and a hint of guilt. Would he tell Patrick the truth of his birth, that they were not brothers? Or would it matter at all?
