"Stay with me. Please."
Without a word, he toed off his shoes and slid in next to her. When she crawled into his arms, he simply held her and stared at the wall, expression bleak.
"I want our babies."
"I'm sorry." He brushed back tendrils of hair from her forehead. She had taken out the braids just two weeks ago and decided to give her hair a rest.
The first time he saw her without the braids, he had been stunned by how beautifully full and long her natural hair was. And had begged her not to do braids again.
She had dryly told him that it takes a hell of a lot of effort to deal with her 'kinky' hair. "I'm not a white woman who can just simply run a brush through her hair and be done with it. This takes a lot of work."
He had then called in a link to one of the 'wives'. She now had her own personal hairdresser.
"Hungry?"
The very thought of food sent the tremors running through her.
"Not now."
"Perhaps some broth."
"No. I need to settle my stomach first. Just stay here and hold me. Tell me a story."
"You're the story teller," he reminded her with a smile.
"One of your Irish folk lores. Anything to get my mind off what's going on inside my body."
His strokes turned slow and soothing, lulling her.
"It's a story of a damsel who found herself falling in love with the wrong mate."
"Let me guess. Rich gal, poor guy."
He chuckled. "I'm the one telling the story, remember. Anyway, this beautiful damsel..."
"Why the hell is she called a damsel? Makes her sound vulnerable and weak."
Tucking his fingers under her chin, he lifted her face and planted a rough kiss on her lips.
"Kiara?"
"What?"
"Shut up." He shook his head when she opened her mouth. "This damsel..." He grinned at her narrowed eyes.
"Let's call her Irene. Now Irene was betrothed to a fine and upstanding gentleman, a betrothal arranged by both sides of the family and had been that way since they were babies in the cots. A mutual agreement, you see, one that would bind the two families together to form a power source, as the gentry tends to do in that era."
"It was all arranged. As soon as Irene was old enough, she would be married. Her parents were indulgent enough to wait until she reached her eighteenth birthday."
He tucked her securely against his chest and continued stroking her back. "Irene did not mind. Alphonso was a comely lad with thick blonde hair and striking green eyes and very comely of body. Then she met Gregor."
"Gregor?" Her voice was skeptical.
"Shh. Gregor was a soldier and back from the war. Tall and strapping, with thick dark hair and laser blue eyes and a devilish smile, he caught the attention of the beautiful Irene on her way from the village."
"It was love at first sight." Pausing at her snort of disbelief, he merely dug his fingers into the small of her back and continued.
"They started seeing each other in secret. He wanted her to tell her parents that she had changed her mind about marrying the other bloke, that she wanted to marry him. She knew they would not approve."
