“But you did do as you pleased, did you not?” she heard herself accusing him.
He was mildly nonplussed. “I most certainly did not. Had I done so, you would not be up and about at this hour, mademoiselle, for you would be unable to leave our bed.”
She went red. For just an instant she imagined him taking her so completely, so thoroughly, that she would have to rest abed all day. Then she recalled that today there was a maid somewhere about Alnwick in just those circumstances. She was so livid, words escaped her.
“Soon,” he said softly, “after we are wed, neither one of us will suffer from restless nights again.”
“You are a hypocrite,” Mary cried, unable to restrain herself and throwing all caution aside.
His expression lost some of its softness. “Indeed?”
“Indeed!” She saw that he was growing angry but did not care. “I came downstairs last night just before matins.” She stopped. His anger was gone—he was smiling, pleased.
“So you came looking for me,” he said, taking her hands in his.
Mary tried to pull them free and failed. “Not for the reason you are thinking!”
He was amused and skeptical. “Come,chère,do not tell me that you sought me out at the midnight hour in order to converse?”
It sounded ludicrous. Mary flushed again. “I did!”
Suddenly his smile vanished. “Ahh. now I begin to understand where you have been leading.”
Again Mary tried to pull her palms free of his, but it was hopeless.
“You are indeed angry this mom, Mary,” he said, whisper-soft. “You came looking for me, but I was nowhere to be seen.”
Mary no longer struggled. Her small bosom heaved. “And we both know why, so do not deny it!”
He stared. “I do not deny it. But what would you have me do? My body was hot and hard—for you.”
“Please!” Again she tried to struggle free; again it was futile. His words drummed up vivid images of him, fully aroused, that she did not wish to entertain. “I am sure you did not spare me a single thought while you spent yourself on your winsome friend!”
“She was barely winsome, and if you must know, I thought of nothing but you—even while I spent myself on her.”
Mary was frozen. He was a sorcerer. Because as angry, hurt, and jealous as she was, she was also warm, too warm, her pulse pounding insistently, disturbingly. How could he do this to her under these circumstances? “I was but upstairs,” she finally said, and she heard how wounded she sounded.
His eyes widened. “Mademoiselle, you are to be my wife. ’Tis out of the question that I would use you as I would my leman.”
Mary almost gaped.
His voice was low, firm, even urgent. “Do you not think I considered it? Do you really think some overripe villein can compare to one such as you? Do you know how many times I almost went up those stairs in spite of myself? But my will is stronger than that.” Suddenly he released her hands to cup her face. Mary was incapable of movement. “I was discreet. Every single man in this hall was asleep. I did not intend you to know. Still, I am glad you are jealous.”
She opened her mouth, to deny it, but not a single sound came out.
His expression was harsh. “You ask the impossible, mademoiselle, but I will do as you ask.”
She blinked. She was feeling very warm and very dazed. “Wh-What is that?” Her whisper was a croak.
“I will deny myself until our wedding night, as it upsets you so.”
Mary reeled. He caught her, and she was in his arms. “Did you understand what I just said?” he suddenly demanded. Mary was hardly shocked to realize that he was impassioned, too. She put her hands on his chest, but whether to push him away or cling, she did not know. As it turned out, she gripped him. “Y-Yes, I-I understand.”
His expression was almost savage. “Are you pleased?”
Mary stared, still stunned by the swift pace and unbelievable conclusion of their dialogue. She began to nod.
“Good! I would have you pleased—always, by me.” Abruptly he lowered his head, his mouth taking hers.
