“Do not say it,” he warned.
“What?” she asked innocently.
His frown was not the least bit intimidating. “As we have dealt with your theft and your escape, would you now like to discuss your audacity?”
Rowena rolled her eyes, wishing he had not so fine a memory. “I would as soon that discussion be saved for some future time—somefarfuture time. But there is another thing…”
Now that she had reached the point of asking, she was losing her nerve. His mood was mellow, despite the unpleasantness of dealing with his daughter. She hated to change that, to see again the cruel visage that bespoke his darkest rages. But she had to know if his new attitude toward her ran deeper than what she saw on the surface.
Finally she just blurted it out. “Do you still mean to take my child from me, Warrick?”
What she was afraid of happened—the cruel mask coming so quickly to the fore, the slant of his mouth, the narrowing of his eyes, and the icy menace in his tone. “What would make you think I no longer want it?”
“I—I did not think that—only—”
“So you would raise it as a serf?”
“I am not a serf!” she snapped. “I do have properties in my own right.”
“You have no rights other than those I give you,” he growled.
“What will you do with the babe?” she demanded. “Who will see to it whilst you are off fighting your damn wars? Another serf? Your wife?”
He did not seem to note the sneering tone she ended with. “Do you give me a son, I will see to him myself. I want a son. A daughter?” He shrugged. “Bastard daughters have their uses, I have only just learned.”
She was so angry over that answer she could have screamed. But losing her temper, as she had just done, was not how to reason with a man, particularly this one.
So she schooled her features to express mere annoyance, and dropped her tone to a moderate level to ask, “What of nurturing and love and proper guidance?”
He cocked a brow. “Think you I am incapable of supplying those things?”
“Aye. Beatrix is a fine example.”
That was a harsh blow, and one that struck true. His expression changed to that of a man in deepest pain.
Incredibly, Rowena felt it, too, a tightening in her chest that hurt for him and sent her from her chair to his. “I am sorry!” she cried as she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed in measure to her regret. “I did not mean that, I swear I did not! ’Tis not your fault that the land is run so rife with lawlessness that you must be forever gone to protect what is yours, instead of at home with your family. That damn Stephen is to blame for that. Because of him, my own father took off to fight again and again, and you can see how unruly that has made me, even though I had my mother to guide me.Youcan only be faulted for not frightening me anymore, so that my cursed tongue now runs away with—”
“Be…quiet.”
He was shaking, and his arms were squeezing her. She tried to lean back to see his face, but he was holding her too tight. He was also making the most awful noise.
“Warrick?” she asked with dread. “You—you are not crying, are you?”
He shook harder. Rowena’s brows narrowed suspiciously. His head finally came up off her shoulder, but one look at her and his silent laughter turned to loud guffaws. Rowena screeched in exasperation and hit his chest. He clasped her face in both hands and kissed her, only he was still chuckling, so ’twas a ticklish kiss—at least at first. But she was annoyed enough at him for such a rotten trick that she slid her hands up into his hair and pressed her breasts tight into his chest. Andthattook care of his amusement. After a few moments, it took care of her annoyance, too.
They were both out of breath when they separated. Rowena was too comfortable to move, though she had not been invited to his lap and ought to make some effort to get up. He settled the matter by pressing her cheek to his chest and holding it there, whilst his other hand caressed her hip.
“You are so silly, wench. You cannot even have a good argument, because you worry too much that you will hurt your opponent’s feelings.”
They were not alone in the hall, but for the most part, they were being ignored. Rowena did not particularly care either way, and that surprised her. Just a few nights ago, she had been mortified to be held like this in front of everyone. And just a few nights ago, Warrick would not have said something like that to her.
She grinned to herself. “Most women do happen to be burdened with compassion. Are you scolding me for being womanly, Warrick?”
He grunted. “I merely point out there is a time to be merciless and a time to be—womanly. Just now, however, I like you womanly.”
She stretched, sensually, rubbing her body more closely into his. He sucked in his breath.
“Was that womanly enough for you?” she taunted with a seductive purr.
