“I’m not sure a strong marriage is formed on the foundationof a woman who needs care for a head injury.”
“I’ve seen them formed on less.”
“Where I come from, you marry for love.”
“Fleuridiahas these fancifulnotions, but that doesn’t mean they’re unsound.”
“Do you have a response for everything?”
“Do you have any real, solid reason not to wed me?”
That stymied her.
He grinned.
She watched his mouth form it.
Fuck, he needed tokiss her.
“Satrine.”
Her eyes drifted up to his.
And then she destroyed him.
“I don’t want you to feel beholden to me,” she whispered.“What you’re offering is more beautiful than words can describe.And I’mgrateful for it.But years pass, and thoughts inevitably form.As do regrets.You’re a fine man, so very lovely and protective.You deserve to marry forsomething as fine as you.Not a woman who needs your money and protection totake care of her family.”
“You’ve just described every aristocratic marriage in therealm, save the king’s, and that was arranged by a malevolent she-god in hopesof bringing a plague to the land.”
“Wh-what?”
“The troubles.”
“Oh, yes.Those.”
He spanned her hip with his hand.
Held her eyes.
And whispered.“Marry me.”
Her body melted partially into his.
“God, that was sweet and hot and romantic.You’re like,impossibleto refuse,” she mumbled.
“Then don’t refuse me.”
She studied his throat.
“Satrine.”
Her gaze shot to his.
“Make me one promise,” she demanded.
“What is it?”
“You’ll never hate me.”
