She glared at him, not heeding the warning in his voice.
“What difference would it have made? You were in Scotland and I was here. We were on different sides of the war.”
“And now that we are not?”
A faint blush pinkened her cheeks, and her gaze dropped. “I didn’t think you’d care. As prolific as you are in your…uh, relationships, I assumed this was not an infrequent occurrence. I thought you’d thank me for not telling you.”
Kenneth felt his temper spike hot again. She knew nothing about him. “Oh, I care, and your assumptions are dead wrong. I may have had my share of bed partners—which is nothing that I need to apologize for—but I’ve never had an ‘accident,’ as you put it.”
He’d also never allowed himself to take his release inside a woman before, but for some reason he didn’t want to tell her that.
She bit her lip contritely and also, he noticed to his extreme irritation, adorably. She blinked up at him. “You haven’t?”
He ignored the urge to take that lip between his. Anger and desire were a potent mix that was proving hard to resist. “Nay, not a bastard to be found, I’m afraid, and I have no intention of allowing my firstborn son to be the first.”
“Son? Why would you assume the child is a boy?”
He gritted his teeth. “Because if I’m going to be forced to marry you to give this child a name, you will bloody well give me an heir.”
She paled. “Married? You misunderstand. I have no intention of marrying you. It isn’t necessary. I’ve already made arrangements—”
“I don’t give a shite what kind of arrangements you’ve made.” She startled at the crudeness of his language, her face growing a little paler. “It is you who misunderstand. You don’t have a choice. You will marry me.”
Mary’s heart dropped. “No,” she choked out in a strangled gasp. She shook her head. “No.”
His smile was merciless. “I’m not asking. You’ll marry me if you want to know this child.”
Mary looked up at him in horror, at the hard, ruthless warrior who radiated icy rage and left her no doubt that he meant what he said. Worse, he had the power to carry out the threat. He had all the power. She might be the one carrying the child, but in the eyes of the law, she had no rights. She was a woman in a man’s world. Whatever independence she’d carved out for herself was illusory. She hated him for making her see it.
She’d underestimated him. Misjudged him. Thought that he was as feckless and uncaring as her husband.
But she’d made a mistake. A horrible one. Too late, she saw what her first impression of a handsome hero with an adoring throng had missed: the core of steel and the iron will forged by years of fighting. The man who hated to lose, and the perseverance that had made him a champion. He wouldn’t give up until he achieved what he wanted. The baby. Her. It didn’t matter.
Her stomach rolled. This couldn’t be happening. Her darkest fears had come to life. To save another child from being taken from her, she would have to submit to the will of another man who didn’t care about her. She would lose the power to make her own decisions, lose the ability to control her life, and give it to him to do with as he wished.
Moreover, it wasn’t only her hard-won independence at stake, but her heart as well. Even standing here in this room with him furious with her, a part of her wondered if it could be different. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She’d tried to protect herself against it by running away, but how could she do that if they were married?
Was she doomed to another loveless marriage? To watch another husband adored and fawned over by a bevy of willing admirers?
Her stomach knifed. She couldn’t bear it. After what she’d been through, she would not—couldnot—slip back into the role of the adoring, trusting, and subservient wife. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt when he left her bed for another’s. And it would hurt. If what she’d felt today was any indication, it would hurt quite a lot.
But what choice did she have? Her heart squeezed. Her baby…
He didn’t bother waiting for her to respond. For the second time, he hadn’t bothered to ask her to marry him. A silent sob buried itself in her chest. He’d left her no choice, and they both knew it. “I will speak to Sir Adam and leave for London at dawn.”
“London?”
“Edward will be furious if we wed without his permission. Fortunately, the new king is more of a romantic than his sire, and I think I can convince him to agree to the necessity for a quick and quiet ceremony. We’ll have to hurry, with Lent approaching.”
Despair weighed down on her. She was being dragged along already, no matter her wishes.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “Why are you forcing me to marry you, when you know I have no wish to do so?”
“I told you, my son will have a name.”
“And after that? What happens after you have your heir, what then? Will that be enough?”
He stilled. “What do you mean?”
