Claiming Her

Susanna squeezed her hand again. “Very true.” Then, tightening her squeeze, she whispered fiercely, “Thank you.”

“I did nothing. Do not thank me.”

Susanna leaned closer. “I have already thanked your master, and I shall again, and again, and again, until the day I die.”

Neither of them looked at the object of their conversation, who sat sprawled back in the chair, watching them with steel-blue eyes under dark brows, like some pagan king overseeing his subjects at revel.

Susanna squeezed Katarina’s hand again. “It is good to see you, and to see you looking so well.”

She smiled in surprise. “Do I look well?”

“Very well, my lady,” Susanna said firmly, then, adding in a mischievous whisper, “One would almost think being locked up in a tower suits you.”

She left soon after, and when the door shut, Katarina tipped her face up to the ceiling and blew out a breath. Then she brought it down, and turned to him.

“Thank you.” There was nothing else to say, but the words were horridly inadequate.

He bent his head in a nod.

“What happened?” she asked. “How did he take it? Bermingham?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. It does not. So, now, Aodh, what would you have of me?”

“The same thing I have eve

r wanted. It has not changed.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She came a step closer. “You have wanted a number of things from me. You want me to marry you, and to commit treason, and to swive you.”

A smile broke the dark intent of his face. “I swive you, lass.”

She waved her hand. “I am certain I could swive you too. However it is meant to work.”

The smile faded. “I can show you.”

She took another step toward him. “I suppose you gave up a great deal, to keep Susanna here with us.”

“I gave up nothing. That man is a calamity.”

“You gave up something. For me.”

“Did it make you happy?”

“Deeply.”

“So come, and make me happy.” He held up his hand. “I have something for you.”

She drew up in front of him.

“Give me your hand.”

He reclined in the chair, but everything about him spoke of vitality and movement. Even the dark inked lines on his neck and arms seemed to move in the sunlight with each subtle shift of his body.

Slowly, she unbent her elbow and held out her hand. He dropped something into it, and folded her fingers around it.

She opened them and stared down at the strange gift. It was a fat three dimensional glass object, crystal clear.