“My—?” Rogan said, aghast. “He just tried to kill me. If that means nothing to you, it means a
great deal to me.”
She went to him and put her hands on his arms. “You have lost so many brothers, and most of them were half-brothers. How can you bear to lose another? Take this man and train him. Train him to be one of your knights.”
He stepped away from her, gaping at her. “Do you tell me how to run my men? Do you ask me to live with a man who tried to kill me? Do you hope to rid yourself of me so you can have this man?”
Liana threw her hands in the air in a gesture of helplessness. “What a fool you are! I chose you. Do you have any idea how many suitors I had? They desperately wanted my father’s money, and they courted me in every possible way. They wrote poetry to me, sang songs to my loveliness. But you! You shoved me in a bog and told me to wash your clothes and, fool that I am, I agreed to marry you. And what have I received in return for my stupidity? Other women in your bed while you ignore me. The stench of you. And now you dare to accuse me of liking other men. I have cleaned that cesspit you call a home. I have given you better food, I have been an enthusiastic bed partner, and you dare to accuse me of adultery? Go on, kill the man. What do I care? I will return to my father and you can have all the gold and no troublesome wife.”
Her anger was leaving her and she felt tired and deflated, and near to tears. She had failed with him. Just as Helen had warned, she had failed.
“What bog?” was all Rogan said after a moment.
Liana was swallowing her tears. “By the pond,” she said tiredly. “You made me wash your clothes. Shall we go now? He will waken soon.”
Rogan stepped toward her, put his fingertips under her chin, and lifted her head to look at him. “I had forgotten that. So you’re the hellion who beat the holes in my clothes?”
She jerked away from him. “I replaced your clothes. Shall we go now? Or perhaps I should leave and you can stay behind and kill your brother. Perhaps he has sisters and you can abduct them and get yourself a new set of Days.”
Rogan caught her arm and turned her to face him. Yes, she was that girl at the pool. He remembered lying there, aware that he was being watched and pleased to find it was a pretty woman. She’d shown fire then and even more fire the night she’d put a torch to his bed.
He gave her something he hadn’t given a woman in years: He smiled at her.
Liana felt her knees grow weak at his smile. His handsome face was transformed into boyish good looks. Was this the man his first wife had seen? If so, how could she have ever left him?
“So,” he said, “you agreed to marry me because I tossed you in a bog?”
No matter how good he looked, she wasn’t going to answer him—not when he used that tone of voice. He made her sound like a brainless, lustful peasant girl, no more than one of his Days. She turned away, her back straight, head held high, and started back toward the village.
He caught her and, to her disbelief, lifted her in his arms like a baby, then tossed her high. “What do you have planned for me now? Another bed burning? Or maybe you’ll set the whole castle on fire this time?” He tossed her up again. “For someone so little you have a mighty way of getting what you want.”
Her arms went about his neck to keep from falling.
“That’s better,” he said, and kissed her neck.
Liana’s anger melted and Rogan knew it because she could feel his silent laughter against her neck. “You!” she said, and smacked his shoulder. “Put me down. Are you going to kill your brother?”
He looked at her and shook his head. “You don’t let go of something, do you?”
She put her hand up and caressed his cheek. “No,” she said softly. “When I decide I want something, I never let it go.”
His eyes turned serious as he looked at her as if he were puzzled about something, and he started to reply to her, but a groan from Baudoin on the ground behind them caught his attention. Rogan put Liana down so quickly she stumbled against a tree.
When she recovered her balance, she saw Rogan standing over his half-brother, the knife in his hands.
Liana began to pray. She prayed fervently, with all her heart, for her husband to show mercy to this young man.
“And how will you kill me?”
She opened her eyes to see Baudoin standing straight and proud before Rogan, showing no fear.
“Fire?” Baudoin asked. “Or will your torturers work on me? Are your men hidden in the woods and spying on us? Will they burn the village because of what was in the play?”
Liana looked at the two men, Rogan with his back to her, and held her breath. She knew her husband could kill Baudoin easily if he wanted, but she prayed he would not. Rogan tossed the knife from one hand to the other and remained silent.
“What do you do to earn your keep?” Rogan asked at last.
The question seemed to startle Baudoin. “I buy and sell wool.”