Her peasant’s hood had fallen away in their tumbling and her hair had come down. It lay softly on her shoulders. Rogan touched it. “Do you find it ugly?” she whispered.
He looked back at her, love in his eyes. “There is nothing ugly about you. You are the most beautiful woman in the world and I love you, Liana. I love you with all my heart and soul.”
She smiled at him. “Will you let me judge the courts? Can we add on to Moray? Will you stop fighting with the Howards? What should we name our son, my love?”
Rogan’s anger began to rise, then he laughed and hugged her to him. “The courts are men’s business, I’m not adding on to that heap of stone, Peregrines will always fight Howards, and I shall name my son John, after my father.”
“Gilbert, after my father.”
“So he can grow up to be lazy?”
“You’d rather he spent his life impregnating the peasant girls and teaching his children to hate the Howards?”
“Yes,” Rogan answered, holding her and looking up at the sky. “We may disagree on most things, but there is one we seem to agree on. Take off your clothes, wench.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “I am always obedient.”
He started to speak, but she kissed him and he didn’t say another word for hours.