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"You what? Wanted to see how many rocks you could move before you ruined your back? I know it still bothers you occasionally, so don't bother trying to deny it."
She winced. "I used Craft to take most of the weight." "Oh, I can see that," he said, pointing at her Rose Jewel. "And you needed to draw so much power to lift things you couldn't possibly lift otherwise that you drained your Purple Dusk Jewel doing it. Isn't that why you're wearing the Rose?"
When she just stared at him mutely, he swore and started pacing to work off the sharpest edge of temper. Problem was, the movement also gave him time to notice more of what she'd done.
He snarled at her. "In order to get this much cleared, you must have started the minute I was out of sight and kept at it for the past two days."
"I got my work done," Marian protested.
Oh. Well.That certainly made him feel better. And the tears in her eyes and defeated way she held herself ripped at him. He didn't want her defeated. He didn't want her afraid. But he'd be damned if he was going to let her hurt herself in order to do…
"What is this, Marian?" Lucivar waved his hand to indicate the cleared land. "Explain."
She looked at the ground, a tear sliding down her face. "A kitchen garden," she whispered. "Some herbs. A few flowers. I didn't think you'd mind."
His temper had eased back from true anger to just being pissed off again, but that comment came close to snapping the leash. He hauled her to her feet, certain her back and leg muscles were now tight enough that she couldn't have gotten up by herself, and pulled her toward the eyrie.
Her emotions battered at him…fear that he was going to punish her for doing something without his permission, fear of what a man of his temper and power would do to her as punishment. The fact that she expected punishment told him more about the males who had been part of her life than he wanted to know.
"If you wanted a kitchen garden, you could have spent the past two days figuring out where you wanted it and what you wanted in it," he said, keeping his voice as level as he could manage. "I could have cleared the ground for you when I got back. Did it even occur to you to ask me?"
"No," Marian said in a small voice.
No. Well, that was a kick in the balls. Even the coven knew better than that. Blood males served. That was something so deeply ingrained in the males even the cruelty in Terreille couldn't extinguish it completely. In Kaeleer, where the Blood still lived by the Old Ways, males considered it their right and privilege to serve…and got pretty testy when a witch they knew personally denied them an opportunity to be helpful.
If Marian didn't know that yet, it was something she'd better figure out. Fast.
He pulled her into the eyrie, through the laundry room, and wound his way through curving corridors until he reached the pool Andulvar
had built long ago as a place for a warrior to sit back in heated water and ease tired muscles.
She hadn't openly fought him in an attempt to get away, but from the first step, she'd been silently resisting like some stubborn puppy tethered to a leash. That was fine since he had the rhythm of this little dance and knew how to use it.
Treat her like the coven, Saetan had said. Well, he knew exactly what he'd have done to Jaenelle or any of her friends if they'd upset him over something like this.
When he got near the edge of the pool, he propelled Marian forward. Her automatic step back gave him time to switch hands so that one now-gripped her arm and the other held a fistful of her tunic. A hard shove forward, a swinging lift up, and… "No!" Marian yelled. "My boo…" …splash.
He used Craft to control her drop so she wouldn't slip and damage a wing. Now she stood in heated water up to her waist, with a look on her face that was closer to grumpy than fearful.
Grumpy was fine. Grumpy was good. He wondered just how grumpy he could make her.
"Boots," he said. He'd vanished them off her feet just before she hit the water. Now he called them in, dangling them over her head before he vanished them again. "Which you'll get back if you do what you're told."
She stared up at him. "If I do what I'm told?"
Pointing at her, he said sternly, "You're going to sit your ass down and let that hot water soak out some of the soreness in your muscles. And you're going to stay there until I come back and fetch you." He turned and walked to the entrance.
"Fetch me?" Marian said, sputtering."Fetch me? What do you think I am? An addlebrainedpuppy?"
He turned back. "No, you're female. And I don't think it's wise to discuss your brains right now."
He walked out of the room, stopped as soon as he was out of sight, and listened.
Mutters. Then the slap of wet cloth on stone.
Lucivar grinned. So there was a little temper under that quiet disposition. He'd have to work on that. Shouldn't be too difficult. He excelled at getting witches riled up.
When he got back to the side doorway, Tassle was waiting for him.
*I tried,Yas, but she wouldn't listen.*
"No, she wouldn't have."
Tassle hung his head. *Because I am kindred.*
"Nope. Because you have a c**k instead of br**sts. She probably patted you on the head and promised to stop soon."
*She did.* Tassle looked at Lucivar with interest. *Did she pat your head?*
"No, she didn't." If she'd been capable of lifting another rock, she would have tried to brain him, but patting any male wasn't exactly on her mind at the moment.
The daylight was almost gone, so he couldn't see the full extent of what she'd done in the past two days, but what he could see was enough to make him shake his head.
Hell's fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. The woman was insane.
That was the only explanation he had for Marian trying to clear, close to half an acre of land in order to plant a few vegetables, herbs, and flowers. Of course, being a hearth witch meant having a tidy streak that went down to the marrow, so she'd never be content with seeing weeds beyond her little beds. Which meant she'd be out here working too hard every time he turned his back.
She'd drive him up the walls inside of a week…and she was already doing that on a regular basis just by being where he could see her.
He understood her wanting the garden. Besides the practical reasons of growing some of their own food, it would be hers. Her work, her accomplishment, her… claim.
He looked at the land again, turning that thought over. Everyone needed something to call their own. She lived in it and took care of it, but she thought of the eyrie as his place. But the garden… Something of her own, apart from him. Something she would want to see change with the seasons. Which meant she intended to stay, even if she didn't realize it yet.
