Once again he’d been tempted to ask her to be his wife. To live with him and run his household and bear his children. To make him happy and joyful in a way he’d never imagined, and to let him try to make her happy, too.
Yet as always, the memory of the worst days of his youth, when he was beaten and starving, cold and wet, completely at the mercy of men bigger and stronger than he, arose.
And silenced him.
He couldn’t lose Dunkeathe and all it represented.
Yet what if Marianne was right, and he came to regret losing Riona even more?
Dunkeathe was a fortress, a pile of stone. Riona was light and joy, happiness and bliss. She was loving and generous, shrewd and resolute. Dunkeathe would be empty once she was gone.
Hewould be empty, and more lonely than he’d ever been before, in his great fortress of cold, hard stone. What if he discovered that he’d given up the greater prize for a castle and the capricious favor of kings?
He rolled onto his back—and instantly realized he wasn’t alone.
Then he saw the long blond hair.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“SHITE!”
The earthy curse exploded from Nicholas as he scrambled out of the bed.
Her hair loose and unkempt, Joscelind emitted a little shriek as she sat up, holding the sheets to her bare breasts.
“Get out of my bed,” Nicholas ordered, quite oblivious to the fact that he, too, was naked.
“But my lord—”
“Now!” he roared, the word reverberating around the room.
“You don’t want me? Even though I’m willing to give myself to you before our marriage?”
“No!”
More enraged and outraged than he’d ever been in his life, Nicholas grabbed his discarded breeches and tugged them on. He spotted thefeileadh—the garment he’d worn last night, the one his beloved Riona had shown him how to wear—neatly folded on the chest. Riona must have put it there before she left, before this other woman had come into his chamber and crawled into his bed.
As he yanked on his boots, Joscelind covered her face with her hands and started to weep—or sound as if she were.
“Stop that,” he snapped. “I’ll not be swayed by false tears. Get up and get dressed and get out of my bedchamber. If you’re discovered here—”
“If I’m discovered here, you’ll have to marry me, if you’re an honorable man.”
He reached for his shirt and tugged it on. “Then woe to you, my lady, for I’m notthathonorable.”
Joscelind slowly and deliberately climbed from his bed, his sheet wrapped about her. “Who do you think you are?” she demanded as if she were the one sinned against. “You’re nothing but an upstart mercenary who managed to persuade some fool of a king to give you an estate. You should be grateful I’d lower myself to sleep with you before marriage.”
Fists pounded on the door, and a Saxon voice called out, “My lord? Is anything amiss, my lord?”
Damn her!And damnhimfor shouting. “No,” he called out. “All is well. A bad dream.”
“Will you marry me?” Joscelind asked without lowering her voice.
He swiveled on his heel and glared at her. “Even before this little trick of yours, you wouldneverhave been my choice. As for lowering yourself, I’m sorry being in my bed is so demeaning. You should have saved yourself the trouble.”
Shooting him an enraged look, she ran to the door and threw it open. “Guards!” she called out before he could stop her. “Come back!”
Nicholas grabbed hold of the door to close it. “Don’t bring scandal and shame on yourself. Your trick didn’t work. Your gamble didn’t pay off. Accept that and go, before your reputation is ruined.”
