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‘It wasn’t a question of missing precisely,’ she said meeting his gaze directly. ‘More a question of unexpected thanksgiving for deliverance from something I feared. You had no right to put me through it.’
‘I’d every right. You serve at my pleasure. When it pleases me to come to you and not before. Would you deny me that right? You were the one who agreed to the arrangement.’
She shrugged. She’d no choice but to agree. He seemed content to forge that little fact. ‘So you say, but treating another person like that is not how I do things.’
His eyes flashed. ‘And you believe you are superior to me? That I should treat you different than other women?’
‘You need to learn about Northumbrian manners if you wish to rule here successfully.’ Edith tapped her foot. She wasn’t going to think about other women.
He drew his eyebrows together. ‘You think me ill mannered.’
‘Yes.’ Edith glared back at him. She no longer cared if he did anything to her. He was the one in the wrong.
‘You wound my pride.’
‘I suspect your pride isn’t even in the slightest dented. You have more than enough pride for the both of us.’
‘And you have none.’ He arched his brow. ‘A veritable saint. Well bred and always correct.’
Edith rolled her eyes. It was such a typical feint, trying to change the subject. Her father had been that way whenever he lost an argument.
‘I am proud, proud of things that matter, such as how I have run this estate and how I’ve looked after the people on it.’ She held out her hands. ‘Why should I deny that? Is it wrong to be proud of one’s accomplishments? The sort of pride I despise is the sort which seeks advantage over another.’
‘You have a tart tongue.’
‘I’ve never seen it necessary to sweeten it with honey and have no wish to start now.’
‘You prefer honesty.’
Edith straightened her shoulders. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘This is all about you sacrificing yourself for the good of others, serving yourself up as the innocent lamb.’
Edith swallowed hard. It amazed her that Brand knew of something of Christian imagery. There again, he had been in England for ten years. ‘I don’t recall you making a demand that it had to be one thing or another.’
Her body stiffened and she waited for the blow. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.
‘That will teach me, little one. Make a foolish statement and you will get the better of me. I won’t make the same mistake twice.’
‘I’m not little. I’m tall.’ Edith moved the conversation away from the potentially difficult problem of why she’d done it. It appeared that Brand never had any real intention of making her his concubine in truth. Somehow that fact hurt.
‘Maybe for a Northumbrian, but in Norway our women match us.’ His countenance took on a faraway look. ‘Strong women are needed to breed a race of warriors as my father used to say.’
‘A woman’s strength depends on things other than her height.’
‘We are in agreement. Norsewomen are forged differently.’
Edith’s heart panged slightly. There was a woman back there who’d claimed his heart. It shouldn’t make a difference, but somehow it did. There was no good hoping for more. She was his concubine, not his love. ‘I was the same height as my late husband,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not used to being little.’
He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You are smaller than me.’
Edith moistened her suddenly dry lips. ‘I know.’
‘That makes you little.’
‘Or you big.’
‘It’s all in your point of view.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Edith knew her breath was coming far too quickly. Her heartbeat raced and her entire body was aware of him and how close he was standing. She could see the droplet of water which had gathered at the base of his throat.
He dipped his head. This time, his lips nibbled at her mouth, teasing and provoking. Edith arched towards him and his arms came about her, holding her there. Her mouth opened and she tasted his clean taste.
He lifted his head and she moved away immediately.
‘What was that for?’ she asked, a little too breathlessly for her liking.
‘No particular reason.’
‘I think you wanted to end the argument.’
Brand looked down at her upturned face. He fought against the instinct to crush her to him again and truly explore the depths of her interior. He wanted to savour the pursuit. He’d forgotten what it was like to spar with a woman. Too often these days women seemed to fall at his feet. Most had an eye on his position or his money.
