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"You most definitely were." He raises his eyebrows. "Why did you think the thing was already in progress when you arrived?"
I think back to that day and how angry I had been that no one had given me even a moment to rest or freshen up.
"I just assumed you were a thoughtless ass." My tone is teasing, but we both know it's the truth.
I should have assumed Madame's hand in it, as it is in everything else, but I wasn't exactly in a mind frame to think critically that day.
"And I just assumed you were a selfish, spoiled heiress." He smiles to soften the blow, but I don't blame him, considering his side of the situation in hindsight.
He moves his hand from my face to my shoulder, running his fingers gently up and down my arm.
"Is that why you insisted I come alone?" It's something I've been wondering about. If he was willing to let one person into the castle, I wonder what harm a couple of servants or companions would have done.
But his hand stills.
“You’re freezing,” he comments, shifting to get out of bed.
I get the impression he’s buying himself time to respond, but I let it slide.
“A hazard of living here,” I comment wryly.
He pulls several thick furs from a chest at the foot of his bed, then walks around to spread them over me, tucking the ends around my feet.
My throat clogs at the unexpectedly tender gesture, something no one has done for me in at least fifteen years, but I manage to croak out a thank you.
He nods, then gets back into bed. Only when he is settled back in on his side of the bed does he finally answer my question.
"In hindsight, perhaps that was...overly rigid of me." He sounds uncomfortable again, and I realize he is on the verge of another apology. “There was so much going on here in the castle, so much at stake. My people were clamoring for me to find a wife, but it seemed imprudent to add anything else on top of that.”
His reactions at the wedding, his fierce anger, make more sense in the light of that revelation. The subject is clearly making him uncomfortable, though, so I settle on another one.
"You are one to talk about interesting jewelry. I haven't noticed any other men here wearing a chain." I reach my hand out toward his chest, grabbing hold of the small worn key on his chain.
With lightning-fast reflexes, his hand closes over mine. The motion is gentle, but the sentiment is clear. His grasp relaxes a bit around mine, an apology in his eyes.
"That is a longer story." He sighs, moving his hand away.
I let go of the chain and entwine my fingers with his.
"Then I suppose it's fortunate we have time."
Einar studies my face for something before his gaze travels to our linked hands and he takes a deep breath.
“You’re not what I expected.” His eyes flick back up to mine, a question lingering in them and something that looks like hope.
It’s the second part that breaks me, but I can’t let him see that.
“Oh? And what did you expect?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It hardly matters now.”
I nod back at the chain around his neck.
“Does it have to do with that?”
“It does.”
I wait for him to continue, allowing the silence between us to grow until he’s ready.
