Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [130]
“A babe would not be necessary so soon if you weren’t such a stubborn man. I must tie you to me in every way I can, or you’ll start having qualms about doing what must be done.”
“Wedding you and getting you with child?”
“And living with me for many, many years.”
“Years…,” he repeated wistfully. “You seem so certain. I cannot believe. I can only hope.”
“At least you hope. I was beginning to think you’d remain lost in gloom forever. I was growing very weary of it.” She said with emphasis, “But I believe. That is enough.”
“It appears it will have to be.” He kissed her on the tip of the nose. “For you have me too muddled and bedazzled to put two thoughts together.”
“Do I?” Her arms tightened around him. “Good. For that was my purpose. When you think, I have only trouble with you.”
His expression clouded. “I should think. I should not let you—”
“Hush.” She followed the command with a quick, hard kiss. “You see? Nothing but disturbance. We deserve this and I’ll not permit you to spoil it.” She pushed him back on the bed and rolled on top of him. “Though after El Sunan you must prove to me that you deserve me.”
“I don’t deserve you. And I cannot prove what isn’t true.”
She could feel tears sting her eyes. She swallowed hard. “I’ll endeavor to keep you firmly of that belief. You’re a proud, arrogant man, and it’s taken me much too long to convince you of my worth.”
“You didn’t convince me, I always knew it. You are sunlight and strength and joy.” He added simply, “And that’s why I will love you to my last breath.”
Dear God, it was dangerous to love a man this much. This was what she had feared, that love would leave her vulnerable. She could not be flippant or raise any barriers against him when he moved her like this.
His index finger traced her jawbone. “I would like to give you a gift. Women like gifts, don’t they?”
“I suppose everyone likes gifts.”
“What can I give you?”
He might already have given her the gift she had demanded of him. But she would not speak of the babe until they were safely away from this land.
“Only one thing,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Smile. You are too grim. You must smile more.” She smiled herself, but she knew it to be a poor, tremulous one. “A husband should look happy, or everyone will think you’ve taken a terrible shrew for a wife.”
It was close to dawn when Kadar returned to the chamber.
Selene watched him move like a shadow toward his pallet. She would not feel this overwhelming relief. He had been foolish not to heed her plea.
“Say it,” Kadar said as he lay down. “Or you will surely burst.”
“Two?”
“Two.”
“Then you don’t deserve to be alive.”
“The deserving don’t always get their just rewards.” He rolled over and pulled up his cover. “If you’re finished, I’d like to go to sleep.”
“I’m finished.” She lay there a minute longer. “Kemal’s men would have butchered us if given the opportunity. They almost killed Lord Ware.”
“Yes.”
“Then you should feel no guilt.”
“I feel no guilt.”
“I think you do.”
“You’re wrong. Once the decision to kill is made, I feel nothing. I’ve been well trained.”
She was suddenly aware of an aura of remote hardness surrounding him that frightened her. “By that foul Old Man. You’re not like him.”
“He thinks I am.” He paused. “I don’t really want to argue with you anymore tonight. Do you suppose you could restrain yourself and go back to sleep?”
His voice was heavy with unutterable weariness, and for some reason that exhaustion only made her angrier. “You won’t sleep.”
“Of course I will.”
The certainty in his tone increased her uneasiness. She sat up and lit the candle on the table next to the bed.
He turned his face to look at her. “Blow out the candle.”
The flame was reflected in his dark eyes, but they mirrored no warmth. Cold. Cold and yet as burning as the eyes of the Old Man of the Mountain.
She stared at him as stunned as if she had been pierced with a sword. Panic tore through her.
No, by the Saints, she would not permit this.
She threw aside the cover, ran across the room, and dropped to her knees beside him. “You must not do