Ice skittered down her spine on sharp claws. He could, she realized. This wasn't an idle threat. He wasn't the first blueblood she'd fended off, but none had talked or looked like him. People said that the true aristocrats, bred for generations deep within magic, were striking. If that was true, he must've come from the dead center of the Weird. "What is it you want?"
"What do you think I want?"
She gritted her teeth. "Let me make this completely clear: I won't sleep with you."
Surprise flickered in his eyes. Thick eyebrows crept up. "What? Why?"
Rose blinked, lost for words. He actually found it shocking that she didn't fall over herself to spread her legs.
"I'm waiting for an explanation."
Rose crossed her arms. "Let me guess. You're the fourth son of a blueblood family down on its luck: no title to tempt an heiress and no inheritance money to purchase a noble bride. You've heard about the mongrel Edger girl who flashes white and decided that since you can't have an heiress or a title, you can at least sire a brood of powerful babies, so you came to shop for a bride in the Edge. I have no time for people like you."
"Trust me, you've never met anyone like me." He made it sound like a threat.
"You mean an arrogant snob who'd force a woman into his bed without any regard for her feelings? Actually, I've met plenty. Been there, done that, bought a T-shirt."
He frowned. "What do shirts have to do with anything?"
"There's nothing for you here. Go away, or I'll make you gone."
He grimaced. "You're rude, vulgar, and you speak in an atrocious fashion. You'll take so much work before you can be presentable. And you actually feel that you're a suitable spouse for me?"
That hurt. "That's right. I'm rude and vulgar. A mongrel. That's why you should leave me in peace. Run along to your fancy ladies. I'm sure one of them will gladly fall on her back for you and be overjoyed to pop out a litter of bluebloods. I won't marry you, and I won't be your mistress. Leave us be."
"I have no intention of leaving until I get what I want." He stated it as a fact and fixed her with his gaze. Fear blocked her throat. There was no give in those eyes and no mercy. Only savage magic and iron will.
"If I wish it, you'll marry me. Shooting me, running me over with a vehicle, or trying to sour my disposition will do nothing to help your cause."
She raised her chin. "I'll fight you to the end," she promised. "You'll have to kill me." She jerked her crossbow up, sighting his chest.
"I have no intention to hurt you. Go ahead and fire," he said. "I won't count it against you - it will save me some breath."
She shot him.
It happened so fast, she barely saw it: a thin shield of purest white flashed in front of him, striking the bolt in midair. The metal and wood disintegrated. He looked down on her. "Your bullets and your bolts can't injure me."
Rose bit her lip, fighting a shiver. It took all of her will to continue glaring at his face.
The menace in his eyes eased a bit. "I understand why you insist on being unreasonable. This is to be expected, considering your upbringing. Still, we have a dilemma. I mean to have you as my bride. You mean to refuse me. A man's home is his refuge. I have no wish to share mine with a feral cat who spends all her time sharpening her claws and thinking of inventive ways to flay me when my guard slips. Nor do I want to fight you, especially not with the children here. They might be accidentally injured, and witnessing our violent clash wouldn't be good for them. There's a traditional way to resolve this. Challenge me."
"What?" Rose blinked.
"Give me three challenges," he said. "Three tasks. I'll excel at each one. When I succeed, you'll come to me willingly and you'll obey me."
"And if you fail?"
He permitted himself a half smile. "Don't concern yourself with that possibility. I won't."
"If you fail, you'll go away and never bother us again."
He shrugged. "Yes, that's how those things are usually worded."
Rose's mind sped through the possibilities. "And if I refuse?"
A white glow frosted the green irises. The magic swelled around him, building. It buckled in his grasp, plain even through the two lines of wards. He was monstrously powerful. She got the message loud and clear.
Rose bit her lip. She had no choice. She couldn't risk fighting him straight on, not with the boys here. He was very strong, and she wasn't a pushover. He was right - if they clashed, the boys might get hurt just from the collision of their magics. Besides, she wasn't sure she could win a direct confrontation. But challenges? She could do challenges. If you can't outfight an enemy, outsmart him, trick him, swindle him - do whatever it takes to win. That was the Edger way.
"Three tasks," she said, managing to sound upbeat. "Whatever I wish?"
"Within the realm of possible," he said. "I can't pluck the moon from the sky and hang it around your neck."
"I want you to swear to the terms," she said.
He sighed. "Very well."
He pulled a narrow knife from his belt and showed it to her. The rays of the rising sun gleamed, reflecting from the wicked metal profile of the blade. "I, Declan Riel Martel, ade Dominik, ade Logran, ade Rotibor, Earl of Camarine, Lord of Longshire, Svyator, and Veres, hereby swear to fulfill three tasks given to me within the next two weeks by . . ." He looked at her.
"Rose Drayton." He owned more titles than TitleMax. Maybe he could pawn some of them off, if he was short on cash. With his looks and pedigree, surely some Weird duchess or baroness would gladly marry him. What was he doing here, shattering her life?
". . . Rose Drayton, provided they are within human limits. I swear to cause no harm to Rose or her family and lay no claim upon her or her loved ones while I'm engaged in this challenge. Should I fail, I swear to leave Rose Drayton and her family in peace . . ."
"Alive and uninjured," Rose put in.
"Alive and uninjured. Should I succeed, I'll gain a right to claim Rose Drayton."
He sliced his palm. Magic lashed at Rose. She stumbled back. The ward stones rose a foot above the ground, trembling in empty air in a struggle to deflect the surge of his magic, and crashed back into their spots.
"Your turn." He held the knife out, handle first.
Rose hesitated. He did swear. The oath was binding. He couldn't cause her any harm. She stepped over the ward lines and reached for the knife. Her fingers closed over its carved bone handle, shaped like the head of a snarling cat. "I, Rose Drayton, promise to give . . ." God, she couldn't even remember his names, there were so many. ". . . you three tasks. If you successfully complete them, I promise to come with you . . ." She paused. What exactly followed? She had to word it in the best way possible.