"Basket," Marian gasped. "My carry basket. All my shopping."
Taking the easy way out of this discussion, Lucivar dumped her over his shoulder, walked out of The Tavern, and caught a Wind that would take them home.
"I'm sorry," Marian said, trying not to wince as Lucivar ripped her clothes off. They were past repairing anyway, and since she was the reason he was limping and had a rather impressive bruise blooming on his jaw, she figured she shouldn't argue with him about the clothes.
"You're not half as sorry as you're going to be," Lucivar growled as he knelt to strip off her boots. He led her to the steps at one corner of the heated pool…steps he'd never mentioned the first time he dumped her in there…and kept one hand on her arm to steady her as she descended. Then he stripped off his own clothes and joined her.
"All right," he said. "Let's have a look at you." He called in a washcloth, dipped it in the water, and washed the mud off her face.
Gentle, thorough, grim. She watched his face as he tended each
bruise, saw the flash of temper in his eyes when he came to a cut. Then he growled as he carefully checked her hands.
"Didn't remember to put a shield around your hands before you threw the first punch, did you?" He probed her knuckles and fingers."Of course, if you'd thought to put a shield around yourself in the first place, she couldn't have landed a blow at all."
She raised her chin. "You didn't shield, either, when you waded into the fight."
His eyes met hers. "I wasn't expecting my lover to try to kick my balls down the street."
My lover.The words warmed her more than anything else could. He'd never said he loved her, and she hadn't wanted to spoil the easy way they were now living together by telling him she loved him. But she thought it, felt it, more with each day…and hoped that someday he would feel the same.
Then what she'd done finally sank in. She closed her eyes and hunched her shoulders.
"Marian?" Lucivar's voice was sharp, alarmed.
"I'm sorry."
"About what?"
"I caused a public scene. I'm sorry I embarrassed you by doing that."
His finger rapped her chin hard enough to startle her into opening her eyes. How could he look grim and amused at the same time?
"Sweetheart," he said, "it's going to take more than a public brawl to embarrass me. Especially since I've initiated my fair share of public scenes."
"I've never done anything like that before."
"Why did you this time?"
Anger spurted through her as she remembered the look on Roxie's face, the things the woman said. "She wanted to hurt you. She wanted to take away everything that matters to you. I couldn't let her do that."
She couldn't read the look in his eyes. Soft. Hot. Something more, but she wasn't sure what it was.
"Do I mean that much to you?" he asked quietly.
I love you."Yes, you mean that much to me."
He smiled, then brushed his lips over hers. "Do I mean enough to you that you're going to let me fuss over you without snarling at me today?"
"I—" She frowned and studied his lazy, arrogant smile. "Do I have a choice?"
"No." He kissed the bruise on her cheek. "But you can snarl at me. I like the sound of it."
His mouth drifted to her neck, and his soft snarl as his teeth scraped over her skin made her float on a wave of desire.
"Lucivar," she whispered, wrapping arms that felt liquid and heavy around his neck. "Lucivar." She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open anymore.
She felt him shift her, felt him sheath himself inside her. Hard. Hot. Something more.
"That's it, sweetheart," Lucivar whispered as he moved inside her. "That's it. Take all of me. I want to give you all of me."
I want…Nothing to do but ride the last crest that left her floating.
She was vaguely aware of being lifted out of the pool, of being dried off and tucked into bed, but she couldn't rouse herself enough to shake the warm contentment that was pulling her down to a quiet, deep place.
"You put a sleep spell on me, didn't you?" she grumbled.
"You'll thank me for it later," Lucivar replied, kissing her temple.
I love you.
"That's good to hear, witchling, because I love you, too."
She was dreaming. Of course she was dreaming. But she smiled and let the dream take her.
Lucivar made a pot of coffee, then rummaged through the cold box for something to eat. Ah. There was the rest of the country casserole Marian had made for dinner last night. After putting the dish in the oven to heat, he started to look around for something to go with it, but the garden caught his attention, drawing him to the kitchen window.
Still plenty of snow out there, but where the sun had melted the snow and warmed the earth, he could see the green shoots. She'd been so delighted when she'd seen that her spring bulbs had survived the winter.
Jaenelle had reacted the same way.
Was that why Marian pulled at him the way no other woman did? She and Jaenelle were so different in some ways and so similar in others. Hearth witch and Queen, but the same qualities that made them both exceptional women, each in her own way.
And she loved him.
Lucivar smiled.
Did Marian realize she'd said it out loud? Had she heard his reply?
He called in the jeweler's box, opened it, and studied the two rings inside. When he'd bought Marian the amber necklace for Winsol, he'd also had Banard make these rings. Amber and jade set in a gold band for Marian. A plain gold band for him.
Marriage rings. He wanted to slide that ring on her finger, wanted to wear that gold band that was a symbol of commitment, partnership… and love.
They'd been together almost a full turn of the seasons. She'd seen the worst of him…no, not the worst; she'd never seen him walk off a killing field, but she'd gone through a rut with him…and, hopefully, he'd also shown her the best, had shown her she could grow in a marriage with him, that she could be everything she wanted to be.
Maybe it was time to ask her to share her life with him, not just as a lover but as a wife. He wanted, fiercely, to be her husband.
He closed the box and vanished it. Soon. Very soon.
First, he had to decide what to do about Roxie.
TWENTY
Lucivar took a deep breath before knocking on the front door of Roxie's house. The street was too quiet for midday, even in the aristo part of Doun. He could almost feel all the eyes peering at him from behind sheer curtains. They would have heard some version of what happened yesterday, so they knew why he was here. To pass judgment. To draw a line between what would be accepted in Ebon Rih and what would not.