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annoying man pursed his lips and called to her in an unnecessarily harsh voice. “Wife!”
    Wife? Could he not even deign to use her name? Did she really want him to use her given name? Anything would be better than wife ! “I will not be called like a dog,” she said, not moving an inch toward him.
    “Then how will you be called?” he responded.
    Morgana pursed her lips. He should be intimidated by her. He should know his place! Most of all, he should’ve taken whatever bribe her stepfather had offered.
    “I will not be called at all,” she said calmly. “Not by you. ”
    He surprised her by flashing a bright, joy-filled grin that showed too many teeth and far too much good humor. “That will make our marriage interesting, I suppose.”
    She pushed down the fear that threatened to choke her, wondering if—when—the dark chill of destruction might arise within her. “Surely you do not expect that we will actually remain married.” She hadn’t decided on a plan just yet, but she would. This man could be bought, somehow. Her stepfather would forgive her, eventually. Life as she knew it, as she had planned it to be, would continue.
    Since she had refused to move toward Jahn Devlyn, he came to her, a sack of food taken from her own kitchen clutched in his hand. “You will come to like me, wife.”
    “I doubt that.”
    “I am not fat, nor arrogant, nor horribly old, and while I am no genius, I’m not a simpleton, either. I have my own rented room over a tavern in Arthes, so we will not have to share our home of wedded bliss with others. The room isn’t much, but it will be ours. I have been told I don’t snore too horribly.” As he came nearer, she noticed that he had quite remarkable blue eyes. And then he tossed the sack of food at her. She did not attempt to catch the sack, so it fell at her feet.
    The humor fled and Jahn’s blue eyes went hard. “Slice the bread and cheese. Save enough for tomorrow’s noon meal.”
    “I’m not a servant,” she argued.
    “No, you’re a wife. Beyond that, you are an equal member of this traveling party. Blane is caring for the animals and fetching water. I will build a fire. You will prepare supper, which will be no chore as it requires only a bit of carving. Surely you’re capable of that small task.” He chose that moment to stroke his unattractive multicolored beard.
    “I am going to be a terrible wife,” Morgana said. “You should have taken whatever my stepfather offered you to let me be and forgotten the impulsive vow you overheard.”
    Jahn cocked his head and smiled again. “My darling wife, your stepfather offered me nothing. In truth, he seemed rather relieved to be rid of you.”

Chapter Two
    BY the time darkness fell, Jahn felt a bit sorry for his “wife” and a touch guilty about his role in this charade. Just a touch. Haughty as she attempted to be, the pretty and fragile blonde could not hide the fact that she was scared. He had never intended for this journey to be a nightmare for her. Just a lesson, of sorts, a test so that she could appreciate all she’d been offered, after she had a taste of an alternative life.
    So, when Blane made his excuses, retreating to the woods to give them a moment of needed privacy, Jahn presented himself to Lady Morgana. She sat by the fire with her knees drawn up and her delicate chin resting on one of those knees. Her face looked paler than usual against the light blue of her dress and the firelight; her eyes had gone impossibly wide. She stared into the fire as if haunted by something she saw in the flames. Now and then she’d rock back and forth. That could not be a good sign.
    “Just so you’ll know,” he said without emotion, “I do not expect to consummate this marriage during the journey.”
    She glanced up, her suddenly narrowed eyes displaying suspicion. “And why is that?” she asked coldly.
    He smiled down at her. “With Blane around, it would be awkward.” He considered making a joke about