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father and took
Strangclyf. I sought protection from Bernon and I am no more. Do
not enter the gorge unless my colors have been replaced with black
and gold. Godspeed, Your little lamb.”
    Irritation crossed
Bernon’s face. “Why do you sign the message thusly? You are mine,
not his.”
    “ He has called me ‘my
little lamb’ ever since I was little. If I sign this way, he shall
know ‘tis from me.”
    His gaze raked over her.
“The size of little must be a matter of opinion.” She bowed her
head and tried to keep her hand from trembling. He sighed. “You
will mark out the your and sign it just ‘little lamb.’”
    Barwolf dipped the quill
into the inkpot and crossed out the word your .
    Glancing up, she saw her
husband gazing out the window at the night sky with hands clasped
behind his back. He looked like the master of the world, someone
she could depend upon to keep Strangclyf guarded and the children
protected. He had claimed her as his in front of the king after her
terrible spectacle too. She had been so nervous that once she
started telling him her flaws, she hadn’t been able to stop. He
hadn’t even instructed her as she expected. He said she wasn’t
inferior instead. Why, she would claim him too.
    Before he could turn back,
she quickly jotted his name above the crossed out word, sanded the
change, and rolled the missive. “’Tis done.”
    ~ * ~
    Bernon took the scroll to
a messenger who waited outside the office. After closing the door,
he walked back across the room and stared down at his bride who was
rubbing the left side of her head. After a moment, she gasped,
quickly stood, bowed her head, and clasped her hands in front of
her.
    He frowned, remembering
Geno’s words about her cousin striking her. “Does your ear pain
you?”
    She gave him a tiny
nod.
    Had Hadwyn done anything
else to her that made her this fearful? “You told Geno that your
cousin touched only your neck, arm, and head. How did you get the
bruise on your leg?”
    “ I fell against the tiller
in the boat on the way here,” she replied shyly and her cheeks
burned that he should have viewed so much of her.
    “ And no one touched you
anywhere else?”
    She shook her
head.
    He sighed. “Do you think
you can restrain yourself during our meal with King
William?”
    She raised an anxious gaze
to his. “You cannot eat at the same table with me.”
    His brows snapped
together. “Why not?”
    “ The sight of me during a
meal causes food to settle sour in the male belly.”
    “ Do you seek to
deliberately rile my anger?”
    “ Nay, milord.”
    “ Then you will cease
insulting yourself.”
    “ I apologize if I blundered
again and upset you. ‘Twas only said to spare you
distress.”
    She once again assumed her
submissive pose and Bernon studied her. How could she possibly
believe all the disparaging things she said about herself? He
didn’t want a wife lacking in pride and spirit. His wife should be
a dignified woman, a reflection of himself.
    Moving behind the writing
table, he sat in the chair and pulled her around, so she stood
between his legs facing him. He unclasped her hands and held one in
each of his on either side of her. “I wish to look at my bride’s
face.”
    She raised her head. He
captured her shame-filled gaze with his. “Your height is just
right. Your woman’s body is supposed to curve and be soft. Even
though ‘tis short, your hair curls in a nice fashion and goes well
with your face. You do not have the eyes of a jaded tart. You could
not have murdered your brother while still in your mother’s womb.
My arm has been tended. I may not have wanted a wife, but if you
had been born male, then you would be the wrong gender for me. You
are not hideous. If you truly carry out even half of the duties you
claim, then you are not inferior. If you wish to please me, then
you will cease claiming all these alleged flaws. I will let you
know if you have any. I do not intend to love you, because ‘twould
be a