“Only if you make it to be, love,” Ruark replied smoothly.
“Oh, you!” Shanna raged. “What care you of my dilemma? I’d have to face my father, while you no doubt would find some safe haven to protect your precious back from a flogging!”
Ruark peered at her closely. “Have you some indication you’re with child, Shanna? Perhaps the month has been overlong with you?”
Shanna shook her head with a small, irritated jerk and tumed away from his seaching eyes, somewhat embarrassed. “Nay, not yet.”
Ruark reached out to touch her shoulder. “Then soon, mayhaps, love, and you’ll be more at ease.”
Shanna pulled away from his soft caress. “Must you pry into my very life?” She bristled more than a mite. “Am I to have no secrets from you?”
Beneath his fingers, the smooth coil of hair at her nape tumbled to freedom. Ruark lifted a copious lock of her hair and inhaled the delicious fragrance that wafted from it. He murmured close to her ear, stroking the silken locks.
“From your husband, nay, my love. If the seed has already taken, we can only accept the fact.”
With true anger Shanna whirled to face him, and Ruark knew he had pressed too far. “Oh? And what would you do if I were with babe, my bumptious knight, my gracious lord and master?” She sneered. “Will you take the child from my loins and name it yours?”
“Of a certainty, madam,” Ruark assured her. “But therein lies the problem.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Should we name him after John Ruark, admit ourselves lovers, and then be wed? Again? Or should we name him after Ruark Beauchamp, as is his right, and then confess the lot—that we were married from the first—and throw ourselves upon your father’s mercy?”
In outrage Shanna stamped her foot. He was making a jest of it all and laughing at her. Oooh, how she loathed him! Vehemently she longed to set him back upon his heels.
“You are crude,” she railed, magnificent in a high rage, her eyes flashing hot sparks. “You’re a barbarian of the lowest sort! You banter with my pride and toss about my honor lightly. You would spirit from me the very thing I have thus far labored to have, my right to take the husband of my choice.” She threw up a hand to emphasize her words then jerked it down to glare at him. “Am I, then, to bear your bastards meekly?”
The stony silence finally penetrated through her consciousness, and Shanna’s heart leapt almost fearfully as Ruark’s thin, hard fingers slipped through her hair to the nape of her neck, curling in the soft mass until her head was pulled back and she stared up into his face. The muscles in his jaw flexed tensely while the amber eyes, cold with rage, bored into hers.
“They’ll not be bastards, madam. You are my wife.”
Shanna started and shook her head in denial, trying to struggle free. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her fists as if by sheer dint of will she could deny his words. “The bargain’s done with!” she gasped breathlessly. “You agreed!”
“Then what of the vows?” he snarled. “Do you think they were lightly spoken to be discarded at your will?” In the face of her stubborn refusal, Ruark pressed on jeeringly. “Do you honor that which was sworn on an altar less than that in a lowly cell? How do you explain that you’re a widow when I’m much alive and in a good state of health, to which you can well attest?” His words became cruel, insulting. “Have you found my vigor wanting, madam, that you must take another husband, spreading yourself beneath him to sample the delights he might give you?”
Shanna stared at him aghast, and Ruark laughed caustically.
“Might, madam. I said might. Mayhap ‘twould be your lot to wed some well-named but poorly able lord and spend the rest of your nights yearning for a real man. Or would you beckon me then to please you when your fine lord cannot?”
The bright hue of Shanna’s cheeks and the flashing of her eyes gave mute evidence to the effect of his savage, cutting words.
“You beast!” She snarled the words slowly, raising her quirt as if she would lay it across his face. “You would set me to your ends and deny my say in the matter. You are frivolous when there is little to be lost by you. You could as well flee and leave me fat-bellied with child!” She tossed her head away from his hand. “As men are, you are free to your every whim.”
“Free!” Ruark gave a derisive snort. “Nay, madam, I am a bondslave, and if my master should choose to sell me away, I would have little choice in the matter.” He leaned close before her now, and his voice rose as he chafed under the lash of her words. “And flee? Be a renegade all my life? Madam, let me assure you I will not!”