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Freya turned bright red all the way to her ears. “We did nothing.”

“Ye threw a pillow at me.”

“I—” She stopped. “I did?”

“Ye missed. It hit the bedpost and burst. That’s where the feathers came from, if ye were wondering.” He tilted his head. “Ye were laughing so hard ye fell off the bed.”

“I did nae.”

“Ye have a bruise on yer left hip that says otherwise.”

Her mouth opened. Closed. Her hand went, entirely without her permission, to her left hip, and he watched her find it, and he watched her realize he’d watched.

“Ye’re a villain,” she breathed. “I daenae throw such words around so casually, but ye are a villain to come all the way here and torment me.”

“Aye. And ye’re wearing me ring.”

“I’m nae wearing it. I’m holding it. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Aye, there is. Holding is temporary. Wearing is…” She waved a hand. “Wearing is intent.”

“Ye’ve been holding it on yer finger for two days, lass.”

“It’s a very well-made ring. It doesnae come off easily.”

“It came off easily enough last night when ye tried to put it on the innkeeper’s cat.”

Silence.

“I did what?”

“Ye said he had a noble face.” The man’s mouth twitched. “He didnae agree. Ye have a scratch on yer wrist, if ye want to check that too.”

She did not check. She glared at him with such fury that he half expected the ring to melt.

She stopped an arm’s length away, which was too close, and lifted her chin, which did not help. “What did ye do to me? I ken ye did something to me!”

“Other than our handfasting ceremony?” He considered it. “I can think of nothing else, lass.”

“Daenae be ridiculous. I would never marry a stranger, let alone the Wolf.” She paused, before adding with a stiff nod, “No offense intended.”

Unless ye were out of yer mind, drunk on whisky.

The corner of his mouth moved. It was not quite a smile. It was the shadow a smile cast a moment before it arrived. For one dangerous heartbeat, she wanted to be the one who made it arrive.

“None taken.” He straightened off the doorframe. “But would ye nae have done it even if, say, two strange men were doing their best to make ye sit with them, and ye’d had enough of saying nay?”

The memory surfaced before she could stop it, sharp and unwelcome: two men crowding her table, their hands too familiar, her own voice growing thinner each time she refused them.

She remembered the fear, cold and immediate, and then the stranger’s ring sliding onto her finger like something out of a dream she hadn’t asked for.

“That’s different,” she said, though her voice lacked its earlier conviction. “That was… that was ye protecting me. But that doesnae mean I married ye!”

“Are ye sure, wife?”

Freya opened her mouth to tell him that was absurd. Why would that ever happen? She had no memory of it happening!