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“Will you not go to the church and have them read the banns?”
He said it as if it were her last chance to do as he wished. If he were giving up his pursuit, that should surely please her, but somehow she expected more tenacity from Hugh. “You are a warrior. I have no wish to be betrothed to you.”
He moved so quickly she had no time to run, and she found herself wrapped in his arms. It reminded her of yesterday and made her angry all over again. “I didn’t expect to see you standing so soon after that blow I gave you.” A slight shudder shook him, and that satisfied her need for respect.
But he said, “I never underestimate my opponents twice.”
A warning, and she took it as such. “I never use the same tactics twice.”
He inclined his head. “I will remember. My thanks for telling me.”
Stupid, she railed at herself. As if he needed help with his schemes.
He quelled her attempt to withdraw. “You left too quickly yesterday.”
“Not quickly enough, I’d say,” she answered.
“I would have shown you more.” He pressed a tender kiss on her forehead.
“You showed me quite enough.” She tried to slither down out of his grip, desperate to get away, to get him inside. The high stone wall around the garden might shield them from watching eyes, but anyone could walk through the gate.…
He followed her down. She’d sprouted these plants through the late winter, cherishing them through the last cool nights until they could be placed in the ground, and now this big oaf wanted to roll in them. “Let me up,” she said. “It’s muddy.”
“It rained last night.”
“I know that!” Did men take instruction to be aggravating, or was it bred into them? “And it smells like a stew down here.”
“Um.” He lay on his back and drew her over him. “The stew of love.”
She couldn’t help it; she half laughed at his poor analogy. “You’ll never be a poet.”
“I’ll never be a lot of things, but I will be your lover, my lady.” He pushed off her wimple. “And soon.”
It was getting to be annoying, his habit of removing her hair covering, and she snatched at it. He tossed it away and went to work on her braid. She was still irate about the night before, but she had to work to maintain her animosity. He seemed different this morning, pleased with himself and frolicking in the sunshine.
In the sunshine. “We have to go inside,” she said. “Someone may come by and see you.”
“Um.” He buried his face in a handful of her hair.
“Hugh, please.”
He blew the strands away. “I like it when you beg me.”
“Then I beg you. Let us go in. I’ll help you.”
“I don’t need help. I’m almost well.”
“Aye,” she said doubtfully. She didn’t know how that was possible, but she couldn’t send him on his way just yet. “The nursing nuns come first thing for their medications, you know that, and—”
Catching her chin, he brought her face down to his and kissed her. It wasn’t the nice kiss of the night before, but a bruising kiss, oddly forceful and not in the spirit of playfulness he had previously displayed.
When he let her raise her head, she touched her lips. “What did you do that for? It hurt!”
He didn’t answer but stared at her. “Your mouth is swollen.”
“I would suppose!” She didn’t like his expression; triumph mixed with a rather attentive regard.
Then he rolled her onto her back, one way and then the other. First the straw on the path stuck through her clothing, then her shoulders and hips mashed the small thyme plants and sank into the damp earth. “Have you gone mad? What is wrong—” She heard voices outside the wall, and they were moving this way. “Listen!” He grabbed at her waving hands. “We’ve got to get you to your feet.”
