anything. Didn't he believe her?
'I'm not jesting,' she whispered. 'I'm really supposed to kill you.'
'How?' he asked, sounding incredulous. 'You can't even hold a dagger in your hands.'
'I mentioned that very problem to the messenger,' she muttered. 'I was told to find a way. The more you doubt my word, Royce, the more convinced I am that it wouldn't be too difficult.'
'Nicholaa, you couldn't kill me.' He sounded pleased with that evaluation. He gently brushed the hair away from her temple. It felt like a caress from a husband who cared about his wife.
God, she was tired. Surely that was the reason her eyes clouded with tears again. 'Just when I was beginning to think the war was finally over and we could all live in peace together, this had to happen.'
'The war is over,' he said. 'You're worrying over nothing.'
'You don't believe me, do you?'
'I didn't say that.'
'You didn't have to,' she cried out. 'I have proof, husband.'
'Do you mean the dagger?'
'No,' she answered. 'My proof will arrive at dawn. Three men are coming. If I haven't killed you by then, they're going to kill both of us. Then you'll know I was telling you the truth.'
He leaned down and kissed her brow. 'You really are telling me the truth, aren't you?'
'How could you believe I'd make up something this vile?'
She moved away from his shoulder so she could glare at him. She was surprised to see how furious he was, for his voice had been mild when he spoke to her. She lost her frown immediately and nodded with satisfaction. It was high time the man showed a proper reaction.
Lord, she was relieved, too. His anger actually comforted her. He would know what to do. He'd take care of this threat. She snuggled up against him and let out a loud, unladylike yawn. 'Now do you see why I thought we should leave tonight?'
'Nicholaa, I want you to start at the beginning,' he ordered. 'Tell me exactly what happened.'
She didn't argue with him. When she finished her explanation, he was squeezing her hard around her waist. He was frowning like a devil, too. The scar on his face had turned stark white again. He looked like a warrior now, even though he wasn't dressed in battle gear.
The strangest feeling came over her. God's truth, he made her feel safe. How long had it been since she'd felt that way? Nicholaa couldn't remember.
She didn't even worry about leaving now. Royce would protect her no matter where they were.
'What are you going to do?' she asked.
'I'll take care of it, Nicholaa.' She nodded.
'Stand up now and let me help you get your clothes off,' he said quietly.
'Why?'
He ignored the startled tone in her voice. 'So you can sleep, wife. I'll wait until your hands have healed before bedding you.'
'Thank you.'
'Hell, you don't have to sound so relieved.'
His surly tone of voice told her she'd offended him. She guessed she'd dented his pride. She stood up and faced him. 'Royce, the first time between a husband and a wife should be special, shouldn't it?'
She was blushing like a virgin. She couldn't look him in the eye, either. Her gaze was centered on the floor. He couldn't resist goading her just a little. 'But you've been married before, remember? You've had a child, too, or have you forgotten Ulric?'
'Of course I remember Ulric,' she rushed out. 'I was just trying to explain that, with or without experience, the first time between us should be…'
'Special?' he said when she didn't continue. She nodded. 'I would rather not have to worry about someone putting a dagger between your shoulder blades while you're… otherwise occupied.'
He untied her belt, tossed it aside, and then stood up. He tried to detach himself from what he was doing as he pulled the bliaut up, over her head. The rest of her clothes followed, save for the thin-as-air chemise. A heavy silence fell between them. She stood as still as a statue. She didn't feel like one, though. Royce was already regretting his rash promise not to bed her.
'You didn't mention your own shoulder blades,' he remarked in an attempt to ease the tension building inside him. 'You could well be the first to feel the enemy's blade.' His voice sounded harsh to him.
She stood before him, her toes curled into the rushes, her head bowed low. Lord, she was even more beautiful without her clothes on. Her legs were so incredibly long. Her skin was smooth all over, and in the flickering candlelight she looked like a golden goddess from magical days.
The provocative scoop-neck chemise left little to his imagination. The swell of her full breasts pressing against the embroidered fabric made his chest tighten.
Yes, she was beautiful. And she belonged to him.
'You wouldn't let anyone hurt me.'
'What did you say?'
'I said you wouldn't let anyone hurt me.'
It took all his discipline to concentrate on the conversation. 'No, I wouldn't.'
'Why are you frowning? Are you angry with me?'
He shook his head and almost laughed. The innocent had absolutely no idea what thoughts were going through his mind. He took a deep breath and then put his bride to bed. He covered her with the blankets and turned back to the door.
'Nicholaa?' he called over his shoulder.
'Yes?'
'When we reach my holding,' he said, stressing his ownership. 'I won't allow any more lies. From the moment we take up residence, you'll always tell me the truth.'
'Are you thinking I lied about the woman telling me to kill you?'
'No,' he answered. He turned and stared at her.
'I'm talking about the other lies you've told me. They end when we reach Rosewood. Give me your promise.'
She didn't want to promise him anything. 'What lies do you mean?' she asked, trying to find out exactly what he knew.
'It isn't necessary for me to explain,' he countered. 'Just promise me, Nicholaa.' A hard glint came into his eyes as he waited for her to give him what he wanted.
'Royce, understand this,' she whispered. 'I will do whatever I have to do to protect Ulric and Justin. That promise I give you now.'
'Is lying to me your way of protecting them?'
'In the past, when I-'
'I'm talking about the future,' he interrupted. 'From the minute we reach Rosewood,' he added. 'No more lies.'
She took a deep breath. 'All right,' she whispered. 'I promise you there won't be any more lies.'
Royce turned around and started for the door again. He'd already dismissed his wife from his thoughts. There was much to be done before dawn. He had reached for the door latch when Nicholaa called out to him.
'Royce, my father always kissed my mother good night. It was a family tradition.'
He turned back to her. 'And?'
'It's a Saxon tradition, too.' Another minute passed. 'I was just wondering if it was a Norman tradition, too.' She was trying to act nonchalant.
He shrugged his answer.
'Traditions should be continued, Royce, especially during unsettled times.'
'Why?'
The man wasn't catching on. It was apparent he still didn't understand she wanted him to kiss her. 'So they won't be forgotten,' she muttered.
'Nicholaa? Do you want me to kiss you?'
