“I tarnish nothing. I keep what is mine and Snow is mine,” Tarass said, challenging the man.
“Prove it,” Polwarth said, returning the challenge.
“Fetch her,” Tarass ordered sharply and the warrior to his right hurried out of the keep.
Snow gripped her sister’s hand, shock and that twinge of joy turning to dismay and apprehension. Why was he doing this? Why was he claiming she belonged to him? Why reveal secrets that would force James to demand he marry her? Something he had made clear he had no wont to do.
Silence reigned while after a few moments a young lass entered the Great Hall and came to a stop beside Tarass.
“Tell them, Nettle. Tell them what you saw when you entered Snow’s bedchamber that morning.”
Nettle didn’t hesitate to obey. “I saw Lord Tarass naked in bed with Snow.”
Gasps circled the hall and once again Snow squeezed her sister’s hand.
“Is this true?” Willow whispered in Snow’s ear.
Snow nodded, though didn’t explain that it was all innocent and nothing happened between Tarass and her, since it would make no difference. He had been in bed naked with her and that was all that mattered.
“It matters not to me that you soiled her,” Lord Polwarth said. “I will wed Snow and keep her safe from the likes of a barbarian.”
“Even with my seed planted firmly in her belly?” Tarass asked, taking several steps toward the man.
Snow was shocked at his words, since there was no chance of that.
“You are a crude man,” Polwarth accused.
“I am a man who keeps what is mine and I will repeat it until you finally grasp it. Snow belongs to me,” Tarass said, claiming it so once again.
“Then step forward, wed her, and keep her from ruin,” the cleric challenged with a firm voice.
“That is madness. You cannot mean to give this kind and beautiful woman to the devil himself,” Polwarth protested.
“There is a witness who saw that Snow gave herself to the devil and now she belongs to him,” the cleric said, pointing to Tarass.
“The lass lies for the Lord of Fire,” Polwarth accused.
“I do not lie,” Nettle said, affronted. “I speak what I saw. I speak the truth.”
“Do you swear by all that is holy and your heavenly soul that you speak the truth?” the cleric asked.
“I would not lie and condemn my soul to hell,” Nettle responded.
“There you have it,” the cleric said. “The lass protects her soul and speaks the truth. No more proof is needed. Give yourself pause, Lord Polwarth. What would your friends think of you marrying a woman who gave her body and soul to the devil?”
Snow clung tightly to her sister’s hand, listening as her reputation was shredded with nothing more than a few words and with only parts of it being the truth. While she thought of speaking up, of defending herself, it wouldn’t matter. That Tarass had been in bed with her was wrong in itself. That he’d been naked only made it worse.
She jumped when she felt a hand grab her arm and powerful fingers close tightly around her soft flesh.
“You will be my wife?” Tarass asked.
Why… was on her lips, but never slipped past them.
“I will not be a witness to this travesty,” Lord Polwarth exclaimed and stormed out of the keep.
Snow stood beside Tarass, his grip firm on her arm as if he never intended to let go of her, and it wasn’t long before she heard the cleric begin the ceremony. She was surprised when Tarass spoke the vows without hesitation and even more surprised when she did the same.
When the cleric pronounced them husband and wife, Snow thought herself dreaming. She had woken today prepared to exchange vows with Lord Polwarth and here she was wife to Tarass, the Lord of Fire. She was still wondering how it had happened.
“We leave for home now,” Tarass announced.
Willow protested. “You cannot wed my sister and leave without any further words of explanation.”
“I can and I will, and I owe no explanation,” Tarass said. “This is done. Snow is mine now and she will obey me.”
Slatter laughed. “Good luck with that. There isn’t a Macardle sister that obeys her husband and I for one would have it no other way.”
Willow turned a smile on her husband.
“The marriage document must be changed, signed, and sealed,” the cleric reminded. “And I wouldn’t mind a drink while seeing it done.”
“Nettle, help my wife with whatever she needs and see that the men secure her belongings,” Tarass commanded.
“Aye, my lord,” Nettle said.
“Snow,” he said, his hand releasing the grip he had on her arm to drift down and take hold of her hand. “Take time with your sister. We leave after the documents are signed.”
“Why?” she asked softly.
“Because I am your husband and you now have no recourse but to obey me,” he said, authority ringing in his every word.