She slapped him playfully. “Mayhap the gardener will direct me to those gardens best suited for my study. I like to sketch and paint what I see. So these will not be short visits. And of course I will go to the Hippodrome to see the races. And Ianthe has promised me roots.”
“Roots?” he exclaimed.
“Iris roots,” she explained. “To take back to the Norselands for planting. I already have Judas tree seedlings.”
She could feel him shaking his head at her seeming hopelessness.
“Mayhap I could give you some roots and seeds to plant at your new home, wherever that might be. To remember me by,” she said. And, yea, she was fishing for information.
“Drifa, I need no reminders. This night is firmly planted in my memory.” She could hear amusement and something else in his voice. Something like wonder. “You like Ianthe, do you?” He seemed pleased.
“Actually, I do. Very much. What I don’t understand is why you do not marry her and take her with you when you leave.”
“First off, Ianthe would not want me for husband. Ianthe is one of those romantical souls who waits for love ... a love like she had with her husband. And, truth to tell, I want no wife. I come from a line of evil men. My father, my grandfather, my brothers ... they all abuse their women and children. The fist or the whip suits them better than words, not that their words cannot flail, too.”
Drifa tried to picture a young Sidroc growing up in such a household, and her heart wept for him. Even worse, Runa, who thrived at Stoneheim, would have withered away with such harsh treatment. “You are not the same, Sidroc. Were you not the man willing to suffer marriage to me for the sake of a child?”
Sidroc turned her over on her side to look at him. “I do not think marriage to you would have been such a hardship, Drifa. You took my foolish words to Finn too personally. While I have long maintained marriage is not for me, I had an obligation to my daughter. Finn told you that. And I failed her. In the end, however, ’twas probably for the best that she died. I might have been as harsh with her as my father.”
Now would be the time for Drifa to tell him that Runa was alive. But fear ... not of physical harm ... but that he would take the child from her, held her back. He deserves to know. I will tell him when he returns, she vowed silently. I will convince him that I make a good mother. I will tell him how Runa thrives in a loving household. But I need time to do that. In the meantime, she said, “Sidroc, you are a beast in bed, and you make me do bad things and like them, and insult me way too often, and your teasing tongue is not amusing by half, but you are a good man.”
“That is the most half-arsed compliment I have ever heard.” He squeezed her tight against him in mock punishment.
She smiled up at him. “You would no more strike a woman or child than you would cut off a limb, of that I am convinced a hundredfold.”
He did not appear convinced. Still, he said, “I thank you for that.”
There was silence after that as she lay nestled against him, her face on his chest. His one arm held her loosely about the shoulders, the other was thrown over his head. Soon she felt his breathing slow, and he fell asleep.
For a long time she just lay against him, unmoving, contemplating this brutish man she should hate, but could not. Heartache lay ahead, of a certainty. But she could no more avoid that fate than stop time from passing. She thought of a dozen things she should do. Like slide out of the bed and escape. Like hit him over the head with another pottery jug. Like enumerate in her mind all the bad things about him. But she did none of these.
She fell asleep.
And then they heard bells ...
The sky was already turning gray and the timekeeping candle almost burned out when Sidroc awakened Drifa with a soft kiss. “Wake up, sleeping violet. ’Tis time to leave.”
“Grmpfh,” she said against the crook of his neck.
The vixen was attached to his body like a vine. Her face against his collarbone, one arm holding on to his waist, and a leg twined around one of his thighs like an erotic rope.
There was still another hour before dawn, but she should go back to her apartments before others were about. Though why he should care about her reputation was beyond him.
She had been a total surprise to him. A pleasant surprise. He had asked things of her that were shocking, especially to a virgin, but she’d met him at every step, and challenged him, too. She would make a formidable mate, if he ever wanted one. Which he did not. This was the type of woman that could bring a man to his knees.
“Pssst! Morning glory, wake up lest your guardsman come in and see that delicious, naked arse of yours.”
Her eyes shot open. “Wh-what?”
“ ’Tis time for you to go,” he said.
She glanced around. “ ’Tis still nighttime.”
“But not for long.” He kissed the top of her head and rose, dragging on a pair of braies.
She stared up at his naked form for a long moment, forgetting that she was naked, too. When she did, she jumped up with a little squeal and began to pull on her gunna, which he’d earlier laid across the chest at the foot of his bed. While she donned her apparel, her face flamed. She kept glancing his way, no doubt recalling all they had done throughout the night. He helped her braid her wild hair, and it was oddly satisfying to him.
“Come,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Do you want something to eat or drink afore you leave?”