Coulter, Catherine. Rosehaven / Catherine Coulter.

He was so surprised he let her gown drop. “Saint Andrew’s teeth, what is the matter with you?”

She tried to back away from him but couldn’t move. He had her pressed against the tapestry her grandmother had woven more than thirty years before, a grand hunt with beautifully gowned ladies looking on. She flattened her palms against his chest. “You cannot, Severin, you cannot. Oh, I wish you would leave or fall in a heap with a fever. You have the feelings of a damned toad.”

What was this? She was railing at him? Where was that lovely pallor of hers that showed him clearly that she was afraid of him? What was this nonsense about feelings?

“Of course I have feelings and not those of a toad. When that knife drove into my shoulder, think you not that I felt if?”

“I don’t mean those kinds of feelings. I mean that you don’t care what I feel. You don’t care if I’m upset or frightened or angry.”

“I do care, sometimes. It’s just that a man doesn’t have time to dwell upon such things. Believe me, I’ve remarked upon it every time you look at me pale with fright. I like that. It shows proper respect, aye, a good thing for a wife to feel for her lord and husband.”

She had never doubted his feelings on that, yet she couldn’t prevent her incredulous stare or the shock in her voice. “Are you a brute? Do you like to hurt those with less strength than you have? You like it that I fear

you?’

She had said quite a lot, and all of it annoyed him. How dare she question

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him? Make him sound like a mindless brutal savage? On the other hand a woman who feared a man perhaps could do him in. That woman could putone of her noxious herbs in his ale and make him retch up his guts. He had seen her do it. “Sometimes it is right for you to stand in awe

of me.”

“Leave me, Severin. You anger me now. Go away.”

“You will never give me orders. Now, you will cease your insults.” He reached down to grab the hem of her gown.

She yelled, “It is my monthly flux.”

He straightened stiff as a bow. Her monthly flux? “What lie is this?”

She shook her head, her forehead touching his chest because she still wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t lie. You cannot touch me.”

“The good Lord give me patience. It matters not to me if you bleed. You will bathe me after I take you.”

She looked up at him now, her face pale and set. “If you force me, if you humiliate me, I will never forgive you.”

“You already swore that you wouldn’t forgive me. Do you forget your promises of last night?”

“This is more. This is humiliation and I will not bear it. Leave me

be, Severin.”

“Does your belly cramp?”

“What do you know of that?”

“Damn you, do you think me ignorant?”

“I did not believe men knew of such things and if they did, they didn’t admit to it because they find it distasteful. Men do not want that sort of knowledge about women. They do not care in any case. I have no belly cramps this time.”

“I do not find you distasteful. Come with me. I would bed you. Whenever I wish to bed you, you will come willingly and arrange yourself the way I wish it.” He was ready to sling her over his shoulder when he felt Trist’s claws dig into his leg. He looked down to see the marten climb up his leg, skim as light as a feather over his wounded shoulder,

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and settle himself near his neck. He was mewling loudly. He was rubbing his whiskers against Severin’s cheek.

Severin cursed. “This goes beyond what I will stand,” he said, but he made no move to pull the marten from his shoulder. He looked down at her. Slowly, he released her arms. “Your arms will be bruised. Do you have a potion for that?”

She nodded.

“Good. This is why you believe I have the feelings of a toad? I didn’t comprehend quickly enough that you bled? I didn’t care if you bled while I took you?” He shrugged. “You’re right. A man doesn’t care about that. Why should he? A woman’s blood comes naturally from her body, it makes no difference. I told you before, it isn’t distasteful. If that is what worries you, it shouldn’t.”

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