“Go away,” she told me fiercely. “Get out of here.”
“I can’t,” I panted. “I haven’t the strength to climb back up, and the rope isn’t long enough to reach to the base of the wall.”
“You can’t come in,” she repeated stubbornly.
“Very well.” I seated myself on the windowsill, one leg inside the room, the other dangling out the window. Wind gusted past me, stirring her night robe and fanning the flames of the fire. I said nothing. After a moment she began to shiver.
“What do you want?” she demanded angrily.
“You. I wanted to tell you that tomorrow I am going to the King to ask permission to marry you.” The words came out of my mouth with no planning. I was suddenly giddily aware that I could say and do anything. Anything at all.
Molly stared a moment. Her voice was low as she said, “I do not wish to marry you.”
“I wasn’t going to tell him that part.” I found myself grinning at her.
“You are intolerable!”
“Yes. And very cold. Please, at least let me come in out of the cold.”
She did not give me permission. But she did stand back from the window. I jumped lightly in, ignoring the jolt to my arm. I closed and fastened the shutters. I walked across the room. I knelt by her hearth and built up the fire well with logs to chase the chill from the room. Then I stood, thawing my hands at it. Molly said not a word. She stood sword straight, her arms crossed on her chest. I glanced over at her and smiled.
She didn’t smile. “You should go.”
I felt my own smile fade. “Molly, please, just talk to me. I thought, the last time we spoke, that we understood each other. Now you don’t speak to me, you turn away …. I don’t know what changed, I don’t understand what is happening between us.”