“Not like that,” she said, hating that her voice quivered. “Not in bed.”

She held her ground as he moved toward her, came close enough to touch her.

“Yes, I am,” he said softly. “That’s the way I was. That’s the way I could be again.” He shook his head as he raised his hand, his fingertips touching her hair. “I want to be your lover. I chose to be your lover. That makes all the difference. Being in bed with you is like soaring on a sweet wind. I chose to be your lover, Marian . . . just as you chose to be mine.”

She threw her arms around him and held on, warmed by his embrace when his arms circled her. She gave herself a few moments to enjoy being with him before she asked, “Is this going to cause trouble between you and Luthvian?”

His lips brushed her temple. “There’s always trouble between me and Luthvian. This is just another piece.”

She nodded, not sure what to say to him. “There’s steak pie for dinner. Merry brought it up a little while ago.”

“Then why don’t I open a bottle of wine and—”

He stiffened. When he stepped back from her, his eyes were hot with temper, on the borderline of wild. He bared his teeth and snarled softly.

Mother Night.

“Did you think you could hide it from me? Did you think I would have let those men into our home, would have left you alone with them when you’re vulnerable?”

“I wasn’t vulnerable,” she protested. “It just started.” And she hadn’t thought he’d be able to catch the scent of moon’s blood when there was barely a hint of it yet. Before he could start roaring, she spun around, opened a drawer, withdrew the six pieces of parchment she’d prepared as a joke, and held them out. “Here.”

He took the pieces of parchment and looked at them, then frowned in puzzlement. “A certificate for fussing? What’s—” He read it through. His eyes still held the heat of temper when he looked at her, but his mouth was curving into that lazy, arrogant smile. “This entitles me to twenty minutes of fussing with no snarls or grumbles from you?”

“Yes,” Marian said warily, wondering if she should mention it was intended as a joke. A fluttery feeling filled her stomach when his smile got lazier, more arrogant.

He handed back one piece of parchment and vanished the other five. “I’ll redeem this one now.”

“What? But—”

“Uh-uh,” he said, leading her over to a chair. “No snarls, no grumbles. Says so in your very own handwriting.”

“But—”

His mouth covered hers. When he finally stepped back, whatever she’d been about to say didn’t seem important anymore.

He laughed. “You should see your face. Such a grumpy little witch.”