A mood? The Darkness knew, females had them. But he felt her yearning toward him at the same time she tried to pull back. What did that mean?

Maybe that clash with Roxie had shaken her up more than he’d thought. Or maybe, after such a public display of her commitment to him, she was wondering about the strength of his commitment to her.

Only one way to find out.

Lucivar closed the ring box and vanished it. Then he spread his wings and glided down to the eyrie. As he went through the kitchen, he snatched a nutcake cooling on the metal racks, took a large bite, then paused and looked around. Were they having a party tonight that he’d forgotten about? She seemed to be cooking enough to feed ten people to the stuffing point.

He winced. A husband should remember if that many people were coming to dinner. Then he cheered up. Maybe she’d planned to invite some of the women from Riada to a female gathering—a couple of hours to eat and chat about . . . whatever it was women talked about when they booted men out of the room. Since he was usually gone for at least part of the day, she wouldn’t necessarily have mentioned it.

He winced again. He hoped she hadn’t mentioned it. Even if it had nothing to do with him, he should have remembered.

Maybe that’s why she was moody. Nerves, most likely, about hosting her first gathering—which would make it clear to anyone who wasn’t a fool that Marian was acknowledging her place as his Lady.

And what better way to celebrate a marriage announcement than with a party?

Grinning, he stuffed the last of the nutcake into his mouth and went out to the garden.

The lift in his own mood suffered a blow when he saw her gently touch the petals of one of the spring flowers. She looked so sad, so lost.

“Marian?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Oh. I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“I want to talk to you about something.”

He watched her pale as he walked toward her. Something was wrong here, something that pricked at him in warning, but he couldn’t sense the source.

“What?” Her voice came out a tortured whisper.

He looked away for a moment. He’d thought this would be easy, just a formal step to acknowledge what was already between them.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, watching her eyes, trying to read what he saw in them. “I want to make a life with you, have children with you if you want them, see the seasons turn with you. I want to marry you, want you to be my wife as well as my friend and lover. I want to be your husband.”

She shook her head and took a step back.