spoke in a much slower vein. “You ordered those women to . . . to . . . grope me. You are going to pay for the humiliation that’s been inflicted on me. Do you honestly think a pat on the head and a pretty dress are going to pacify me?”
He finally understood that the girl was angry with him about the violation of her privacy. Confounded at her ire, Kellen said, “I own you. You are mine to do with as I will.”
“What?” The girl looked amazed. “How do you figure?”
Kellen’s puzzlement grew. No one ever questioned him, and for this tiny girl to do so was as astounding as the blow she’d dealt him. “We are betrothed.”
The girl’s face reflected surprise, then she glanced quickly around. Kellen looked too, but could not fathom for what or whom she searched.
“What is this?” The girl’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The English version of Punked? An improv play? A medieval weekend in the country complete with command performance?”
Now that she spoke more slowly, Kellen understood her words better, but still not their meaning. He tried to explain again, speaking more slowly himself. “You are my betrothed.”
Her face took on a haughty expression, much like the one her sister had always worn. “I see.” She glanced around again, her gaze taking in his knights and the servants staring at her. “As in engaged to be married? To you?”
“Yes, matrimony.” He saw a glimmer of understanding on her face and so tried to explain further. “Your father has paid a dowry, the contract is signed, and we are to be married in five weeks time.”
Her mouth tightened. “And this is your excuse for ordering those . . . those . . . women to violate me?”
“I need no excuse to establish your virginity.”
The girl gaped at him for a moment, her face losing its color, before flooding with red once more. Then she took a step forward, sucked in a breath, and poked a finger in his chest. Again.
“Now you listen here, bucko. Even if we were engaged, which we are not, do you think engaged means owned? Because I don’t think so!”
She walked away, took several audible breaths, then came back, shaking her head. “So let me just make sure I have this straight. You’re saying we’re engaged, right? Isn’t that what this ad-libbing is about?”
Kellen was getting more befuddled. “What?”
“Betrothed.” She spoke slower. “Are we betrothed, you idiot?”
Kellen stiffened. He did not like her tone, nor her name calling, but as they seemed to be making progress, such things could be discussed at a later time. He nodded his agreement.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “So my father paid a dowry? Making it all right and tight?”
“Aye. That is true.”
Her smile thinned. “Well, in that case, I am the one who owns you! You are mine.” She lifted her nose in the air and gave him a condescending look. “Not only have you been paid for, but as the woman I am your superior in almost every way.” She held up a fist. “I am the only one who can ask for directions, have children, and cry in public.” Three fingers went up, one at a time.
“And women live longer! Women are smarter!” Holding up five fingers, she lifted her other hand and continued the count. “And they have better peripheral vision and can load the dishwasher without acting like they’ve been asked to eat horse droppings!”
She shot him a look filled with triumph. “And didn’t the girl’s . . . my father, give you money? A transaction was made, was it not? My family paid for you. I own you. Money is power. The only thing men are better at is peeing standing up! So count them.” She lifted both hands higher to hold up eight fingers. “Eight reasons, and that’s just to start with, so I am the winner and therefore, I own you!”
Kellen could not help the big smile that spread on his face.
“You agree?” she asked.
Kellen nodded slowly, very pleased by the show of intelligence. She could count? Reason?
He finally understood that the girl was angry with him about the violation of her privacy. Confounded at her ire, Kellen said, “I own you. You are mine to do with as I will.”
“What?” The girl looked amazed. “How do you figure?”
Kellen’s puzzlement grew. No one ever questioned him, and for this tiny girl to do so was as astounding as the blow she’d dealt him. “We are betrothed.”
The girl’s face reflected surprise, then she glanced quickly around. Kellen looked too, but could not fathom for what or whom she searched.
“What is this?” The girl’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The English version of Punked? An improv play? A medieval weekend in the country complete with command performance?”
Now that she spoke more slowly, Kellen understood her words better, but still not their meaning. He tried to explain again, speaking more slowly himself. “You are my betrothed.”
Her face took on a haughty expression, much like the one her sister had always worn. “I see.” She glanced around again, her gaze taking in his knights and the servants staring at her. “As in engaged to be married? To you?”
“Yes, matrimony.” He saw a glimmer of understanding on her face and so tried to explain further. “Your father has paid a dowry, the contract is signed, and we are to be married in five weeks time.”
Her mouth tightened. “And this is your excuse for ordering those . . . those . . . women to violate me?”
“I need no excuse to establish your virginity.”
The girl gaped at him for a moment, her face losing its color, before flooding with red once more. Then she took a step forward, sucked in a breath, and poked a finger in his chest. Again.
“Now you listen here, bucko. Even if we were engaged, which we are not, do you think engaged means owned? Because I don’t think so!”
She walked away, took several audible breaths, then came back, shaking her head. “So let me just make sure I have this straight. You’re saying we’re engaged, right? Isn’t that what this ad-libbing is about?”
Kellen was getting more befuddled. “What?”
“Betrothed.” She spoke slower. “Are we betrothed, you idiot?”
Kellen stiffened. He did not like her tone, nor her name calling, but as they seemed to be making progress, such things could be discussed at a later time. He nodded his agreement.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “So my father paid a dowry? Making it all right and tight?”
“Aye. That is true.”
Her smile thinned. “Well, in that case, I am the one who owns you! You are mine.” She lifted her nose in the air and gave him a condescending look. “Not only have you been paid for, but as the woman I am your superior in almost every way.” She held up a fist. “I am the only one who can ask for directions, have children, and cry in public.” Three fingers went up, one at a time.
“And women live longer! Women are smarter!” Holding up five fingers, she lifted her other hand and continued the count. “And they have better peripheral vision and can load the dishwasher without acting like they’ve been asked to eat horse droppings!”
She shot him a look filled with triumph. “And didn’t the girl’s . . . my father, give you money? A transaction was made, was it not? My family paid for you. I own you. Money is power. The only thing men are better at is peeing standing up! So count them.” She lifted both hands higher to hold up eight fingers. “Eight reasons, and that’s just to start with, so I am the winner and therefore, I own you!”
Kellen could not help the big smile that spread on his face.
“You agree?” she asked.
Kellen nodded slowly, very pleased by the show of intelligence. She could count? Reason?
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