She smiled at him. "Coming to kiss me good-bye then?"

There went that tic she'd begun to notice. It was in his right cheek and she'd caught sight of it for the first time at the last feast when he abruptly walked over to her and said, "I thought you were behind the b.l.o.o.d.y-oh, forget it!" And just as abruptly walked away.

"No," he ground out, the tic worsening. "I've come to say good-bye."

"You could have done that back there."

He let out a sigh. "You're right. Sorry I bothered."

She watched him turn, heading back to Garbhn Isle. Cranky and rude as always, he was. What was it about her that irritated him so? He was so nice to everyone else.

She bit her lip a moment before she said, "They say you're going to the north with Grandmum's armies."

He stopped but didn't turn around. "I am."

"Will you miss me at all?"

He let out another sigh, more aggravated than the last. "Of course I will." He faced her again. "I'm your uncle and I'll miss you."

"Gwenvael's my uncle. Fearghus. You're not my uncle, eibhear."

"Izzy-"

"You'll never be my uncle."

"I'm not talking about this anymore."

"The way Celyn isn't my cousin."

His silver eyes glinted in the early-morning suns and he snapped, "Going to play that game now are you, princess?"

"He likes me."

"For now. Until he gets what he wants and gets bored."

"He's nice and he's too terrified of Briec to be cruel."

"But if you're in love with him-"

"I'm not."

He tried to hide it, but she knew she saw relief on that infinitely beautiful face. "At least you're going to be smart about it," he muttered.

"He'll never have my heart, eibhear."

"Good-"

"Not like you do."

"Izzy ..." He began to back away from her. "Stop."

"Go to the north, eibhear. Go wherever you want. It won't make a bit of difference. Because when the time is right ... You'll be mine."

"That's it. You're a spoiled brat and impossible to deal with."

"But you love me anyway."

"No, Izzy. I don't. Get it into your thick head already. You're my brother's daughter and that means something with my kin. But, at the end of the day, you're not my problem. Still, try not to get yourself killed, eh?"

Hurt, but not willing to show it, she said, "I'll try to avoid that."

He nodded at her and walked off.

"And don't worry," she told his back. "I wasn't planning on waiting for you."

"Good. You shouldn't."

"I've always felt my virginity should go to someone who actually earns it."

And that's when eibhear tripped over his own feet and went head first into the trunk of a rather large tree.

"G.o.ds dammit!" he roared, gripping his head.

Not inclined to wait around, Izzy quickly spun on her heel and ran to meet with her already moving troops.

Dagmar quickly crawled to the edge of the ridge and lifted her large spectacles to her face. "Dammit! We missed it."

"Mhhmm?"

Gwenvael's arm went around her waist and he began kissing her lower back. "This is your fault," she accused, trying to ignore the feel of his mouth against her bare skin.

"Probably." He moved lower. "But do you really mind?"

"Yes!" she lied.

"Liar."

His tongue began to trace the lines of his Claiming mark. Dagmar's eyes crossed and she lowered the extra spectacles before she dropped them.

"You make the worst spy," she accused.

They'd come up there to watch Baron Lord Craddock's wife entertain herself with one of Annwyl's soldiers. Yet Dagmar had been overwhelmingly delighted when it turned out her liaison was with a local pig farmer who, she'd heard from Morfyd, had a strange affection for his merchandise and rarely bathed.

Unfortunately when things began to turn interesting between the farmer and her ladyship and strange snorting sounds began to be used-by both-Gwenvael had completely distracted her ... several times.

How was she to get anything done when he kept doing that to her?

"Don't blame me because you can't keep quiet." He kissed and licked his way up her back. "I think it was that last scream that frightened them off. Now aren't you sorry I didn't gag you as I suggested?"

"If you gag me, I won't be able to scream for help."

He nipped her shoulder and dug his hand into her hair, turning her head so he could take her mouth. His kiss was long and lingering, and she relaxed into it, letting him take what he wanted from her.

Pleasure and happiness-at one time she'd never dared to hope for these. Now she had more than she knew what to do with.

He rolled her to her back, his hands sliding up her sides and to her arms. As if time didn't matter, his kiss went on and on while his fingers gently stroked her skin. It wasn't until her arms were pinned over her head that he pulled from their kiss and softly asked, "So what were you and Fearghus talking about earlier?"

Quickly forgetting about the Craddocks and their bitter, unhappy lives, Dagmar sighed. "Nothing much."

He entered her slowly, Dagmar's body arching into his while he planted tiny kisses against her jaw and throat.

"My lovely Dagmar," he murmured. "Such an excellent little liar."

Dagmar's squeal of protest rang out and she kicked and tried to pull her arms away, but Gwenvael refused to release her as he mercilessly tickled her.

"Stop! Stop!"

He did. "What were you talking about?"

"Baron Lord Craddock." She squealed again, kicked harder. "Let me go! You can't do this to me!"

"But I am!" he gasped out. "And I have to say I do enjoy it this way. Every time I tickle you, like right ... here!"

"Stop!"

"Your p.u.s.s.y squeezes me so hard." He groaned. "G.o.ds that feels good."

"Stop! Stop!"

He took his time, but he stopped. "Tell me."

"I'm not lying, you rude b.a.s.t.a.r.d. We were talking about Craddock. Rumor is he's raising an army near the Southland coast."

"And?"

"And what?" She squealed when he tickled her again and spit out the rest when he stopped, "All right! All right! Fearghus wants us to go and find out what really is happening on Craddock's territory. Arrange a truce if we can, plan for war if we can't. But with the wife's obvious indiscretions in play, I hope a war with Craddock will be unnecessary."

Gwenvael frowned. "Fearghus wants me to go as well?"

"He thinks we're an excellent team. Figures I can handle the court and you can handle the merchants and get information from the working girls-which had better be all you get from them."

Using his free hand, he touched his cheek. "And risk this pretty face by upsetting the love of my life? Never." He chuckled when she only smirked at him. "Now ... Is this the first time you two have discussed this little trip of goodwill?"

"Yes." His fingers went at her again and she screamed, "No! No!"

"Well?"

"We talked about it two weeks ago."

"That was around the time I was certain you and Annwyl were up to something. I'd wondered how you'd talked Fearghus into sending that little gift to your father."

"I don't know what you mean."

At this point she was quite aware she was goading him, but when he took her with those long powerful strokes, making her come again and again while tickling her beyond reason, she didn't really care.

Letting out one last shudder, Gwenvael rolled off Dagmar and smiled. "Conniving cow."

She laughed. "I was wondering why you hadn't said anything."

"Why would I? I love watching you work. My brothers don't know what to make of you. And that's just high entertainment for me."

They looked at each other, both breathing hard, exhausted to their bones, and Gwenvael studied her. Dagmar's hair, saturated with sweat, stuck to her forehead and her eyes blinked hard as she tried to focus on his face without her spectacles. He understood now that her mind would never stop turning, never stop planning-and she'd never be happy with a simple life at court.

"I love you, Dagmar. Every plotting, conniving inch of you."

Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of red, but her expression didn't change. She'd never show that he'd embarra.s.sed her with his direct words. Words he would never speak to any other.

"And I love you," she returned simply, the words as unadorned and perfect as she was.

Gwenvael opened his arms and Dagmar moved over, collapsing into them. He stroked his hands down her sweat-covered back, his fingers sliding against the lines of her brand. He did that often, happy and grateful that she wore his mark.

He sighed contentedly and kissed her. "Do you realize that the entire world is at our disposal, Beast?"

"Of course I realize that." Could she sound haughtier? Then he realized that she actually could sound much haughtier. "But we're not supposed to say it out loud. Instead we're supposed to silently recognize the fact and use it to our will until we get everything we want."

Gwenvael sat up and pulled Dagmar onto his lap. His hand cupped her cheek and chin as he looked into her eyes so she could know that every word he spoke-to her-was the absolute truth. "I have everything I want, Dagmar. Everything I could ever want."

Her smile was pure pleasure even as her cheeks reddened more. "Then what's the point of the game if we have everything we could want?"

Gwenvael watched as Lady Craddock stumbled from the bushes, quickly smoothing back her hair and making sure her gown was back in place. Tragically for her, the biggest mistake she'd made was not that she hadn't cleaned off the mud-crusted, man-sized palm prints on the back of her dress. Nor was it her eagerness to bring war to the people she should be trying to protect. No, Lady Craddock's biggest mistake was to focus cruel gossip on the twins. Spreading rumors and lies about the twins being unholy or the products of dark G.o.ds had drawn Dagmar's wrath quicker than anything else could have. Now both royal husband and wife would have to pay the price. And pay they would-later.

"The point?" He kept one arm around Dagmar's waist while he reached into the basket of food and wine Fannie had sent them off with. "The point is entertainment. And do you know what the best part of that entertainment is, my love?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me in excruciating de ... what is that?"

With a wide grin, Gwenvael held up the small set of cuffs and collar he'd snuck into the basket. "What do you think?"

Outraged but laughing, Dagmar desperately tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

"The best part, my sweet Dagmar"-he pinned her to the ground and leered into her smiling face-"is that they'll never see us coming."

Epilogue.