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the salty wetness from her face. “Say you will be my wife.”
    “But we are wed.”
    “No, no. Not only like that. I want my Merry back.” He cursed his wording when she frowned.
    “My once thin body has been a huge basket for your son. I have endured six years of snickering behind my back—of being on the verge of excommunication. I find it hard to be happy. Look at me. I’m not a girl anymore.”
    “I don’t want a child. I desire this woman standing in front of me—who stared into my eyes, like you just did, and craved my kisses. I want her to beg me to enter her, as I hope you will.” When words wouldn’t suffice, he brushed his lips over hers.
    She let out a tiny gasp of air, put her hands to his neck and kissed him back in a like manner. Again and again, their lips barely brushed, but their eyes locked. The centers of her light hazel eyes darkened and her brows creased. Then she closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
    His tongue thrust in, searching for hers. Playing, he teased and begged. Bed me. I’m bereft . The moan that escaped, he hadn’t heard in years. It came from within him. She responded by pulling him closer. He spread his cloak down upon the ground.

Chapter 9
    That was the exact same expression he’d had the night they’d conceived Tom. His eyes were dark with a small crease in the brow above the nose. His lips inched toward hers in the same way. A corner of his mouth turned up with just a hint of a wrinkle that wasn’t there before. A day’s worth of stubble on his upper lip threatened to scratch, just as she remembered. His mouth lingered, waiting for her to meet it again.
    Wait .
    This wasn’t six years past, nor was she a fool. She forced one of the countless past bad days into her mind’s eye. She chose one where her belly was larger than a kettle, heavier than stone, and she lay upon her back in the dead of night. Exhausted, she’d wept and yet still it wasn’t enough. She’d considered ending her miserable existence, but God would be unforgiving and she’d be sent straight to hell along with the small life within her.
    “Merry? Where’d you go?” Thomas cupped a palm to her cheek and searched her face.
    She lowered her eyes and spoke coolly. “Someplace I’ll never forget. Let’s be gone from here. I’m hungry.
    Behind her back, he cursed, and followed her to the inn.
    How could she have let her guard down so? For a moment, she’d believed all things possible; that life held endless cheerfulness. Long ago, she’d sang as she baked pies with the girls and Dame March in Lady Ann’s kitchen, but never again.
    At the door to the inn, she paused and put a hand to his shoulder. “You must stop this. I can’t be what you want me to be. Too much time has passed. I can’t and won’t bear that kind of pain again.”
    He cocked his head. “You don’t want more children?”
    “Oh. God’s blood, you’re a dolt. You understand naught.”
    The noxious smell inside the tavern turned her stomach, she took two steps back, and her arse hit his solid form. “I’ll wait outside.”
    He gripped her upper arm and tugged her further into the room. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. I paid much coin just for you. The horses will rest, you will eat, and have a fine bath.”
    There was no other woman present in the inn, except for the youngster who waited on tables and an ancient in the corner with clear eyes that glistened.
    She tasted bile in her throat and swallowed hard. Oh, God, she needed fresh air. Now. “Could you at least inquire that they open the shutters and let in air?”
    “Some may object. The day still has a chill upon it and a firm breeze blows.”
    “But as a knight, you could insist. I beg you. The smell is—”
    She twisted out of his grasp, fell to her knees outside near the bushes, and her stomach heaved and heaved; a victor in the internal battle of woman over vomit. She moaned and lay down on her back, right there at the entrance, and refused to open her