Page 76 of Storm of Desire
He flipped the bedroll open, grateful for the oiled sealskin that kept it all dry, and rolled it out, while flames licked hungrily at the small pile of wood in the grate. "I'll give you a couple of hours sleep before we need to rejoin the road. Hopefully the rain will have died down bythen."
"You're angry withme."
He paused, leaning forward on his knuckles. It wasn't as if the ring meant anything anymore, but... he'd still had hope. "You gave it away, like it didn't evenmatter."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know it was your grandmother's. I know I promised you I'd give it back toyou—"
"I don't want the fucking ring back, Árdís." He shoved to his feet, his temper spilling through him. He'd been holding on to it for days, and today had only pushed him further over the edge. "I want it on your finger, where it damned wellbelongs."
She ignoredthat.
"I had no choice," she cried. "What would you have had me do? He wasn't going to allow us to leave withoutit."
"I hadgold!"
"He didn't want gold!" Her face lit with beautiful fury. "He didn't even truly want the ring. He wanted to repay my father for overthrowing him, and I was the only option he had of restoring hispride."
Haakon drew upshortly.
"He was trying to get in my head, damn it." She turned and took three sharp steps, her fingers curling into claws. "Searching for a way to get at me. And there you were, just desperate to give him an excuse to hurt you! I had to get you out of there before you gave him any sign you might challengehim."
"So it's my fault?" He stepped in herpath.
"No!" She raked her fingers through her hair. "What do you want me to say? Why does it even matter? I made a choice between the ring and you, and I choseyou. Do you think it didn't hurt me to give it away?" One hand splayed over her chest, pressing the fabric tight across her breasts, as if she felt forit.
Those gloriousbreasts.
He refused to lookdown.
No, she was not going to tempt her way out of thisone.
"I don't know," he shouted back. "I don't know if you give a damn about me, or my ring, or any of this. I don't know why you left me. I don't know whatyou—"
"I toldyou—"
"You've told me nothing," hesnapped.
Her eyes turned wide with hurt. "Why are youyelling?"
"Because I missed you so fucking much it hurt to breathe." It came out choked. "You left me; you gave my ring away; you push me and pull me, and tear me in two. Do you even care? Do I even mean anything toyou?"
"Of course you do." Her mouth worked. "I loved you. I-I...."
Loved.
Like an arrow straight to the chest. "Do you even know what that wordmeans?"
Árdís glared at him. "I'm not going to continue to argue, if you're not going to listen to a word I say." She began to strip her wet cloak off, and draped it over the chair. No, tossed it. The movement made the wet wool of her tunic press tightly against her breasts. "Or denigrate me forit."
Oh, yes. He wasn't the only one feeling the bite of anger. And seeing her like this stirred his blood in ways only she evercould.
"You're just saying that because you're losing theargument."
Her glare was a potent thing, but then her expression suddenly shifted. Turned devious. Árdís bit her lip. "WasI?"
"Don't you dare," he warned, as she took a step towardhim.
"Why not? You're thinking about it. I'm thinking aboutit."
