In Which Nora Asks to Be Asked

September 1, 1169

"Oh." That explained a lot. Not sure if she had the strength to look at Lord Severin right now, Nora instead focused on desk by the opposite wall. "So... what now, then?"

"That's up to you." She half-expected him to elaborate, but he never did. She wasn't sure whether or not she wished he would.

"I see." The tension in the silence following her last word was beyond palpable. In spite of the fact that she was a grown woman, Nora fidgeted in her seat. She had to say something. She had to look at him.

"Well... what do you want to do?" It seemed like a fair question. He'd only married her because they'd both been too drunk to know any better; as far as she knew, he didn't care for her as anything more than a friend. She loved him--she'd loved him for months now, and admired him for longer--but she didn't want to be with him if he would only keep her around to avoid hurting her feelings.

Severin shrugged. "Personally, I think this could work. We each have what the other needs, and it's a second marriage for both of us, so we wouldn't have any unrealistic expectations of each other. I for one have nothing to lose, but if you do, then I don't want to stand in your way."

I have nothing to lose. For some reason, that didn't sound promising; she wanted some assurance. "Well, do you have anything to gain?"

He took a minute to look her over, then closed his eyes and sighed. "You." Nora frowned; Severin's eyes widened, as if he'd just blurted out some horrible insult he would have preferred to keep to himself. "Not that I want to possess you or anything, of course. Just... well, you're an amazing person. You're clever and beautiful and the world just seems like a better place when you're around."

Ridiculous. Unable to contain herself, Nora snorted. "That sounds like such a cliche."

"Perhaps," Severin admitted, "but maybe cliches are cliches for a reason."

"That is also a cliche."

He tossed back his head, then laughed. "Give me some credit--you must understand that I'm rather hungover right now."

Nora smirked. "You did have a lot to drink last night."

"So did you." He returned the grin, then took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Anyway, I don't expect you to make up your mind right away. Take all the time you need."

"I appreciate that," she acknowledged him, blatantly aware of his fingers curling inward through the gaps between her own, "but I think I know what I want."

Severin raised an eyebrow; apart from that, his expression was unreadable. "In that case, would you mind sharing?"

"Well, it might be nice to be asked first." She flashed him a devious smile and watched as he cringed. "A little more romantic that way, you know? Might almost make up for the drunken ceremony that neither of us can remember."

Chuckling to himself, he laced his arm under her knees and hoisted her onto his lap. "Fair enough. Leonora Wythleit, will you do me the honor of not divorcing me?"

Nora giggled, leaning toward him and throwing her left arm around his neck. His hair was even more lustrous to the touch than it was to the eye. "My lord, I will not divorce you."

"Then stop calling me 'lord'."

Feeling coy, she winked, then granted him a quick peck on the lips--she wouldn't have minded more, but there was no sense getting the tongues involved when they both probably still tasted like the previous night's wine. "Not even in b--?"

She was cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut; funny, she'd never heard it open.

"With all due respect, my lord... what the hell is my sister doing on your lap?"

NEXT CHAPTER: