In Which Nora Finds the Most Beautiful Pain

August 31, 1169

"My lord?" Nora shut the wine cellar door and made her way to the wall by which Lord Severin sat. An open bottle of wine sat at his feet and a few others littered the floor. She hoped most of them had been there beforehand; she figured the dusty old room didn't get cleaned often. "My lord, are you all right?"

Lord Severin picked up the bottle and took a quick drink. He placed it back on the floor, then looked up and sighed. "I thought you would've left hours ago."

Nora shook her head. "My children are at my sister's tonight; I figured you and yours might need me here a little later."

"In that case, I thank you." He nudged the floor with the toe of his boot and slouched. "Do you remember when you were a child and ten minutes seemed like an eternity?"

"Those were the days," she mused in bittersweet half-indulgence.

Lord Severin sniffed in agreement. "If only those twelve days could have dragged on like they would have thirty years ago. It's already dusk on the thirty-first and I've yet to make up my mind." He took another drink, then hung his head. "I set up an archery target today. I divided it into eight segments and labeled each for one of Roderick's noblewomen. The plan was to shoot blindly and let the arrow choose a woman for me, but each time I tried, all I could think was 'No, not her'. I must have taken a hundred shots; I must have rejected each woman a dozen times.

"The worst part is that I had good reasons for all of them."

"Have you asked your children what they think?" She knew it wasn't the most helpful piece of advise, but it was the best she could do on such short notice; it was an alien situation, after all.

Resigned, he nodded. "They're of the same opinion. If any of them had expressed any preference, then I... well, no matter. The point is that this is still just as much of a dilemma as it was in the beginning--obviously. You knew that. Sorry, I'm a little drunk."

Nora glanced toward the bottle on the ground. "I don't doubt it."

He followed her gaze, then breathed a hollow laugh. "Well, I guess this is the end." He picked up the bottle and held it up to her before taking another swig. "Tonight I'm here drinking because I don't know who Roderick's going to choose for me, and tomorrow night I'll be here drinking because I do know."

"At least you've got the supply," she muttered, taking note of barrels upon barrels the room held.

"For now," he agreed. "What am I going to do, Nora?"

She wished she knew what to tell him. For twelve long days she'd braced herself for the pain of seeing him married, and she'd finally reached the point where she thought she might be able to cope if he was happy--she hadn't seen him happy in so long. Now, she didn't think she'd see him happy again. Defeated, she dropped to her knees and sat herself down on the floor. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Severin."

Shaking his head, he slid off his seat and dragged himself toward her. "For what? You've done nothing wrong."

He placed his hand on her side pulled her nearer. He was so warm--so near. It had been a long time since she'd been touched that way. She closed her eyes in brief contemplation, then reopened them and locked them with his. The shared gaze was painful in the most beautiful of ways. "I just want you to be happy."

He continued to stare--perhaps he'd had enough wine to slow his basic processing. "You're so beautiful."

"You're so drunk." It was a disappointment, but it was still a fact--he never would have said that sober.

"Not as drunk as I wish I was." He pulled her into his lap, then grabbed the wine bottle and placed it in her hands. "Join me? I think we could both use some company."

There was no denying that. She placed the bottle to her lips and tipped it back.

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