Nothing Else Matters by Susan Sizemore

been a private chamber made her forget any sense of wonder or dread at having
    to share the room with Stian of Harelby. Since this was now her home, she decided, she might as wel unpack.
    “Come here,” Stian repeated as she picked up an inlaid box.
    Annoyance tightened in her as she looked around for a flat surface that would do. “We’l have al our lives to couple,” she told her husband. She decided the smal ivory and ebony set would not take up too much room on the little table by the head of the bed.
    Stian sat up as she put the box down. “What is that thing? This is my room. What are you doing, mouse?”
    She might have answered him politely if he had not cal ed her mouse. The word pricked her painful y so she ignored him and continued. She careful y
    unwrapped the layers of oiled cloth and soft kidskin from her three precious books. These were her treasure, one she thought a far better dowry than the lands her father had presented to the lord of Harelby. This was a marriage gift she could both have and share, though she doubted her surly husband had any interest in reading.
    He wanted to go hunting with his friend or, once that pleasant diversion was canceled, to bed her to pass the time. “I wish you’d gone hunting,” she said as she passed where he sat to reach the shelf.
    He was standing by the time she’d careful y placed her books beside the one already there. He put his hands on her shoulders as she turned. “My father ordered me to give him grandsons,” he told her.
    She confronted his hard hands and annoyed expression with an effort to be reasonable. “You are a dutiful son, my lord, but I would—”
    “I’d rather take you on the bed. Up against the wal wil do if you won’t lie down.” He pushed her backward as he spoke until her shoulders were pressed against the thick tapestry.
    Eleanor shoved against his chest. It was no more effective than trying to move a mountain. “You crude…vile…”
    “I’m a dutiful son.” His gaze never left hers as he suggested, “We could use the floor.”
    The cold indifference of his tone should have frightened her. It sent hot anger through her instead.
    “Or the table in the hal ? Or a cave?” she asked as he pressed her against the wal . “Have you no decency?”
    “None. I can take you where and when I wil . You are my wife,” he reminded her.
    “Aye,” she agreed hastily. “But is once a day not enough to satisfy your lust?”
    “Not when I’ve nothing better to do.”
    “That’s al I am to you then, husband? A way to pass the time?”
    Stian didn’t know why he was bothering to argue with the mouse. Or why her words disturbed him. Women were to be enjoyed. That was what his father
    was doing with his wife right now, so why should he not do the same? Though when his mother had been alive, there had been more to do than hunt and
    bed the castle women.
    In truth, he felt no particular urge to take the mouse just now, on the bed or the floor or against the wal . It was just…something to do. And a way to stop her from rearranging his room, invading his one private place in the castle. He knew that he could be roused and have her beneath him quickly enough, which would pass no more than an hour. Then after they coupled, she’d probably just go back to unpacking.
    “Wel ?” she asked.
    He didn’t know how long they’d been standing with their gazes and wil s locked. He did take a step back but snagged his arm around her waist when she
    would have moved past him. “Hold,” he ordered, drawing her against him. “Are you a mouse or a terrier?”
    “Neither, my lord,” was her cold reply.
    “Are you obedient or scolding then?”
    “Meek as milk, my lord,” she answered, lowering her gaze from his. Then she looked up at him from beneath thick, dark lashes. “About half the hours of the day, that is.”
    It was true. Her moods seemed as changeable as the weather on the moors. He tried not to smile at her words. He tried to sound