I have brought you a Black Robe," he said tersely, and nodded toward the waiting priest. "He will pray your God words over us, yes?"
With that, Hunter grasped her firmly by the arm and drew her toward the central fire, never breaking stride despite Loretta's attempts to slow him down.
"I won't marry you!" she cried frantically.
He threw her a look charged with martial arrogance. "You will be my wife, little one. My way or yours, in the end, it will be so."
Hunter drew to a stop before the priest. Loretta focused on the poor man, who was trembling so badly that he was about to drop his Bible. At the moment she was too preoccupied with her own plight to concern herself with his.
"Father," she cried in the most reasonable, calm tone she could muster, "would you please explain to this heathen that a marriage cannot take place without a woman's consent?"
The priest's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He slid horrified eyes to Hunter, and his face blanched. "M-my good young woman, perhaps it would be best to proceed. This man seems uncommonly determined, and I, for one, do not relish the thought of angering him."
Hunter turned to regard her, one dark eyebrow tipped upward in a measuring look. Eyes narrowed in defiance, Loretta jutted her chin and leaned toward him. "What have you done to this poor man? He's terrified! Have you no shame?"
Hunter could have reminded her that there had been a time when she had been equally terrified, but he chose to stay on course. Marriage was his goal, not a contest of tongues. He cast a compelling glare at the Black Robe.
"Pray your words, old man."
The priest licked his lips and glanced fearfully at the crowd of savages around them. Perhaps it was the stark contrast of black robes against pallid flesh, but Loretta thought he was losing color at an alarming rate. Indeed, he looked as if he might faint.
"Say the God words, old man!" Hunter snarled again.
"Don't you dare bully him," Loretta hissed. "He's a man of God, Hunter! You don't at a man of God.
With that, Hunter grasped her firmly by the arm and drew her toward the central fire, never breaking stride despite Loretta's attempts to slow him down.
"I won't marry you!" she cried frantically.
He threw her a look charged with martial arrogance. "You will be my wife, little one. My way or yours, in the end, it will be so."
Hunter drew to a stop before the priest. Loretta focused on the poor man, who was trembling so badly that he was about to drop his Bible. At the moment she was too preoccupied with her own plight to concern herself with his.
"Father," she cried in the most reasonable, calm tone she could muster, "would you please explain to this heathen that a marriage cannot take place without a woman's consent?"
The priest's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He slid horrified eyes to Hunter, and his face blanched. "M-my good young woman, perhaps it would be best to proceed. This man seems uncommonly determined, and I, for one, do not relish the thought of angering him."
Hunter turned to regard her, one dark eyebrow tipped upward in a measuring look. Eyes narrowed in defiance, Loretta jutted her chin and leaned toward him. "What have you done to this poor man? He's terrified! Have you no shame?"
Hunter could have reminded her that there had been a time when she had been equally terrified, but he chose to stay on course. Marriage was his goal, not a contest of tongues. He cast a compelling glare at the Black Robe.
"Pray your words, old man."
The priest licked his lips and glanced fearfully at the crowd of savages around them. Perhaps it was the stark contrast of black robes against pallid flesh, but Loretta thought he was losing color at an alarming rate. Indeed, he looked as if he might faint.
"Say the God words, old man!" Hunter snarled again.
"Don't you dare bully him," Loretta hissed. "He's a man of God, Hunter! You don't at a man of God.
( Catherine Anderson )
[ Comanche Moon ]
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