But Guinevere continued to shake her head. "I cannot." She murmured.
Alexander's face tightened. Must she persist in riling him? Provoking him as she wished? Did she expect him to beg? He had already asked her father for her hand, and marry him, she would.
He stepped back, creating an insignificant distance between them. "You can and you will," he declared. "Because this very day, next week, we shall be wed at dawn. I command it."
Silence. Then, "This is the reason I fear to marry you." Her voice echoed. Alexander flinched, his hands dropping to his sides.
What reason did she have to fear him? What had he done that was so unforgivable? He had provided for her every need, given her gifts she never even requested. Countless times he had longed to hold her, to kiss her, to simply be with her, yet he had refrained himself for her sake, refusing to pursue his own desires that he would not trouble her. He was utterly desperate for her, yet she feared him?
