Niabheara frowned at him, then backed away, looking almost comically mistrustful. "Sweetness, I lied to you. You told me that. You were just angry. Understandably so."

"Yes, but it should have only been about the lying," Marcello said. "And I shouldn't have taken it to such extremes. I was talking with the Queensman about Goneril and explaining how things are back home, that girls can't take lovers, and are expected to be entirely faithful to husbands they might not even love, and trying to explain to him what Goneril is choosing, exactly, and what happened to Mira, and how dreadfully silly it all is, and I realized that I've been holding you to those same expectations."

She shook her head stubbornly. "It's hardly the same thing. Besides, I love you. I want you to be happy. If this is what you want, it's not as if--" She broke off abruptly, as if she had suddenly forgotten where she meant to go with this declaration. "I don't want you to be hurt any more."

"I don't, either," Marcello replied. "But what I understood talking to the Queensman is that...well, apart from the fact that Dierdre is a woman, people are expected to take lovers here. It's not that same as at home, and I was brought up with one set of expectations, and you with another. And I always hated those expectations when they were applied to me, but then I held you to them, even though people here don't feel the same way about it. I mean, of course I had to be angry that you were lying. And that you didn't discuss it with me. But I should have understood better."

Niabheara shifted, her head bowed. "This is all ridiculous, since I don't e'en want to take another lover. I just want you. It isn't going to happen again, so you don't have to worry about and we needn't discuss it."

He reached for her hands, stepped closer, and kissed the crown of her head. "I just want you, too," he said. "But if the need to discuss it arises, we can, all right?"

Niabheara sighed and gave up. "It won't come up again," she repeated, resting her head against him once more. "I . . . I tried to explain this to you then, but . . . " She struggled to come out with the right words. "But . . . I think we were both angry and upset and afraid and it didn't come out at all right. I tried to tell you. The only way you could hurt me is if you didn't love me at all. And you were acting as if you didn't. Or as if you thought I didn't love you and . . . I really didn't know what to say."

"I'm not sure what I thought, either," Marcello replied. "But I was scared you didn't love me, or...well. Not that you didn't love me, but that you didn't love me as much as I hoped. That you might leave me to the side or forget about me or something dreadful like that." He smiled. "None of it makes sense now. I think that's what I'm trying to say."

She chuckled, for the first time. "You won't let yourself be forgotten; that's one of the things I love about you. You know how much you're worth."

Marcello grimaced. "Well, I..." He looked down for a moment. "I suspect I act like I'm worth more than I think I am," he replied.