"Good," Marcello said. "I would be traumatized if you were somehow still disgusted by it." He gave her a thoughtful look. "Do you...do you have a, you know, a type? Is that uncomfortable for me to ask?"

"A type of what?" she asked, curious. Immediately after the words left her mouth, she realized exactly what he was talking about. She dove for the pillow again, to have something in which she could bury her face, if necessary. "Ah. No. I never really thought about it? Up until recently, boys were just bothersome."

Marcello laughed. "There weren't things you liked, and things you didn't?" he asked. "What about girls?" He gave her a hesitant look. "I mean, if you don't mind my asking about that."

"It . . . it doesn't bother me so much now." She shrugged. "Boys I could take or leave. The only ones I was e'er really interested in were the ones who were nice to me. Which sounds so childish--nice to me." She chuckled. "It was . . . easier, somehow, to be attracted to women. I really didn't think about it. It just sort of happened. Of course I was trying to stop it happening, so . . . " She looked at him carefully. "Other-you said that I was not his type."

"Ah..." Marcello looked sheepish. "He wasn't really lying, exactly. But I think when you fall in love with someone, that all changes. I can't imagine anyone being as utterly gorgeous to me as you are now. But you aren't the sort of woman I would stop and stare at on a street, no. Alessia, when she was younger, was exactly my type, which was extremely awkward, seeing as she was supposed to be my stepmother."

She nodded eagerly. "Aye, yes, exactly. Well. Not about the stepmother thing, but the other part. That's how it always was for me. If I was the slightest bit fond of someone, it didn't matter who they were or what they looked like, I would sort of . . . follow them around, from a distance." She glanced down, ruefully. "I expect I made a lot of men uncomfortable. A ten-year-old countess they could neither encourage nor tell off."

Marcello kissed her cheek. "People actually DID tell me off," he replied. "Which didn't always help. Sometimes it just made me bolder."

"I know," said Niabheara, perhaps a touch too dryly.

He gave her a hurt look. "Are you complaining?" he asked.

"Bit late to complain now. You have me." She curled around him. "Anyway, I like you."