He pulled her in closer, and kissed her. "I like you, too," he assured her, softly. "And I could not imagine any woman being any more beautiful than you now."

Briefly she rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I love you too." She looked up at him, curious. "Why did you ask me about that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Was it that, er, obvious?" he asked. "I...I've been thinking a lot about what happened, with you and me and Dierdre. And I feel as if we talked about all the things that hurt us both, but we never really talked about...well, ourselves. About what we love, and how we love, and I suppose when I got to thinking about it, I started to realize that maybe i wouldn't be so angry if you wanted to have other lovers, as long as I understood it better."

Niabheara shrank back again. "I told you. I don't want any other lovers." She was practically mumbling. "That's all done now. It isn't going to happen again."

Marcello sighed, and held a hand out to her. "But I love you," he said. "And I was wrong. I was angry about some things I deserved to be angry about, but I was also jealous in ways I shouldn't have been. And I'm afraid I've hurt you or taken away something you might need. I think we should talk about it."

Niabheara flashed him a sullen, irritated glare. "Look, if we are going to discuss this at the expense of me getting dressed, I'm going back under the covers. I'm cold." She scooted away from him and toward the head of the bed, pulling the pelt up to her chin. "You didn't hurt me. I'm not angry with you anymore. I was wrong, is all. I hurt everyone, and I'm sorry, and I just want that to be done with."

Marcello sat up, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know it feels easier to not talk about it," he said. "But I feel as if it will be easier to put it behind us for real if we talk about it. Not...not the way we've talked about it before. I'm not angry anymore."

Niabheara was silent for a long while. At last she came out from behind her blanket. "All right. Fine. You want to talk about this? Remember when we were quarreling, and I asked you if it would hurt more if I fell in love with someone else and didn't sleep with them, or if I slept with someone I didn't care for at all, and you said you'd rather I fell in love with them because falling in love with someone was something that just happened and that people have no control o'er? That was the fucking wrong answer. I wanted you to say no, it doesn't matter who you slept with, that's just a body, that's just . . . an act, the only thing that would hurt would be if you didn't love me anymore." Her jaw locked. "And I've been so . . . angry about that e'er since. I can't help it. Talking about it just makes me angry all o'er again. Which is why I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to be angry at you anymore."

Marcello went quiet, looking her over, a little more tense than he had been before "I still don't understand that," he replied. "I just...once is a conscious choice, and one isn't. You can't...it's not fair to be angry at someone for something they didn't choose. You can't help it if you love someone."

Once she had had her rant, it seemed, she grew a little calmer. "I didn't ask which was fair. I asked which would hurt more. If you went off and bedded some woman, I wouldn't mind so much, as long as you still loved me. Well. I might mind. If it was because of something I'd done, or hadn't done, that I didn't know and you'd ne'er mentioned to me . . . " Then, in a softer voice, she added, "That is the one thing you have e'er said that really hurt."