Marcello gave her a soft look. "But I don't want to be that demanding of you," he said. "I do need you. But sometimes I don't know if that's entirely good. Sometimes I need you because I'm alone here." He shook his head, and smiled. "But I think that's also...I shouldn't be jealous of whatever you feel for her, because it's not the same as what you feel for me."

"I don't mind," she said, almost shyly. "It's nice to be needed." She looked serious. "Sometimes with Dierdre, I almost feel as if, whate'er else we may feel for each other, I will always be the child. I will always be someone she has to watch o'er, to protect. With you . . . I feel I have an equal. Someone I can respect, someone who respects me. Who treats me as a woman."

He turned onto his side, looking her over. "You are a woman," he said. "But I understand, I think, what you mean. "And I think...given a little while longer, I won't feel so dependent. It is nice to feel needed, but sometimes it's not so nice to feel needy." He was quiet. "Would you still want to have another lover?" he asked. "Or is it only Dierdre?"

She went quiet. "I don't know," she said at last. "There's ne'er been anyone I have seriously considered as a lover except for you and Dierdre." She laughed softly to herself. "And Jochy, but by the time I was old enough to have him as a lover, I was wise enough to know better. If he had caught me at fifteen or sixteen winters instead of twenty, he might have talked me into it."

Marcello laughed at that. "I think we are all very fortunate in that, then," he replied, and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. "I...I know it's too late for this," he said. "And not just because of me. And I don't want you to think I'm only saying this because the circumstances have changed, but I am sorry, and I wouldn't take you away from Dierdre."

"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I still hurt you. And Dierdre." She pulled her hand away from him, and used it to rub her neck. It was a long time before her throat relaxed enough to speak normally. "Would . . . would you still want to have another lover?" she asked suddenly.

Marcello shook his head. "No," he replied. "For one, having one lover is complicated enough. Having a wife is completely new to me. I don't...I want you. I love you. And I don't...well, I'm not like you," he pointed out softly. "I don't love men, too. I might feel differently if I did. I think that's the difficulty in all this-- I'm not in love with anyone else, so I don't know how it must feel for you. And I don't know how I would feel if I were in love with two people at the same time."

"As near as I can tell it makes everyone involved feel sick and neglected and miserable," Niabheara said bitterly. "Or maybe that's only when I try it." She went silent. "I think . . . it's too soon to know if I would e'er want another lover or not. We just got married, for goodness' sake; I don't want anyone but you, I can't think of anyone but you. But I don't . . . I don't want to get into the same place where we were before, when I was too afraid to tell you anything."

"I don't either," Marcello replied. "I want us to be able to talk about things, even if it's that one of us has feelings for someone else. We should be close enough to do that. And I didn't-- I don't suppose I was talking about some generic lover. I think I was mostly talking about Dierdre. If you'd still want that with her, if you had the chance."

"I don't know. It's too soon to say. I'm still all shook up inside o'er how it ended this time. It's a bit like me and oysters." She laughed, without much humor. "I used to love them. Then I got a bad one. Now I can't e'en think about them without getting this little queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach."