Koseth shivered. "I was waiting for you to get back," he said. "Silvertop's and Tichen's little interruptions distracted me."
He saw her head tilt to one side, and imagined what he couldn't see in the dark—her eyebrows raised, her mouth a little puckered. He reached out for one of her hands, and stroked the long calloused fingers.
"I've decided to ask you if you'd marry me, you see. Don't fall off the roof, in the name of luck!"
She steadied herself by taking his hand in both of hers. "Why, pray tell, do you want to marry me?"
"What do you mean, why? Haven't I ever told you that I love you?"
"Yes, of course, but you told me that for the first time two months ago. What's different about it now?"
"Do you suppose it would help if I gave you a good shake?" sighed Koseth.
"No, I'd fall off the roof. I can't marry you, dear. You're the Margrave of Trieth. It would make my mother deliriously happy."
"Oh, luck forbid you should make your mother happy."
"Well, that's what I thought. I'll keep the Tiger's Eye, you know."
"I should hope so. I need something to fall back on after I run heedlessly through my inheritance."
Snake made a rude noise. "You never spend anything. I tell you what—I'll make you a partner in the business. With my knowledge of buying and selling and caravaning, and your money and familiarity with the Waste, we'll have the largest piece of the northern trade in all of Liavek."
"Snake, I'm proposing a marriage, not a merger."
"Same thing." She leaned forward and kissed him, long and intoxicatingly, on the mouth. "I adore you, Lir Matean Koseth ola Presec."
"So what," he grinned, and drew her closer.
Liavek 4 Page 15