A/N: Thank you for all the kind words and reviews! Sorry this update is a bit late; RL drama kept me from posting sooner, and I will personally answer all messages as soon as possible. *hugs*

Chapter 10 The Next Day

A slight chill in the room awakened Sansa before dawn. Feeling the empty space beside her, she wondered where Sandor had gone, and stretching her limbs, she burrowed under the covers once more with a groan.

Her husband had made love to her throughout the night, and warm and sated, Sansa was unwilling to start the day just yet. Feeling as though she were being watched, she peeked through her lashes and saw Sandor sitting on the hearth, intently staring at her. When he caught sight of her, he straightened up and folded his hands.

Glancing around the room, she saw the table beside the bed was filled with various treats. Oh, I must have dreadfully overslept. Mother would scold me awfully if she knew I laid sleeping while my husband sat waiting on me.

"Thank you for calling up our meal," Sansa gingerly sat up, grasping the furs to her chest with a shy smile. "Forgive me, husband; I will have everything ready for you tomorrow, I promise."

Smirking, Sandor silently devoured her with the same hungry gaze he wore the night before. "Don't fret over it, little bird."

All of the pleasurable things they did together came rushing back to her mind as he regarded her, and the memory spread a deep flush across her cheeks. Not knowing what else to do, Sansa smoothed down her curls and pinched her cheeks. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"Aye," he rasped out a soft laugh. "I enjoy looking at you."

His words pleased her greatly, though Sansa sensed things were different between them now, and it seemed their newfound intimacy brought a different sort of awkward silence between them. Perhaps he is afraid I do not want him anymore. Beckoning to him, she patted the space beside her with a welcoming smile.

Offering a tight smile in return, Sandor hurriedly moved beside her and anxiously ran his hands down his thighs. "Regret bedding Joff's dog, little bird?"

His words confirmed her fear and cut straight to her heart. "Not one bit," Sansa tilted his face to her as she brushed her mouth across his cheek. "I am very happy I did, and I am most pleased with you, husband." She cleared her throat and whispered, "Perhaps later we can try it again?"

Startled, Sandor's mouth twitched into a grin and he eagerly turned to meet her lips. They kissed that way for quite a while, and when Sandor pulled away, a deep frown settled on his brow. "Did I hurt you?"

"What do you mean?" Confused, Sansa looked down where his hand was tracing the deep purplish bruises blooming on her breasts.

Sansa caressed his stubbled cheek with a smile. "No, Sandor; I bruise quite easily, you recall. They are love marks, nothing more, and I quite enjoyed receiving them."

His mouth twitched into a small smile once more as he allowed his calloused fingertips to trail down to the inside of her thigh. "And here?"

Softly she shook her head. "No, husband, you were very considerate."

"I've never had a maid," he started to explain with a shrug, gesturing to the sheets. "I thought mayhap I hurt you."

She followed his gaze to the light sprinkling of maiden's blood darkening the linen beneath her. "It is normal, Sandor, and my septa told me the amount varies from woman to woman," she reassured him while anxiously rearranging the coverlets. "You must forgive my thoughtlessness, Sandor; a lady is supposed to take care of the matter before her lord husband awakens so as not to trouble him with such unpleasantries."

"Bugger that; come here, woman," Sandor settled her on his lap, stroking his hands over her body while kissing her neck and shoulder. It felt so good that Sansa closed her eyes and leaned into his touch with a contented sigh.

Snuggled down in his arms, a dark mindset took hold of the young woman. Each new day is one day closer to the end of Father's life, she bitterly shuddered, wrapping her arms around her husband tightly.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Sandor pulled her closer to him. "Hungry?" He drew a plate from the table while still cradling her in his arms.

"Oh, yes, very," she hurriedly responded.

Snorting, he popped a roll in his mouth and then held the plate out to her. "For breakfast, I meant to say."

Blushing heatedly, she stammered through an incoherent explanation until he covered her mouth with another kiss. "Easy, lass," he grinned wickedly at her and offered her a lemoncake.

"Pray, why are you dressed so early?" Sansa nibbled at the confection, all the while feeling very self-conscious, sitting fully nude on his lap.

Groaning, Sandor cursed under his breath and shook his head. "The king has called a thrice damned early meeting with his council this morning." Swallowing, he rubbed his hands over her thighs soothingly. "You best get dressed after I leave. With Baelish sniffing around, I need to know you'll be safe, so swear to me that you won't open the door for anyone."

Nodding quietly, she turned her face up to him. "Sandor, though it may cost me my new clothes, I must tell you that Shae heard from Tyrion that Taena is a spy for Cersei."

"I know that, wife," Sandor shrugged disinterestedly. "One of Baelish's whores told me while I was gambling, thinking it would earn her some coin."

Sansa bristled and wrinkled her nose at him. "Did you pay her for it?"

"Aye, and that is why I came back early yesterday-if you hadn't been standing there naked I'd have broken her neck. You'll get your gowns yet."

A part of her longed to ask what he was planning on doing with the woman afterward, but Sansa felt it best not to ask for any more details. "Well, it all worked out for the best," she allowed after a moment.

Sandor threw his head back and laughed long and hard. "Aye, you could say that. She got an eyeful, as did I, and mayhap she already told Cersei about it."

Taking his hand, Sansa gazed up at him. "Please, I wish to say something before you leave for the day."

"Yes?" He sat up, suddenly serious.

Though she knew it was dangerous, Sansa desperately wanted to see her father again. As she gazed into Sandor's eyes, however, she realized she cared for him far too much to ask him to risk himself further, and the words stuck in her throat. "Forgive me, I have no right to ask," she sighed.

"You've been awake a quarter of an hour and already you've apologized to me three times," Sandor shook his head, the now familiar anger slowly returning to his eyes. "Just say what you need to say, little bird, and bugger your courtesies."

"I want you to take me to Father again," she confessed, biting her lip to hold back the bitter tears threatening her eyes. "And…and I don't want you to go to brothels anymore."

Heaving a deep sigh, Sandor shifted beneath her and gently took her chin into his hand. "I know, lass." His jaw clenched tightly, and Sansa could tell the man was struggling for the right words. "I've gone to drink and gamble after hours most days, ever since I came here. Baelish's spies are everywhere, and if I change my routine, it will cast suspicion over both of us." After a few moments of silently looking into her eyes, he added quietly, "With things as they are, I can't risk it, or you."

"I know," Sansa kissed him softly. "And I thank you for telling me. That is why I said I had no right to ask, Sandor, because I would not risk you, either-not for the world."

A sharp knock on the door startled them. Cursing, Sandor grudgingly set her back on the bed and went to the door while Sansa hastily threw on her robe.

Tyrion's squire Podrick stood in the doorway, red faced and nervous. "Lord Clegane?"

"What do you want?" Sandor barked, sizing him up. "The Imp send you here?"

"Yes, I have a message from Lord Tyrion, milord."

Sandor snatched it from his hand and slammed the door. After he finished reading it, his eyes flickered up to Sansa before he crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the fire.

"Come," Sansa took him by the hand and led him back into the bedroom. She suspected what Sandor needed, and surprisingly, she was willing to go along with it. Gathering up the bedding, she carefully folded it, smoothed it inside a clean blanket and tied it securely with her sash.

"Here," she handed the bundle to him. "Take it; I admit I do not like it but if it will keep us together and safe, I do not mind," Sansa hurriedly added when he scowled at her. "It is for the both of us. You have already done so much and this is one thing I can do. Please, take it."

Gritting his teeth, Sandor looked away, his eyes glittering with rage. "That shit Joffrey has gone too far, and so has Littlefucker," he hissed. "After today, I'll not have you subjected to this sort of thing, I swear it."

Placing her hands on his arms, Sansa then kissed him softly and stroked his cheek. "Go to them, Sandor, and no matter what they say, remember that last night was for us and for us alone. I gave myself to you because I am in love with you, and come what may, no one can take that away from us."

Choking sounds come from the back of his throat, and Sandor impetuously clung to her while burying his face in her hair. "Little bird," he rasped, squeezing her close one last time before hurrying from the room.

Snuggling into his side of the bed, Sansa silently fell into prayer, thanking the old gods for bringing Sandor into her life and begging them to spare her father.

By midmorning, Sandor returned just as Shae finished pressing out the creases in her gown. The look of dark fury in his eyes set her nerves on edge as he took her by the arm. "Come Sansa; we need to make haste. Joffrey has announced his plans and he wants to see your face when he tells the court."

"Sandor, what is it?" She whispered as he led her toward the throne room. "Did he kill Father?"

"No, not yet.

Sansa let out a sigh of relief; Sandor, however, looked wound as tight as a bowstring. What has Joffrey done now?

"You were right, wife; that fucking perverted old maester wanted the linens and after he inspected it, he announced our marriage sealed in the sight of the old gods and the Seven."

"Thank the gods."

"Not so fast," he shook his head. "The Imp has married off his niece to the Martells. The queen will send her away before Stannis's fleet attacks the city a fortnight hence."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"Joffrey means to kill Ned and then send us to meet Tywin Lannister at Greywater Watch."

Sansa's mind whirled. Clutching his arm, she whispered, "Good gods, he thinks if you arrive as my husband with Lannister troops ready to take the castle by force that the north-and my brother-will surrender."

"Easy, wife," Sandor pulled her close.

"Joffey is not smart enough to come with this on his own; did Cersei put him up to this?"

"No."

"Lord Tywin?"

He shook his head and pulled her into an alcove. "Do you trust me?" Sandor whispered into her ear.

"Yes, of course."

"Then put on your best face, smile pretty and chirp the words your septa taught you, understand? Tell Joffrey what he wants to hear."

The old gods had eased their way so far, and Sansa had faith that they would see them though this crisis too. Steeling herself, Sansa smoothed her skirts, kissed her husband on the cheek and then nodded for Ser Barristan to open the doors.