I'm sorry for the damn shortness... it just felt like a chapter-end... forgive me? Review me too.

Disclaimer: -insert text which means I own nobody here-
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"Come to bed, love," murmured Broken Sword to his lover.

She sat still where he had left her, and now the light was fading into mellow gold. She was no longer angry at him, only thoughtful, though what she was thinking about, he couldn't tell. Her eyes were wide and distracted, her expression just a thin layer of ice which concealed her true face. His low voice raised the hair on her neck, but she willed herself not to show it. No weakness. She ignored him. Snow blinked slowly, holding her eyes closed and preserving her solitude for almost a second before acknowledging his presence. He was staring at her, those feral eyes boring into her.

Feral eyes. She was the feral one, the one with the untameable temper and wild rages. He was as meek as a child when he wasn't fighting. And she had been given the countenance of a lady,
while he looked as though he had come straight from one of the old legends.

He didn't repeat the question; he knew she had heard. Instead he made his gaze questioning.
She turned her own glittering eyes away from him again, demure she seemed, as innocent as a maiden. "You know I never make love the night before working," she replied quietly, referring to the duel she was to fight with Nameless.

"I know." So gentle.

Why so tender towards her? She had hurt him deliberately earlier, she knew that. Yet he just let it flow away like water congealing in perfect jewelled drops on a blade, before shivering across the steel to fall from it completely, leaving only the tiniest trace of a last kiss. She didn't know why it infuriated her so. Somewhere inside her she wanted him to shout and rage at her as she did to him. She wanted him to be angry. She wanted him to show that it mattered when she sent her barbed words at his heart. That he loved her enough to be hurt by her.

He continued. "It will be enough just to be together, for this last night." The last night before our work will be done, perhaps. Yours or mine, no one knows. Maybe even our last night together. Nameless said he wouldn't kill you, and I suppose I should trust him, but I can't help thinking it should be me.

Unconsciously his hand felt under his simple robe the still-throbbing wound. You know me so well, he thought ruefully. Much better than I know you. Too naive to see it coming. I didn't think you'd dare. He smiled. Such a tigress, his love.

Broken Sword reached down a hand to her, and she looked at it, confused for a second. Then she tentatively put her own cold hand into it. Relief flooded through his body. He was the only one she'd reach up to, and that rare. He led her, silent and cold and not fighting him. She walked as if in a dream. He turned back to face her, and she allowed him one brief smile.

So this was why she loved him.
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More is on its way. Promise. It'll be the last. It'll also be longer.