"I don't know what I want, yet. There is just so much to consider. I'm sorry, Sandor." His own name sounded strange in her voice.
"I'm in no hurry."
"You will stay here with me in Lorath for a while I decide, will you not?"
"I'm not going anywhere soon, Little Bird." His tone was reassuring.
"We could get to know each other better to make my decision easier. I'm loath to be desired for my claim, after Joffrey and Tyrion, and then Littlefinger and Harry. I'm sure, at least, that you don't care for my claim."
"No. I've never desired a lordship or a castle. I was a novice on the Quiet Isle before your sister found me."
Her jaw dropped open.
"What? Surprised?"
"Quite." She nodded, seeming impressed.
"Chaste as the Maiden for almost two years." He laughed. "Though, I never intended to become a Septon, no more than I ever intended to marry." He breathed a heavy, ragged sigh. "Nor do I intend to marry you. You're a fool for considering it, and I'm a fool for wishing it. I've offered you a way out of this mess without wasting your life with a maimed cur. Take it, girl. Go and have the life you dreamed of before you met Joffrey, a fancy house with a handsome Lord, full of singing and flowers and feasts."
"But, you wish it?"
That's what she heard? "What man wouldn't wish for you to be his own, Sansa? You're lovely, young, accomplished, gentle . . . too good for the likes of me. Gods, too good for any man, I'd say. I still can hardly believe that the Imp left you a maid."
"So, you are willing to get to know each other better to help me decide?"
He was getting frustrated. "Girl, do you understand that I am not the fucking Imp?" His temper threatened to boil over. "I may have lived with Septons, but believe me when I tell you that I will be no Septon in the marriage bed. I will not leave you with your maidenhead, and you'll get no annulment. If I wed you, I will bed you," he emphasized, "every night and sometimes during the day." She needed to understand that he was a grown man and that this was no game. He bent to look straight into her in her young, blushing face. "Is this what you want above you each night in your marriage bed?" He gestured to his face.
"I told you that I don't know, yet. Are you not willing?"
He wanted to shake her, but he decided that she'd come to the right decision after some time. "Aye. I'm willing to get to know each other. You'll soon enough find me the most miserable boor you've ever been cursed to be acquainted with, and move on from this idiotic notion. Then, you'll find a suitable husband. Maybe you can write a song about it." He chided.
She smiled and stepped closer to him, and he realized she wanted him to embrace her. It was awkward for him to put his arms around anyone, and as he hugged her, he felt oddly tempted to kiss the top of her head. Instead, he immediately decided to make an example of the moment. "I'm not Lord Eddard, girl. I'll not be your father. Either I'll be your servant or your husband. If you're smart, you'll choose the first, but in the meantime, that's what we'll suppose." He stepped back from her, "And servants don't hug their Ladies."
"Kellan does, sometimes." She volunteered innocently.
His eyebrows rose, heat rising up his neck, making the burnt side of his face tingle. "Does he, now? Well, let me tell you one more thing that will weigh heavy in your decision. If you were my wife, you'd be mine and only mine; no hugging the manservants, no giving your favours to pretty tourney knights in exchange for hand kisses, no lovers! If I even thought for a moment that you were unfaithful, that you wanted another man in your bed, I'd . . . ." His fists were clenched and his eyes were burning. He turned away from her. I'd kill her! No, get a hold of yourself! You know what you'd really do: you'd die.
"Oh! No, Sandor. Please, don't let that cross your mind. I'd never take a lover." She laid her hand on his arm, and he turned back toward her. "If I choose you, if I choose any man, it will be as a love match." She's serious! A love match with me! His heart was pounding.
"And you? If we were to marry, you'd promise me no whores and no bastards?"
Even honorable Ned Stark couldn't even keep that promise, but for this girl, I could. He nodded.
"Can we make a compromise? I'll put an end to my" she chose the next word carefully, "familiarity with Kellan, if you let me get to know you as a betrothed does, not just as a servant."
"How will we ever go back from that? When you choose another, how will we become less familiar?" I'll be the new Kellan, living in my memories, jealously watching from the corner, waiting for any opportunity, for just a scrap of her attention.
"If I should choose another, we'll manage it somehow."
No. You'll manage, Little Bird. I'll go mad.