She hissed at him, baring her teeth and recoiling once more. Barton snorted a guffaw, shaking his head. "The gods give you luck," was all he said before disappearing back into the trees, silent as a shadow. The girl watched him go without expression, and her gaze was flat and hateful as it fell back on her captor.
"Go to hell. Again." Snapping the words, she resolutely stayed where she was, bedraggled and filthy. She'd never felt more wretched in her entire life. "I despise you. All of you." She jerked her hands, snapping the length of rope. "I wish to the gods I'd have at least crushed your damned windpipe."
"Let me help you," James says again, a little firmer. "I know it's no castle but it will be good here, I promise. It won't be terrible. I'm not going to hurt you and I'll kill anyone who so much as tries, all right? Stay with me and you'll be safe."
"Why would I trust you at all?" she snapped right back. "You've abducted me, entirely against my will, and refuse to listen to any sort of reason!" Uncaring if she woke the entire forest, beasts and all, Natalia refused to budge, or even modulate her voice to a tone more suited to the night hours.
"It doesn't matter how kind you say you are, or how good you believe yourself to be, Wilding. I'm a prisoner, and you must be slow in the head if you'd ever believe that a prisoner would ever be a willing wife of any sort!" She tossed her head, tangled red curls tumbling down over her shoulders, not even shivering despite the chill in the air.
"So, no! I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and you'd be better off letting them have me, as doing so would hopefully put me out of my wretched misery sooner than being shackled to you!"
James sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. He'd thought abducting a wife was easier than this but other Free Folk understand the tradition and while there's a fight, it's understood it ends in a marriage. He guesses kneelers don't do it this way at all.
"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," he says, firm on that point. He's said it many times and he's going to keep saying it until she believes him. Between him and his wolf, no one will touch her.
"I wish you'd stop saying that. It's not only insulting, but it's irritating as hell, too." She saw him rub his nose and prayed that he was coming down with a fantastic migraine. If she couldn't pummel him with her fists, maybe she could drive him to madness and make her escape that way.
"What the hell is a 'kneeler'? If you're talking about civilized folk, then men typically ask the woman they fancy if she'd consent to being his wife, they don't simply abduct her out of the blue and inform her that she's now a prisoner for the rest of her life!"
"Kneelers have to have lords and kings. We don't. We're free of all of that," James happily explains. She's still upset, yes, but she's asking questions and that's better than hitting him or trying to run away. If she'll just talk to him, he thinks he can win her over.
"You want that, then? You want for me to bring you flowers and ask you if you want me? Because I will."
He flashes her a bright smile, crinkling at the corner of his eyes.
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"Go to hell. Again." Snapping the words, she resolutely stayed where she was, bedraggled and filthy. She'd never felt more wretched in her entire life. "I despise you. All of you." She jerked her hands, snapping the length of rope. "I wish to the gods I'd have at least crushed your damned windpipe."
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He doesn't know how much plainer he can make it.
"Can you trust me at least against the others?"
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"It doesn't matter how kind you say you are, or how good you believe yourself to be, Wilding. I'm a prisoner, and you must be slow in the head if you'd ever believe that a prisoner would ever be a willing wife of any sort!" She tossed her head, tangled red curls tumbling down over her shoulders, not even shivering despite the chill in the air.
"So, no! I don't want your help, I don't need your help, and you'd be better off letting them have me, as doing so would hopefully put me out of my wretched misery sooner than being shackled to you!"
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"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," he says, firm on that point. He's said it many times and he's going to keep saying it until she believes him. Between him and his wolf, no one will touch her.
"How do kneelers do it? How do kneelers marry?"
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"What the hell is a 'kneeler'? If you're talking about civilized folk, then men typically ask the woman they fancy if she'd consent to being his wife, they don't simply abduct her out of the blue and inform her that she's now a prisoner for the rest of her life!"
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"You want that, then? You want for me to bring you flowers and ask you if you want me? Because I will."
He flashes her a bright smile, crinkling at the corner of his eyes.
"I'll bring you every flower I can find."