His hands flashed out and caught her wrists.
“By God’s blood, is it all laughter? What will you say to Merlin to-morrow?”
She did not try to free herself, but threw her head back and looked him in the eyes.
“I shall tell him that you made a fool of me and ran away in the night.”
“Isoult!”
His grip tightened upon her wrists.
“No, by God! I’ll not lend myself to that! Speak the truth. You laugh, that I may not think you too generous, and call me fool—to make it easier for me to go.”
Her eyes glimmered at him.
“Well—go. I can deal with Merlin.”
“Merlin! What right has that rat to gnaw at your lute strings? Let him go to his own damnation. Merlin—a grey rat—to say you yea or nay!”