"Good," he told her, meaning every word. "The less I'm likened to one of those idiot, pompous-ass imbeciles, the better." But while he didn't care a whit about her stiff propriety, he wasn't going to have her accusing him of being a raping barbarian, either. So Daemon very deliberately lifted her out of his lap and put her back on her own bottom, leaving her to sort out her clothing as she liked. Or didn't like, either way.

"This is what being married to me is going to be, princess," Daemon told her, crossing his ankles and his arms. "So you may as well get used to it. You're welcome to like me, hate me, or love me, it doesn't change a thing. I am how I am, and lordship or kingship or whatever-ship isn't going to make me any different."

He quirked an eyebrow over at her. "I'd like us to at least be friendly, get along enough to at least have one child, but if you'd rather remain a marble maiden for the rest of your years, well, I'll just have to make do."