There was a long pause as Rosmerta ran through the many different responses that wanted to spring to her lips. Most of them were what her mother would refer to as rather snippy. But then again, that was sort of her personality. Much to the dismay of family members that wanted to foist her off on some husband or other.
Well now she had some husband or other. And despite the retorts that desperately longed to be spoken, she'd already been rather short with him earlier and here he was trying to be kind. So she swallowed the words, but she couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes.
“I think there is something wrong with your hearing,” she told him. “I told you, I'm not consummating anything with you. And there's nothing at all wrong with my ears, because you already let me know you don't force anybody. I got that part, Cernunnos. Really. I'm not worried you're going to pounce on me, and believe me, I'm definitely not tackling you. That's not what I was talking about.”
She tried really hard not to wonder why that was where his mind automatically went, but she'd chalk it up to too many brides over too many years. It was probably habit or something. Rosmerta shook her head slightly. “I wasn't talking about the marital bed. I was talking about the fields. I mean, we're both fertility deities. I don't want to step on your toes about this or anything, but it's what I do too, and as long as I'm here... would you like me to pitch in? Bow out? Do you want to divide up what needs to be done?”