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“Hmmm. And why do you suppose it is that you cannot attract patrons? What do your family think?”

He rolled his eyes. “My mother thinks my genius is not appreciated and likely will not be until I am dead. She thinks it a thankless endeavor and that I should simply...”

“Marry an heiress,” Gunnilde guessed when he fell silent. Well, her wits were not lacking at any rate. “What about your father?”

“Oh, he agrees, apart from the genius part. He does not care for my style of music.”

She grew quiet at this, her expression growing somber.

“There will be a dowry,” she said in an embarrassed voice, “but it will not be over large and likely my father will not hand it over until we have soothed his ruffled feathers. He is like to cut up rough about our unsanctioned marriage at first.”

“Well, that is understandable,” he conceded.

His own parents would be horrified. She nodded dolefully.

Looking sorrowful did not suit Mistress Payne, he thought, shifting uncomfortably and making the mattress dip.

The gods knew why but he found himself casting around for something to distract her with.

“You do not ask why my brother thinks I am unsuccessful,” he said.

“Yes, tell me what Neville thinks,” she said, brightening. Strangely, he felt a stab of annoyance that she should speak his brother’s name aloud with such familiarity. “After all,” she rambled on, “he is present here at court and must have some insight to provide.”

James snorted but answered all the same. “He says it is because I am not personable enough. Because I do not make myself particularly agreeable and flatter folk as I should.”

To his annoyance, a look of dawning comprehension crept over her face. “Oh, I see ,” she breathed. “Yes, of course. That does makes sense.” Another pang of irritation afflicted him but before he could say something withering, she struggled up onto her elbow again, distracting him.

The sheet slipped down, revealing rather more of her than she likely realized. The fabric of her shift was filmy, and Mistress Payne was generously proportioned. Very generously. His mouth turned dry. Gods.

“But James, don’t you see?” she breathed excitedly through parted lips.

He saw rather more than he had bargained for.

And the sight left him stunned. Then he realized she had spoken his name, and his heartbeat migrated down south.

Fuck, all his hard work dwelling on disagreeable things had come undone in an instant!

“This is something I can help you with!”

“What is?” James asked in a strangled voice.

“Your popularity,” she answered rapturously. “Not just with the”—she broke off, as though deciding against her original choice of words—“the intellectual faction here at court,” she said carefully, “but with the wider court at large.”

She looked so flushed and excited that he could hardly bear to look at her. “And how would you manage such a thing?” he asked more waspishly than he’d intended.

Her light dimmed a little. “Oh, I know I am not popular right now,” she said with an awkward little laugh. “You do not hurt my feelings by pointing that out, do not worry.” She gave him a quick smile and a pat of his shoulder.

Hurt her feelings? James felt dazed, though that might have been because she had touched him again.

“But you see, there is my new position to take into account,” she said, eyes shining once again. “And that will make all the difference.”

“It will?” he asked weakly.

“Yes,” she answered blithely. “I see it all quite clearly. The way before me, I mean.” She sounded so assured that James was dumbfounded. It did not even occur to him to pour cold water over her scheme. They both lay quiet for a few heartbeats.

Then she asked politely, “Were you thinking of abstaining this eve? I don’t mind, honestly,” she hurried to add. “It has been a long day, and I quite understand that it may take you some time to adjust your expectations.”

To adjust his...? Oh, she meant the fact his intended bride had switched. Instead of telling her flat that he’d no intention of consummating such an undesirable marriage, a course of action he had determined upon hours ago, he found himself clearing his throat.

“Er, yes,” he heard himself respond. “It might be best if we postpone the consummation for a while. At least...” His words trailed off as he ran out of inspiration.

“I understand perfectly,” she said with the utmost affability. The bedsheets rustled.

“Where are you going?” James asked, hearing her feet hit the floorboards.

“Just to extinguish the candles, never fear.”

He lifted his head to watch her cross the room and blow out the candles and had to suppress a groan for he could see everything through the thin stuff of her shift. Gunnilde Payne’s backside was no less voluptuous than the front.

He heard her give a puff of breath and the light dimmed. She took three steps and blew again. He tried not to remember the feel of her breath against his face at dinner when she had, well, not exactly kissed him but as near as damn it.

Now only the light from the fire illuminated the dark room. She made her way swiftly back to bed and climbed in. “All will be well, you will see,” she said, collapsing back onto the mattress beside him, setting the bed to creaking. “You may depend upon me, husband, I will not let you down.”

After speaking these extraordinary words, she closed her eyes, a beatific smile curved her lips. “I am so glad we had this discussion, aren’t you? I just know I will get a good night’s sleep now.”

A good night’s sleep? James reflected. When was the last time he had enjoyed one of those? It occurred to him that a man might get a good night’s sleep after rolling vigorously in the bedsheets with the likes of Mistress Payne.

Those soft, pillowy breasts would likely afford a man some comfort, and as for those sizable hips and that big round arse... Well, he thought, swallowing, she would hold her own. Or at least he hoped she would.

He shut his eyes tight. What the hells was he thinking?

Stop it, James , he told himself. Do not think about how easy it would be to simply roll on top of this woman and.

..gods, lose himself in her. His chest pounded.

She would not even begrudge him the pleasure.

She would likely say something...encouraging.

Fuck.

Think about jesters, James , he thought desperately. Jesters and empty coffers.