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Gunnilde froze. Her expression must have shown her confused dismay for he immediately froze too, releasing her wrists and rearing back from her.

“No, I—I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, evidently panicking. “Don’t misunderstand me. I like it. I just can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

He hovered over her, his face blank. “Can’t let the situation get out of hand,” he said frustratedly. “I have not yet even kissed you.” He looked so shame-faced that Gunnilde caught her breath.

Oh. She gave a relieved smile. “Well, you can remedy that easily enough.”

He cleared his throat. “Are you saying my kiss would not be unwelcome?” he asked, and Gunnilde struggled a moment with the strangest impulse to laugh. James’s arousal was currently straining against her belly, and here he was worrying about the propriety of a kiss.

“Do not worry,” she assured him. “You can kiss me and welcome.”

He stared for a long moment and then slowly, achingly slowly, he lowered his face to hers, his lips brushing against hers, oh so softly. Their breath mingled and Gunnilde whimpered. His eyes clashed with hers as he seemed to assess if she liked it or not.

Nay, she thought faintly, seeing the storm of emotions in his eyes. She had that wrong. He was trying to tell if he liked it or not. Was she his first kiss? And why, oh why did that make her heart beat so loudly in her chest that it almost deafened her?

“James?” she whispered. He did not speak, but his eyes focused on her more intently on her face. To her frustration he remained where he was, poised over her, unmoving. “Kiss me again,” she invited, shocking even herself.

His eyes flashed, and the next second his lips were against her own again, firmer this time and less hesitant.

Gunnilde gave a murmur of approval, which made him groan.

Then suddenly a heavy hammering noise started.

It seemed dull and distant at first and barely registered with Gunnilde before it increased in both volume and urgency until James pulled back, a look of confusion on his face.

“Open this door!” yelled a voice which Gunnilde recognized. “Open it now, I say!” As one, both turned their heads to stare at the bedchamber door, though it was surely the outer door that was pounding. “My gods, it’s Hal!” Gunnilde uttered.

“Your brother?” James said, looking as befuddled as she felt. Neither of them had moved, and he was still atop of her.

“Yes. He is expected at court for the Squires’ Solstice Revels,” she reflected. “He must have arrived this eve and heard our news.”

James cursed, then rolled off her, dragging the top sheet from the bed and wrapping it about himself.

He was taking a leaf out of her book, it seemed, and she followed suit, grabbing the second blanket this time for her own.

She hurried out into the sitting room and heard James drawing back the bolt and flinging the door open out in the small hallway beyond.

“Where is she?” demanded a familiar voice, and then Hal was shoving his way into the room, the light of battle in his eyes. “Gunnilde?”

“Yes, here I am, Hal,” she greeted him, walking forward to kiss his cheek.

Goodness, he was now grown tall as her and had filled out a good deal since she had seen him in the summer.

“You have heard my news, it seems,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm as James appeared in the doorway behind them

“Married?” Hal said blankly. “ Married? ” He angled a thumb at James. “To this?”

“Yes, indeed.” Gunnilde took a deep breath. “And now you must greet one another as family. Hal, this is James, my husband. James, this is Hal, my younger brother.”

Hal subjected James to a hard stare. “Why does he look like that?” he asked abruptly. “I don’t like it.”

“Undressed?” Gunnilde asked with some asperity. “Because we were abed, why else?” A chuckle drifted over James’s shoulder, and Gunnilde realized Hal was accompanied. “Cuthbert?” she called out excitedly. “Kit? Is that you?”

“Aye, it’s us, Gunnilde,” Cuthbert called back, his blond head appearing over James’s shoulder. He gave her a grin. “How are you?”

“In need of rescue?” Kit enquired, peering over her husband’s other shoulder, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“Naturally, I brought reinforcements,” her brother said impatiently. “In case I needed to carry you off, slung across my pommel.”

“Slung across your—?” Gunnilde gave her head a quick shake, then looked across at James, who was still blocking the doorway. In truth, he looked a little disheveled and was likely not making the greatest impression.

As though noticing the direction of her gaze, James glanced down and adjusted his bedsheet to make sure he was adequately covered. “You had better come in,” he said resignedly and stood as Hal’s two best friends sauntered into the room, looking about them with interest.

“Lot of good you both are!” Hal grumbled. “Waiting to be invited! I told you we were storming the place.”

Kit flopped down into a chair. “Have a heart, Payne. We’ve been on horseback all day long. Even invading armies get fed and watered before they lay siege. You got anything to eat, Hinchliffe?” he said looking at James. “We’re half-starved.”

“That’s not right, it’s not Hinchliffe,” Cuthbert said with a frown.

He crossed to the table and examined the leavings on their abandoned dinner platter.

Bennett never had reappeared to clear it away.

“I told you,” he said, selecting a chicken leg and taking a bite.

“It was white cliffs I dreamed of. That’s your name, isn’t it?

” he said, pointing toward James with his drumstick. “Whitecliff.”

“Actually—” James started to correct him, but Kit gave an indignant yell and bounced up out of his chair, flying across the room to shove Cuthbert out of the way. He hovered over the abandoned meat like a carrion crow. “Trust you to secure the meatiest bone, Ames, you greedy dog!” Kit grumbled.

Cuthbert rolled his eyes, tossed down the stripped bone, and reached for another, only to get his hand slapped away.

“You’ve had more than your share!” Kit snapped.

Seeing Hal remain at her side, Gunnilde deduced uneasily he must really be upset. Usually, Hal’s stomach and the appeasing of it was his uppermost concern.

“It’s Wycliffe actually,” James said loudly, directing the words at Hal. “James Wycliffe. You, I take it, are my new brother-in-law.”

“That remains to be seen,” Hal replied belligerently, turning to look at his sister. “How in the hells could you end up married without Father or me there to give you away?” he burst out indignantly. “It just doesn’t seem lawful to my mind.”

Seeing the injury in his eyes, Gunnilde patted his arm again. “If you will just be seated, brother, and allow us to extend you our hospitality, we can soon clear up this misunderstanding.” She shot a significant look at James, who sighed and walked over to check the contents of the ale jug.

It must have been empty for he promptly turned and walked out of the door with it, still barefoot and clad in only his bedsheet. Was he really going to walk across the corridor in search of Bennett, half-dressed like that? It seemed strangely out of character for this husband of hers.

She turned back to the others to find them watching her with keen interest. “Who is he anyway?” Kit asked, his mouth half full. “These rooms are smaller than my uncle’s, so he’s not an earl.”

“No title?” Hal asked, sucking in a breath and pursing his lips. “That’s bad.”

“Not until his father dies. Then he will be third Baron Wycliffe.”

“I saw his crest,” Cuthbert volunteered, and instantly Gunnilde knew he meant in a dream.

“Could you tell it was a unicorn?” she asked. “Only I mistook it for a goat.” She glanced down at her bedsheet before realizing that James wore the embroidered one this time.

“Yes, for unicorns have an affinity with virgins, do they not?” Cuthbert replied absently.

Gunnilde started but luckily Hal and Kit were used to ignoring the stranger of his utterings. Was he saying that James...?

“What the devil is all this row about?” Neville complained, trailing into the room, clutching his robe shut. “It is past midnight, and you might show me some consideration for I’ve the beginnings of one of my sore throats...”

“Ah, Neville, I do apologize. This is my brother, Hal Payne, and these are Cuthbert Ames and Kit Montmayne, his closest friends,” Gunnilde explained.

“They have just arrived at court for the Solstice celebrations. Learning of my recent marriage, they rushed at once to, well, to wish us all well,” she concluded optimistically.

“Ah,” Neville responded awkwardly.

“Boys,” she began brightly, though in point of fact, she was not sure she should address them as such anymore.

They were no longer sweet little pages running around in short hose.

All three of them must be around sixteen years old and took up a good deal more room than they ever used to.

Still, she had started now, so she would finish.

“This is Sir Neville Wycliffe, younger brother to my husband.”

All three looked Neville up and down critically. Hal folded his arms. “ Sir Neville, is it?” he asked skeptically. “You look a bit young to be knighted. Why, there’s nary a hair on your chin!”

“I am fully two and twenty,” Neville protested.

“So, then, you’ve been a knight all of a twelvemonth,” Cuthbert commented dampeningly.

“Who knighted you?” Hal demanded.

“Sir Raymond Buxton.”

“Never heard of him,” Kit said, sounding unimpressed.

“Why should you? He is a courtly man of education and refinement,” Neville responded smartly. “Not some ruffian brawler like your own masters, I surmise!”

Gunnilde’s face fell, for Kit’s master was none other than the fearsome Garman Orde, while Cuthbert served the King’s champion. It was unlikely they would allow such an insult to go unchecked.