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G unnilde awoke early and lay abed awhile in James’s sleepy embrace. He had scarcely moved a muscle all night, most unusual for him, and had remained wrapped around her until the early hours. Turning her head to look at him, she felt an almost overwhelming wave of tenderness engulf her.

James was a sensitive soul, and his father sounded an absolute brute.

How dared he treat his son so? Gunnilde’s chest burned with indignation at the thought of it.

His mother did not sound much better either, keeping her son cooped up in the schoolroom and barely affording him any opportunities to meet anyone.

No wonder he seemed such a cold fish on first knowing him.

He had no notion how to make himself agreeable to others!

Lightly, she touched his hair; like everything else about the man, it was beautiful, such a rich auburn shade.

He was ridiculously good-looking, but that fact no longer exasperated her.

Not now she knew him better. Gunnilde had always suspected that beautiful people had things much easier than everybody else, but she was beginning to revise that opinion since getting to know James.

Nothing really seemed easy for him. From what she could make out, her husband had very few friends among his fellow courtiers. They all spoke highly of him, but they appeared more like acquaintances than anything intimate. In his private hours it seemed James did not mix with them at all.

Outside of the palace, he had his Master Gregory, of course, but he was a former teacher of James’s so she was not sure that really counted.

It was not as though they had met spontaneously and become lifelong friends, was it?

And she knew now for a fact that he had no former loves, save for Constance, of course.

Her conscience prickled slightly to think of Constance but then, Constance could not have truly loved him back, or she would not have run away with Sir Douglas, now, would she? She, Gunnilde, would take far better care of James than Constance would have, in any case.

Constance was too reserved and proper for James, Gunnilde decided. They would never have stopped being polite and reserved with one another. They would have been one of those couples who never undressed in front of each other after thirty years of marriage.

Catching sight of the reddened, mottled skin around his eye, Gunnilde went up on her elbow and peered down at it in concern.

It was definitely forming into a bruise, she thought crossly.

Oh bother Hal! Why on earth had they seen fit to embroil her poor husband in their scrapes?

It was too bad of them to ruin the perfection of his features like that!

James stirred at that moment, loosening his grip of her, and Gunnilde managed to extricate herself, and was half out of the bed when she heard the tap on the door.

Realizing it was Bennett with the washing water, she dove back under the blanket again and huddled there until the manservant backed out of the door, his eyes still carefully averted.

“Where are you going?” James mumbled grumpily, rolling onto his back. He rubbed his eyes, then hissed, finding one swollen and bruised.

“Just to wash,” she told him over her shoulder as she hurried across the floorboards in her bare feet. “What are your plans today?” she asked, splashing water into the basin. “Are you going into Aphrany?”

“I don’t know,” he said, then sat up to hunch over his knees. “What about you?”

“Oh, the usual,” she said airily, wringing out a washcloth.

“Which is?”

“Attending the Queen. Trying to ingratiate myself with her ladies.” She rubbed the damp cloth over her face and neck. James’s frown deepened. It must pain his eye, she thought with a pang. She wished he would smile more.

“What if...” he began.

Gunnilde’s shift slid down one shoulder, baring her one shoulder down to her elbow. “Whoops,” she said, making a grab for it. The tie strings must have worked loose during the night. She glanced back over her shoulder and found James watching her. “Sorry,” she blurted.

“You don’t need to apologize on my account. If I didn’t like the spectacle, I would not be looking.”

It seemed such an unexpected thing for him to say that she stared at him. “You like the spectacle?” she repeated.

“Of course I do. It must be obvious to you by now, Gunnilde.” He glanced away, faint color tinting his cheekbones. “It’s not an easy thing for a man to hide. His body makes it rather obvious.” He pulled a face.

Oh. He meant the fact she had felt the impression of his stiff manhood pressed against her the past few nights. “Well, yes,” she agreed. “But that was the feel of my body in the dark, not the look of me. That is an altogether different thing.”

His eyebrows rose. “Both are...pleasing to me,” he said, reddening further.

“Really?” Gunnilde could not contain her gratification on hearing this.

This was even better than his saying so matter-of-factly that she was pretty the previous night.

She had not allowed herself to dwell on that particular compliment for she had not been sure he meant much by it.

This time, she allowed the words to sink in and gave him a shy smile.

James cleared his throat. “What if I...accompanied you today, to the Queen’s presence chamber?” he suggested.

Had that been what he was going to say before? Her shift slipping down her shoulder had driven his thoughts from his mind. “I would love that!” she said at once. “Then I need not trail about all forlorn until the Queen deigns to notice me.”

“Is that what happened yesterday?” He frowned.

“Yes, for all the other ladies are determined to shun me as an upstart,” Gunnilde said cheerfully, turning back to her ablutions.

“I shall certainly accompany you today, then,” he resolved.

By the time they showed up in the Queen’s receiving chambers, however, Gunnilde found her second day was a different experience altogether to the first. For one thing, she was immediately accosted by a splinter party of four ladies, headed by a bustling Estrilda Rheinholdt.

“Ah, Gunnilde, well met!” she hailed her in the friendliest of terms. “I have been looking out for you for an age and quite feared you were not gracing us with your presence this morn.”

“Estrilda,” Gunnilde greeted her in return.

“Good morn. I have brought my husband along with me today.” She gestured toward James, wondering if he was the reason for the effusive welcome.

But apparently not, for Estrilda gave James the most cursory of greetings before turning determinedly back to Gunnilde.

“I had the great pleasure of meeting your brother, Master Payne, yesterday,” she said airily. “A delightful young man and quite mature for his years, I thought.”

Good grief, Gunnilde thought, seeing the pink enter Estrilda’s cheeks. Was she blushing ? Over Hal ? “Oh...yes. He did mention your meeting and that you were kind enough to show an interest in Dustin.”

“Dustin?” Estrilda looked blank.

“His little dog.”

“Oh! Oh yes, of course! Dustin ,” she said hastily. “Such a sweet little doggy.”

So...Gunnilde had been wrong. It had not been Dustin who had caught Estrilda’s fancy, but Hal himself.

She slanted a disbelieving look at James, but he merely smirked back at her.

“ I told you ,” he mouthed. Told her what?

Oh yes, she remembered belatedly. He had claimed Hal was something of a lady’s favorite.

How bizarre! She could scarcely credit it.

“I do hope he will remain at court for the Solstice celebrations,” Estrilda continued coyly.

“He will certainly be here until the Squires’ Revels which I believe are held on the twelfth of the month.”

Estrilda nodded. “How very interesting,” she said.

“I have always wondered what they entailed precisely, for I have never had the opportunity to attend one.” She looked expectantly at her, and Gunnilde realized that Estrilda had not the first notion what the Squires’ Revels even were. She took pity on her.

“As you will no doubt have gathered, they are an opportunity for the squires to prove their worth by competing in various events to show their proficiency.”

The ladies stood beside Estrilda all perked up. “Pray, what sort of events, Lady Wycliffe?” enquired one. Gunnilde thought her name was Mistress Stanhope.

“Do not be so odiously forward, Patience!” Estrilda snapped at her. “I was just about to ask my friend the self-same thing!” She turned back expectantly to Gunnilde. Patience Stanhope took a step back, looking suitably chastened.

“Um, events such as wrestling and long jump,” Gunnilde replied. What else had the boys mentioned? She threw a look of appeal at James.

“Archery, swimming,” he listed in a bored voice. “The usual feats a squire must demonstrate before he is made a knight.”

“It all sounds quite exciting,” another lady twittered before Estrilda’s fierce glower subdued her.

“Yes, I am looking forward to seeing my brother compete,” Gunnilde agreed. “Perhaps we could watch the Revels together?” she suggested tentatively.

Estrilda was immediately wreathed in smiles.

“That would be most agreeable, my dear Gunnilde,” she enthused.

“I would be delighted! Quite delighted! I thank you for the invitation.” They curtseyed to one another and Estrilda moved on, followed by her little clique.

She looked quite triumphant and threw a contemptuous gaze toward the larger group of ladies-in-waiting who were watching their interaction with aloof disapproval.

“What in heavens is happening?” Gunnilde asked James in a hushed voice.

“It appears that your brother has charmed Mistress Rheinholdt into befriending you,” he answered. “But the majority of the Queen’s ladies are still biding their time.”

“Oh, let them,” Gunnilde responded. “I have you to keep me company today in any case.” She squeezed his arm, and though James looked a little self-conscious, he did not pull away.