Page 43

G unnilde lay on her side facing James in the dimly lit room.

She had told him first the tale of Magnatrude Bartree’s lonely existence in her ruined family estate.

Then she had described the tournament where Lord Kentigern had ignored his own beauteous wife in the stands to bestow the tourney crown on another.

At the close, James had asked her to repeat both stories only this time omitting all names or mentions of specific places. She wondered if he would replace their names with Sweet William and Fair Janet or some other variation. Maybe Sir William, she thought, as the hero would be a knight.

She hoped she had inspired him. Only imagine if he wrote some epic ballads inspired by such events, how proud she would be. He had not spoken for several moments, and Gunnilde eyed his perfect profile admiringly. “Have you ever been painted, James?” she asked softly.

“What?” He turned his head to look at her.

“I would love a miniature,” she said without thinking.

“Of me?” She nodded. “What would you do with it?” he asked, a pucker between his brows.

“I don’t know. Carry it around. Look at it whenever I felt doubt that I could possibly possess such a handsome husband,” she joked feebly.

“I won’t let you forget,” he answered. “I won’t give you the chance to let me slip your mind.”

Gunnilde’s heart gave a leap in her breast. “Are you saying—” that you don’t want to be parted with me? she thought, but did not quite have the nerve to say. “—that you won’t ever send me down to Wycliffe Hall without you?” she concluded instead.

“Not if I can help it.” He cast a furtive look at her beneath his lashes. “You would not like it there without me in any case, would you?”

“No, I don’t expect I would,” she admitted. His shoulders relaxed. Was he gratified by that admission? And why did she want to please him so much these days? Gunnilde shied away from the reason, for it was a hopeless one.

“As married courtiers I daresay we will spend the majority of our time together,” she continued lightly. “I know you have to do your thirty days a year for King and country—”

“Forty,” he corrected her.

“But other than that, is there any reason we should have to be apart?” She caught her breath as she waited for his reply.

“None that I know of,” he answered after a few heartbeats. “Does that please you?” His eyes did not quite meet hers.

“Quite well,” she replied breezily. “After all, there is no one else here presently that I like so well as you.” No sooner had she said it than she felt a flutter of anxiety. She ought not to have admitted that so soon. He would no doubt think her foolish in the extreme.

“Really?” he asked.

“Hal does not count,” she said quickly, “for he is family.”

He opened his mouth and suddenly, Gunnilde knew she had to prevent him from telling her that she did not rank so highly in his estimations. If he said that out loud it would hurt. It would hurt a lot. “I know you don’t feel the same way,” she gabbled, “but with time mayhap—”

“I already like you better than anyone else,” he corrected her. Gunnilde stared at him. “I do not...put myself out to please others or bestow my confidences lightly. However surprising it may be, it turns out I prefer your company above all others.”

“S-surprising?” Gunnilde stammered as she reeled over this confession.

“Yes, for I did not intend to like you. My initial impression of you was poor.”

Gunnilde’s heart sank, and she swallowed painfully. “Oh,” she whispered. Doubtless it was her dumpy figure and too-large teeth that were to blame.

He twisted against the cushions to face her fully. “Why do you look like that? When you know full well you felt the same way about me!”

“No, for I always thought you were beautiful,” she said defensively. She wished she had never started this conversation.

“We were not speaking of looks,” James said impatiently. “But if we were—”

“Yes?” Gunnilde lifted her chin.

“If we were then I would have to admit that I—I noticed your...personal charms long before anything else about you,” he said, turning bright red.

She ought to take exception to his disapproval on sight but shamefully Gunnilde found she did not care about that right now. “Which personal charms?” she demanded with bated breath.

James huffed out a breath. “Gunnilde...”

“Tell me! Please,” she added in appeal.

He met her eyes fleetingly. “Your...person,” he admitted in strangled tones.

“Before I did not know...that is, I had no idea that I was attracted to...buxom women.” He closed his eyes as though mortified by such a confession.

“It disturbed me at first, how strongly attracted I was to you, for I thought your character was, well...”

“Never mind my character,” Gunnilde urged him, sitting up. “You were attracted to my person? From the outset?”

“To a disturbing degree,” he replied in clipped tones. “I spoke of you to Neville one time, he defended you, of course.” He shook his head. “I think he found me out at once.”

“What did you say of me?”

“I scarcely remember. Something about your manner of dress being improper.” He sent an apologetic glance her way. “Then he told me what the bishop had said about women with horned hairstyles, tempting men from the path of virtue. I told him I could well imagine you did.”

“Tempt men?” Gunnilde asked in disbelief.

“Yes, for you tempted me.”

Gunnilde gasped. “ James ,” she breathed. It was the single most astonishing and flattering thing anyone had ever said about her. “Did you really say that?”

“I did. I surprised myself as much as Neville,” he added. “Later, of course, I realized that you weren’t just some flaunting siren—”

Gunnilde reached across to stop his lips. He peered over her fingers with surprise. “I’d quite like to sit with the idea of you thinking me a flaunting siren for a while, if you don’t mind,” she said.

When she let her hand fall away, James caught and held it fast, before lifting it slowly back to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. Gunnilde stared at him.

“I said you weren’t just a flaunting siren. I still think of you that way,” he confessed. “I think of it a lot. Especially when we are here together.”

“In our bedchamber?” she queried croakily.

He nodded. “Sometimes it takes me a long time before I can get to sleep, knowing you’re lying next to me in the dark and feeling your warmth stealing over me. I feel like I’ll never be truly cold again,” he said on a shaky outward breath

Gunnilde gazed at him. “James...” she whispered, feeling quite overcome.

He swallowed, and when he would not meet her eyes with his, she reached out to touch his face and turn it toward her own.

He did not resist, and when their gazes met, Gunnilde was stunned by the expression in the depths of his own.

Feeling almost mesmerized, she closed the distance between them. “Kiss me, James,” she uttered huskily, and their lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss which almost had Gunnilde swooning. If Arthur Conway had ever kissed her thus, she would surely have demanded he married her on the spot!

Her arms twining about James’s neck, she melted against him with a blissful sigh, as they continued sipping sweetly at each other’s lips.

James’s hands roamed over her back, clasping her to him with increasing urgency.

Wanting more, Gunnilde parted her lips over his but he did not seemingly take the hint.

She would wait in vain for him to deepen the kiss, she realized.

There had been the merest suggestion of tongue in their previous forays, and she was his first kiss.

Screwing her courage to the sticking place, she touched the tip of her tongue to his bottom lip and teased him there. James went very still.

She was not sure whether the hammering heart she could feel was her own, or his or the both of theirs combined, for her breasts were pressed up against his chest and she could feel his every breath as though it were her own.

The shocking intimacy of breathing so closely to one another’s faces made her head swim.

She tried to draw back to ascertain whether he liked it or not, but his hand slid into her hair and held her in place with a firm grip.

Guessing he must not hate it, she did it again, this time dragging her tongue fully across the fullness of his bottom lip.

James gasped and boldly, she took the opportunity to slip her tongue inside his mouth to seek out his own.

James went wild . The next thing Gunnilde knew she was lying flat on her back, and he was fully atop her, their tongues tangling along with their limbs.

She was acutely aware of his muscled thighs straining against hers, along with something else which pressed into her belly and thighs with increasing brazenness.

“ Gunnilde ,” he gasped raggedly against her mouth, his eyes glazed, one hand still gripping her hair tight.

He threw his head back to drag some air into his lungs.

Gunnilde caressed his shoulders while he caught his breath; they were such nice shoulders, she thought dreamily.

Gods, he was the most beautiful man. She could scarcely believe he was gazing down at her with such mingled reverence and, well, lust.

Absently, she ran her hand down to rub his chest. He did not have much by way of chest hair, just a light sprinkling of coppery swirls.

She petted it absently, twitching it with her fingers.

He gave a stifled groan. “May I...?” He was staring at her breasts, she realized, and small wonder for her shift was so pulled about and twisted that it gave precious little by way of coverage.

Impulsively she flung her arms above her head.

“Help me to take this off,” she murmured.

Nothing loath, James seized hold of the filmy fabric and dragged it up and over her head, leaving her entirely naked beneath him.

“You can touch me if you like,” she offered a trifle shyly when he remained where he was staring down at her.