Page 46

“O h my gods!” Gunnilde wailed. “I thought I had killed you!” She was stood beside the bed, entirely naked, holding a pitcher in her hands. Her eyes were huge and scared. James blinked up at her in confusion.

His euphoric haze had been cruelly dispelled, though the blood was still thrumming through his veins and a feeling of well-being lingered. He shivered violently. For some reason his face and shoulders were wet. “Did you throw water on me?” he asked in confusion.

“Yes, I did!” she burst out. “That is what they do at my father’s tournament when someone is knocked unconscious.”

“I was not knocked unconscious,” he pointed out.

“Well, you sort of were,” Gunnilde replied, worrying her lip anxiously. James peered up at her, then rose onto one elbow. Gunnilde set the empty jug upon the floor and straightened back up. “Do not exert yourself, husband, I beg of you,” she extorted breathily.

Instantly he felt flooded with gratification, though whether it was her calling him husband or the tone of voice she used, he was not certain, for he found he liked them both. “Come back to bed,” he exhorted, sitting up and pulling back the covers. “You must be freezing.”

Gunnilde scarcely seemed to hear him, her hands were fluttering about his chest. “Your—your heart... It does not feel...irregular or weak?” she asked earnestly.

It was beating like a godsdamn drum, James reflected.

The blood was singing in his veins. He had never felt so alive.

“I feel entirely well,” he told her truthfully.

“Better than I ever have.” He lifted his hand to touch her hair, smoothing it back from her face.

It looked rather untidy now, no doubt at least partly due to his own mishandling of it.

“No,” Gunnilde said, shaking her head and worrying her lip with her teeth. “That can’t be right. You fainted.”

“I did not faint,” he assured her, catching her arm and drawing her back into the bed beside him.

“Yes, you did, James!” she said unevenly, then burst into tears. “You—you slumped over me like a dead man and then toppled sideways in a dead faint. I could not rouse you!”

He tutted, drawing the covers up around her shoulders.

“Come here. Did I scare you? I’m sorry, sweeting,” he fussed over her, kissing first her brow, then down her cheek, catching her chin and turning her face toward his.

She allowed his coaxing, consoling kisses but gave an exclamation when he ran his tongue along her bottom lip.

“James! You can’t possibly mean to—”

“Shhhh, let me reassure you,” he whispered into the shell of her ear. “I need to make you feel better.” He slid his hand under the neckline of her shift to gently cup her breast. Misinterpreting his gesture, Gunnilde lifted her own hand to rest it over his heart.

“You feel how strongly it beats?” he asked, stilling at once.

She nodded and he smiled down at her. “You see? My heart is fine.”

“Then why did you—?”

“It was just...too good,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders and turning rather red. “I was overcome. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“But what if you do?”

“Then you can throw cold water on me again.”

“No,” Gunnilde insisted. “I need reassurance that your health is not too delicate for—”

He drew back to look at her. “For what?”

“Copulation,” she said, lifting her chin. He spluttered incoherently. “I want to consult a physician, James,” she said, a stubborn look on her pretty face.

“A physician?” James was horrified.

“Yes. There must be several famous ones here at the palace.”

“I am not seeing a physician, Gunnilde. I’m positively bursting with health and vigor!”

“Well, maybe now you are but moments ago you gave me the fright of my life!”

“And I apologize for that,” he placated her, “and assure you that I won’t do so again.”

Gunnilde’s palm planted in the center of his chest, pushing him firmly back.

“You cannot possibly ensure any such thing, James, and you know it. Your health is far too precious to me to overlook this.”

Too precious? Her words affected him strangely. Against his will, he felt his resolve weakening. “I am not seeing a physician, Gunnilde, and definitely no one here at the palace.”

“In that case, how would it be if we were to consult with Sir Ned’s witch instead?” she asked, clasping her hands together.

His brows snapped together. “With whom?”

“You remember, Cuthbert mentioned her at supper. Sir Ned has been consulting her about his ailment. He said she had visited Sir Ned here in his rooms.”

James frowned, not caring to be associated with anyone connected with Sir Ned Bevan. “I do not want—”

“I could easily ask Cuthbert to bring her to along to us next time she visits him,” she cut in eagerly. “ Please , James?” She turned a look of entreaty upon him that he felt entirely powerless to withstand.

“Oh, very well,” he conceded with ill grace. “If it will put your mind at rest.”

“It will, thank you,” she said, turning in his arms and embracing him warmly.

He closed his arms about her at once, dragging her closer. His libidinous body perked right back up at finding the object of his desire in such gratifying proximity to him once again. Gunnilde made a stifled noise of protest as he kissed her neck.

“James, you need to lie quietly now for the rest of the night,” she tutted.

“I feel entirely spry now. Remarkably so.”

“I am not risking it!” she said, loosening his grip on her waist. “Not until we have consulted with Sir Ned’s witch.”

James scowled. “Don’t call her that. It makes me want nothing to do with the woman.”

“I do not know her given name,” she pointed out sensibly. She settled on her side, facing away from him as he crowded against her back.

“Gunnilde...”

“Good night, James,” she said firmly. “Think calming thoughts, please.”

She could definitely feel his hardness against her buttocks. Sliding a hand over her hip, he sighed. The evening had not ended perfectly, though it had definitely scaled those heights earlier.

He could not really complain though, not when he was free to wrap himself about Gunnilde’s pleasing form in the dark under the covers.