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J ames rushed her into bed once he had helped her with her fastenings. After unpinning her veil, he urged her to simply leave her hair as it was.

“I rather think you like my scandalous hair arrangements these days, husband,” she ventured, sliding under the sheets in her thin shift.

“Oh, I do,” he murmured without shame as he stripped down to his braies.

“What would you say to one horn, if it was central to my head, instead of one at each side?” she enquired doubtfully. “Only, personally I think it might look a little odd.”

“I am not good at picturing such things,” he admitted. “But if you thought it looked well, then I am sure I would agree.” He plunged his hands into the basin of cold water and set about washing at a brisk pace.

“I suppose it would not look much stranger than a steeple hennin,” she mused. “Still, I think embroidering unicorns on garments would be a good deal easier.”

“Embroidering unicorns?” he echoed, casting aside the soap flakes and snatching up a drying cloth.

“For my outfit for the banquet,” she explained. “Only fancy, the Queen ever so kindly decided to make me a present of a new gown for the occasion. I was telling her my ideas and she insisted her seamstresses were the only ones who could fulfil such an order at such short notice.”

“And what will this gown be like?” James asked, crossing the room to join her.

“Purple velvet over an undergown of cloth of gold,” Gunnilde responded in an awed voice. “Does it not sound very grand?”

“And will you have slashes in the velvet to reveal the gold cloth beneath?” he asked.

“That would be my preference, but I do not know if the Queen’s dressmakers are familiar with such new techniques.”

“When do you meet with them?”

“The day after tomorrow. Can I borrow one of your family crests to lend to them?”

He nodded. “Maybe we should arrange for my outfit to match yours,” he said, climbing under the covers and taking her in his arms. He sighed against her hair. “I arranged for a tailor to come to our rooms tomorrow morn at nine.”

“Did you really?” She sounded pleased. “He must certainly get to work on a new doublet for you. Purple would look well on you, trimmed with gold. But then, everything looks good on you,” she sighed.

“Do you think so?” He did not care what he wore, so long as she was satisfied with it.

“Yes, it used to vex me, but now I take pride in the fact you are the handsomest man at court. Estrilda recommended a needlewoman to me this afternoon and I am to give her a pair of my tippets tomorrow for her to adorn. She was not sure about embroidering slippers as they must use much smaller needles for shoe leather.”

“We will likely have to visit a cordwainer for that level of expertise,” he said dubiously. “Do you recall the name of the one who made your favorite slippers?”

“Yes, but there is not time to get a whole new pair of shoes made up. The banquet is only just over a week away. In truth, I have been very remiss over the arrangements,” she said, sounding remorseful.

“Well, we have been busy,” he pointed out. “A lot has happened over the past couple of weeks.”

“True,” she agreed, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“I also visited a jeweler this morning to order you a new posy ring.”

“Did you?” Gunnilde sounded pleased, then her face fell. “Oh, but Mistress Bartree told me today that she does not care to have her ring returned after all.” She lifted her hand to gaze at the gold band. “It seems it holds no positive association for her. She said I can keep it and welcome.”

James shrugged. “There is nothing to prevent you from wearing two rings. After all...” He reached across to take her hand and turn it so he could contemplate the ring.

“This was the one used at our ceremony. I cannot show the love I owe ,” he read aloud.

“The inscription is on the outside of the ring.” He frowned.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“For some reason, I thought it was on the inside. The one I commissioned for you has the writing inside.”

“Oh, well, that sounds nice. Like a secret betwixt the two of us. Did you have the same thing inscribed?” she asked curiously.

“No.” He flushed. “In truth I do not know if you will care for the inscription I went with,” he admitted uneasily. “It was an impulsive choice.”

“As long as it is not ‘ Daughter to Sir Aubron Payne of Payne Manor ’ I will be content,” she told him dryly.

“When did I...?” Oh, that first letter he had written home after their marriage. He colored faintly, thinking of his former ineptness. “I hope I have improved somewhat in recent days.”

“Oh, you have,” she assured him, patting his chest. “I am sure I will like it, whatever words you chose. I am just heartily sorry that you will have to face so many expenses all at once.” She sounded guilty.

“The Queen insists we must serve peacock and swan at our banquet. I am sure it will be very costly.”

“I’m working on a piece of music I think will sell,” James told her. “So, we need not worry overmuch about getting into debt.”

“Really?” she said swiftly, looking intrigued.

“It is not a ballad,” he said before she could ask. “But it was inspired by that first tale you told me. The one of the lady left to molder among the ruins of her childhood home.”

“Mistress Bartree’s tale? I hope you include her triumphant rise to fame and fortune at the end,” she said.

“Not in this piece, but perhaps in the next,” he said vaguely. “It could have companion pieces.”

“Have you titled it yet? Only, I have just had an idea. Do you know what I think you should call it, James?” she asked with sudden enthusiasm.

“No, what?”

“‘I Cannot Show the Love I Owe,’” she said, lifting her head. “Would that not be the perfect title?”

He considered this. “It is a good title, certainly.”

“So, will you call it that?” she persisted excitedly. He nodded as she rose up onto her elbow, affording him a view of her abundant charms.

“Yes,” he replied. “Whatever you will it shall be.”

“Really?” She looked flattered.

“It also occurred to me today that I should approach the Bishop of Badsbury with the last two pieces I composed.” He shrugged.

“It would not hurt to seek an interview with him. I could even write to the Bishop of Hudde asking him for a letter of recommendation. If I do not seek out these opportunities, they will not land in my lap.”

Gunnilde nodded. “Yes, that is a good notion. Well done, husband.” Her eyes roamed over his face. “You will never guess what Mistress Fern told me before you arrived home. I can tell you, as you’re my husband,” she said quickly, “and because I know you will not tell anyone else.”

“What was it?” James asked uneasily.

“That Sir Ned is laboring under a curse!” she said, dropping her voice.

“Apparently, he crossed some old crone who cursed him soundly and told him until he made reparation for his past mistreatment of the fairer sex, then he would never lie with a woman again!” She drew back to look at him. “What say you to that?”

“How could she prevent him?” James asked, spotting the flaw in at once.

“Well, apparently, he approached Mistress Fern because ever since this old woman screeched in his face, he cannot well...” She dropped her gaze demurely.

“A certain part of him is not functioning as it should. That was part of the reason why she agreed to come and see us yesterday. When she got him to list the women he had wronged, he could only think of me and this old woman he apparently collided with in the marketplace. At first, Fern said she was disposed to disbelieve him, but now she’s not so sure. ”

James’s eyebrows rose. “So, the knight you overheard that time...” he said, voicing his long-held suspicion aloud.

“Yes, it was he,” she admitted frankly.

“And has he yet apologized?” James could not keep a certain chilliness from his voice.

“Not really. Fern says he is lamentably poor with words, especially when he is ashamed. Apparently, he was too embarrassed to approach me about it at the time and when he had finally worked up the courage, he found I had left for the winter capital already.”

“Oh yes. Bashful is he?” James found himself harboring harsh feelings toward the knight still. “Well, I suppose he will just have to suffer until he can bring himself to do the right thing.”

“Presumably he will approach me with an apology at some point,” Gunnilde said impassively. James found himself bristling at the thought, even though she did not sound excited at the prospect. “I have another secret too, but it’s the Queen’s,” she admitted in a rush. “Shall I tell it to you?”

“Is it anything to do with us?”

“No.”

“Then keep her confidence.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled at him.

“Are we going down to supper after this?” she asked, giving his chest a tentative stroke.

James sucked in a breath to stave off his immediate reaction.

He was suddenly devoutly glad that he had not been similarly cursed.

Perhaps he had some small sympathy for Bevan after all.

“Only, the hour is a little early for us to sleep, though it is pleasant to lie here together discussing our day together.” She tipped forward to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“I was not really intending for us to sleep,” he confessed.

“What, then?”

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her shoulder to her neck. “I thought we could practice building up my resistance to pleasure,” he whispered into her ear.

“I see...”

“I want you to do your best to render me entirely senseless again,” he admitted huskily.

“James!”

“But this time I’ll resist, by remembering to breathe.”

“But what if you forget?”

“Then you can remind me.”

James’s hands settled either side of her waist as he rolled her more firmly atop himself. She tried to pull back, no doubt to ask him if she was not too heavy, but his lips chased hers, unwilling to part.

“Stay where you are,” he begged when their kiss broke. “Just as you are.”

“Above you? Like this?” Gunnilde asked with surprise.