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“Like those times you told me the way I dressed or wore my hair would look ridiculous if I was not so pretty.”

“I thought you would grow angry every time I let something tactless like that slip,” he confessed. “But whenever you laughed or told me you meant to take it for a compliment, I realized how bloody nice you were, and my attraction to you increased tenfold.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I told Neville the way you dressed was indecent, but it was only because of the nature of my own thoughts toward you.”

“Do you still have them?” she asked curiously.

He turned his head. “Indecent thoughts? About you?” She nodded.

“All the damned time,” he groaned. “When I started to realize how much I liked you, I became so clumsy, blundering about like a fool. I was supposed to be a polished courtier but all that went out of the window where you were concerned. I don’t know how you put up with me or ever formed a good opinion of me, in truth. You were so patient.”

“You poor, poor thing,” she breathed. “Shall I take pity on you now?”

He caught his breath. “It would be a mercy.”

They moved over to the bed, and after hurriedly undressing one another, spent a very delightful twenty minutes finding out exactly what Gunnilde could have done to alleviate James’s suffering on their wedding night.

“Ah gods,” he panted, “I do not want to spend in your hand. It’s.

..it’s a good deal messier than when I touch you. You might not like it.”

“Oh, but I would not mind the messiness,” she assured him with perfect composure. James looked horribly conflicted for an instant. “In fact, I should like to see it,” she said, tipping the balance.

He made a noise deep in his throat and then he came apart in her hands completely. Gunnilde, fascinated by his masculine beauty in the aftermath, watched him closely as recovered.

“My gods,” James groaned. “Did that—was that—?”

“I loved touching you,” she said with perfect truth.

“Let me get cleaned up.” He rolled off the bed and crossed to the basin. When he was done, he refilled the basin and motioned for her to come over and join him. “Come and wash your hands.” He stood behind her, his hands entwined with hers as they shared the soap flakes between them.

“It’s probably as well I did not touch you like this on our wedding night,” Gunnilde reflected. “For you would not have been so free and comfortable with me afterward as you are now.”

He laughed. “No, I think it is safe to say that I would not.” He kissed the back of her neck.

“It is good that I gave you time to get warmed up to me,” she continued, wiping her hands on the drying cloth.

“Warmed up? I was burned to crisp from the outset! Let’s get back into bed.”

Hand in hand, they sauntered over to the bed and clambered under the covers, immediately coming back together again underneath them.

“I used to wonder, you know, what it would be like to have someone look at me through the eyes of love,” she admitted quietly. “To wonder what it must it feel like to be able to wield such an effect on someone. And now I know,” she concluded wonderingly.

He ran a finger down her cheek. “And how does it feel?”

She smiled at him. “Don’t you know?”

Hesitantly, he answered her smile. “Yes, I know.” They kissed again, and Gunnilde felt her heart skip in her chest. Maybe she would be the one fainting this time. She could not hold back her smile at the thought.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing, just...remembering things. They appear in an altogether different light now that I know you love me.”

“What things?”

She ducked her head. “Things like you swooning that time.”

“I did not swoon!”

“You did, you know, James,” she said earnestly.

“I know,” he admitted at once. “I won’t do it again though.”

“And you rubbing my feet in that inn.”

He appeared to consider this. “Yes, I would not do that for anyone else,” he said, flopping onto his back. He extended his arm so she could lie on it and Gunnilde shuffled in close.

“Did you hear what the King said as we left the throne room?”

“He told the Queen to mind her own damned business.” James scowled. “Someone had to.”

She gave a watery chuckle. “Well, I am not likely to argue with you on that score. She was rather awful, wasn’t she?

I will own I was put quite out of humor with her.

Indeed, I’ve decided I no longer want to be the Queen’s favorite after all,” she declared, her eyes kindling.

“She presented what I said to her in the worst possible light and made me sound quite ridiculous, as if I did not know you at all, and I find I cannot forgive her for it. Besides, it is not at all what I thought it would be like.”

“You mean, being a lady-in-waiting?” he enquired.

She nodded. “Strange to say, Mistress Bartree is probably the only one I shall bother to maintain a friendship with in future. Some of them are pleasant enough, but they already have their own particular friends, and no room for me. I find I do not care enough to try anymore. I have my own friends after all.”

“Well, I do not mind if you are not the Queen’s favorite, but I would rather you did not become the King’s,” James admitted, angling a wry look her way. “He called you Hilde again, I noticed.”

“He did,” she acknowledged, “but I think in truth it is Hal who is his new favorite. Though King Wymer is definitely warming up to you now.” She shot a speculative look his way. “I believe in spite of everything, you will end up with the post of Royal musician.”

“Yes, though if I do, it will be at least partly due to his partiality for you Paynes. Wymer has not heard one note of my compositions to my knowledge.”

“No, but he said he thought you were sensible and a man of honor even if you were an artist.”

A smile tugged at James’s lips. “High praise indeed. But the only reason he thinks that is because I had the good sense to hold on to you. I heard what he said at our wedding feast. He thinks me fortunate indeed to have got my hands on you.”

Gunnilde’s eyes opened wide. “I do not think I am at all the sort of woman to catch his eye!” she spluttered. “Besides, he is quite devoted to the Queen.”

“ These days he is,” James corrected her. “But it has not always been so.”

“That was before my time.” Gunnilde shrugged.

“Well, if he starts to get too fond, we may have to retreat into the country.”

“To Wycliffe Hall?”

“Yes, I suppose.” He spoke without enthusiasm.

“If you get terribly successful, we might be able to buy a second residence and live there instead.”

He propped up on one elbow. “That might not be such a bad idea,” he said slowly.

“Did you mean what you said about needing me to inspire you?”

“I don’t think you realize how wearied I felt of everything before you,” he said frankly.

“How irritable and tired. And now I feel quite different. I feel...invigorated. Inspired. Like I could write anything, so long as you were at my side. Somehow when you describe even palace events, they sound more vivid, more real to me.”

She liked that . Really liked it. “Just think...” He waited patiently for her to finish her thought. “Think of all the pieces you could write, of all the royal events you could commemorate with me there to inspire you. Maybe I will propel you to success after all.”

“There is no ‘maybe’ about it,” he answered sanguinely. “You are my salvation. Even if they do not appoint me royal musician, I suspect we will be inundated with patrons and requests.”

“Sure to be,” she agreed, “after the huge success of ‘I Cannot Show the Love I Owe.’ And the scandal of today, of course.” She bit her lip.

“Everyone is sure to be talking of it for months and months to come. James?” He turned his head to look at her.

“You are not worried about becoming a figure of ignominy and scandal anymore, are you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ve decided I rather like it.” Gunnilde gasped as he rolled her onto her back and shifted over her. “After all, what did I expect? Marrying one of those horned temptresses the bishop warned us all about.”

Gunnilde started to laugh, but as his lips descended on hers, he soon put a stop to that.