“Ah, but you object most strenuously to having guards watch you, as I recall.”
“And what have you been all this night?” she retorted indignantly.
He sat up, grinning at her. “But I got to hold you, wench. ’Twas a duty I did not mind.”
“You are impossible.” She laughed, leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. “But I am grateful. ’Twas much more comfortable here, on the soft grass, than on the hard floor in your hall.”
“And I make a nice pillow?”
“That too.”
His finger traced along her collarbone, then playfully detoured down the valley of her breasts. “I will have you back in my bed this eventide.”
“And what has made you think I want to be there?” she said primly.
“You do.”
She shook her head. “We have had a truce here, but when we return—”
“Shush.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against her neck. And then abruptly, making her squeal in surprise, Royce had her stretched out under him. “Now admit it. You like my bed.”
He was incorrigible this morn. And she was in no mood to be serious either.
Wicked laughter danced in her eyes. “I like your bed fine, Saxon. ’Tis a most comfortable bed.”
Her tone left little doubt that she was talking only about the bed. “I will not let you up”—he began nibbling at her lips—“until you admit”—his tongue teased her now—“that you want me.”
“Then, milord…” Her arms curled around his neck, her fingers sliding up into the soft waves of his hair. “We will be here for a very long time.”
It was late morning when they returned to the hall. They did not spend the whole morning at the lake, though Kristen did swim once more before finally dressing. But when Royce set her up on his horse, where she rode in front of him, it was not toward the hall that he headed.
He took her through forests, through grain fields, through meadows of wildflowers, and through pastures. He showed her his land, his people, the villages. She saw that those who worked at the manor were only a handful in actuality. There were so many more people who worked the land, who tended the herds of cattle and horses, who hunted in the forests. And she sensed Royce’s pride in what he was showing her.
The morning became an enchanted time. The warm feeling of contentment with which Kristen had awoken continued, as did Royce’s good humor. Most men became cranky when they were overtired. Royce was teasing and playful, almost ridiculously so. He took exception to nothing she did or said. He would drop the reins to make her grab for them, while he grabbed for her breasts. His hands would constantly stray to her legs, for she sat astride the horse, her chainse hiked up to her thighs. He would not leave her bare skin alone, no matter how many times she slapped away his hands. He would tickle her until she begged mercy, then nuzzle and kiss her neck. He laughed at her and with her. He simply would not leave her alone.
And Kristen enjoyed all of it. For a while she felt free. And she felt loved, even if his feelings did not run that deep. So it was natural that she should regret returning to the hall and reality. She would go to her work in the hall. He would no doubt go straight to bed, since Alden had taken the King and his party hunting in Royce’s absence. They had even heard them in the forest, though Royce did not ride toward them. And the lack of horses in the stable said they had not returned.
He lifted her down from the horse, but his hands did not leave her waist immediately. His expression was subdued now. Perhaps he too was regretting the end of their idyll. She would like to think so.
“Your cheeks are blooming with color.”
Kristen smiled slightly, offering, “The fresh air.”
“Mayhap, but that has naught to do with the sparkle in your eyes. I would like to hear that you enjoyed yourself.”
“Would you?” His horse had been taken away, there were at least three other men near, and he was still holding her. “Will you keep me here until I admit it?”
He grinned at the reminder, and then he laughed, lifting her up for a hard kiss before setting her down with a whack to her backside. “Vixen. I would not be so boorish as to keep you in the stable. But later…”
“Threats!” she cried playfully. “I suppose I will have to admit it, then. I did in fact enjoy myself.”
“Then as long as you are in an admitting mood…”
“Nay, Saxon, I make only one confession a day.”
He swallowed a laugh, trying to look disappointed. “You have no mercy, wench,” he said as he led her out of the stable into the yard.
“I suppose your persistence should be commended.” She sighed.
