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She turned her head and sent him a reassuring smile. “I know.”

She did? Then he remembered. “Old Janet told you so?”

Her smile widened. “Yes, Old Janet.”

He grunted. That pleased her? “I’ll send someone in to attend you.”

She glanced at the second pitcher of water. “Why? There’s still water warm enough for me to wash. I don’t need anyone.”

He wanted to ask why she was still lying there. Didn’t she want to wash all traces of him off her body? “It’s been a long time,” he heard himself admit instead, “since I’ve been with a woman.” Gods, was he making excuses now? “Not since –” Instead of vocalizing it, he gestured to the left side of his face and braced himself to bear her sympathetic reaction.

“Good,” said Aimee Ankatel simply.

He turned his head sharply to look at her in surprise. Good? He huffed out a breath in something damned near a laugh. Probably the closest he had come to it in years.

When he walked back to his room moments later, entirely naked, he was still fighting the upturn of his lips. Good, he thought. His little wife thought it was good he had not lain with a woman in seven years. He made for the washstand and briskly washed himself down before dropping down into his own bed and scooting into the middle of it.

He stared up at the canopy. He doubted she would think it so good if he had declared an intention of staying in her bed until he was good and ready for another round in the sheets with her, as for an instant he had felt strongly inclined to do. Or would she?

He hesitated a moment, considering the matter. For the first time, he noticed his own crest on the pillow bearer beside him. He turned his head and stared at it a moment. Then, slowly he cast his eyes around the room, taking in all the costly furnishings and gifts his wife had showered him with.

His crest was fucking everywhere. He turned over the top of the sheet covering his stomach and saw a whole line of portcullises embroidered in gold thread. Why hadn’t he noticed them before? He puffed out his breath. Had Aimee sewn the devices with her own fingers? He ran a blunt fingertip over the tiny stitches. And if she had, why did that suddenly make his chest feel so tight?

13

Aimee woke late the next morning, and by the time she had descended downstairs, the table in the dining chamber was empty, though it bore signs of more than one person having broken their fast. “Good morning,” she greeted Golda who was sweeping up crumbs from the table. “It seems I am last one down this morning.”

Golda pursed her lips, straightening up. “Both ladies graced us with their presence this morn,” she commented dryly. “Before they set forth a-visiting.”

Aimee nodded, sitting herself down. “Lord Kentigern told me they would be visiting acquaintance at the palace this day.”

Golda sniffed. “I doubt they will set the place alight. Pair of old crows!”

“Golda!” Aimee reproached her mildly. “Mistress Freda and I actually spent a very pleasant day together yesterday.”

“Good of her!” Golda huffed. “She ought to be waiting on you, not that sour bag of goods as is her cousin!”

“Well,” Aimee said soothingly. “She is my sister-in-law’s companion. It is small wonder her loyalties are divided.”

“Huh!” Golda slammed a plate of baked fish before her. “You should tell his high and mightiness how his own sister thinks herself too good for your company!”

Aimee helped herself to a piece of bread. “I think he knows,” she admitted ruefully, remembering their conversation from the night before.

Golda’s mouth fell open. “Who told him, do you suppose, milady?” she wondered aloud. After a moment, she shrugged. “I daresay he has eyes in his ’ead, for all one of them’s blind.”

Aimee shot her an admonishing glance, but as her mouth was full of bread and butter, she could utter no reproach. It wasn’t really Lord Kentigern’s conversation that had occupied her thoughts thus far this morning, she acknowledged to herself as her cheeks warmed. But rather, his actions.

She felt tender between her legs, reminding her of what had transpired between them, but she was nowhere near as sore as she had been before. She had certainly enjoyed it a good deal more this time. Last time, she had been unable to lie easy when he had toyed with her body. He hadn’t really spoken much, and she had been tense and nervous. She had also harbored a horrible suspicion that he did not enjoy touching her.

Last night had been different somehow. It’s been a long time, he had told her. Since I’ve been with a woman. Aimee could not help the wayward smile that curved her lips, so she pressed her ale cup to her mouth to hide it from Golda’s sharp gaze. Lord Kentigern had not lain with any woman but her, not since he had been so brutally injured in the war. That had to be six years at least, she marveled.

She felt highly gratified by his admission. She was his wife, and it was right that he should tell her such things. She was unspeakably proud that he could let his guard down around her. She wanted to receive all his confidences and guard them jealously. She would say all the right things and soothe his savage brow. She would be the companion and helpmeet of his bosom.

Her spirits, which had plummeted to an all-time low in the wake of their marriage, were soaring giddily once more. All would be well, Aimee thought. She just had to be patient and give him time to accept her in his life. It was bound to be strange and even jarring to him to suddenly have a wife by his side to make room for. She just had to be patient and slowly prove herself invaluable to him and all would fall into its proper place.

At midday, her father called in. “I cannot tarry long, daughter,” he told her, clasping her hand in welcome. “For I am speaking at the guild this afternoon. I just wanted to drop this by for you.” He handed over a wrapped package.

“What is it, Father?”