28

28

Aimee saw the familiar city walls of Caer Lyoness looming in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. She could not wait to get out of the saddle, even though she had been lifted onto the docile Ivy’s back from the first, and Jakeman had taken the more spirited Deirdre.

When she had ventured to question this switching of horses, her husband had directed an ironic look her way. “You want to be jolted about by the white mare for five hours, then say so now.”

Of course, Dierdre had chosen that moment to aim a vicious kick at a stable hand imprudent enough to pass close by her flanks. He only narrowly avoided injury, and Aimee had hastily assured Jakeman that he could ride her pretty white horse back to the capital with welcome.

She patted Ivy’s neck and admitted to herself that she vastly preferred the quiet brown mare to her own. Maybe Jakeman would do a permanent swap of steeds with her. After all, her father need never know. She directed a surreptitious glance in her husband’s direction. He had been quiet on the ride home.

Likely, he was simply tired, she told herself, after the exertions of the day. It had been a disappointing day for him, she reminded herself, for he did not like to lose, however gracious she believed he appeared in defeat. Just because she thought he looked his best in such moments did not mean he enjoyed them.

She sighed to herself, knowing she was still in disgrace with him about the gown. For her part, she still bore a grudge that he had not told her of his visit to her sister’s house. Maybe after all, this was what married life was like? A never-ending stream of grievances and injured feelings!

As it was the height of summer, darkness was only just starting to fall as they had reached Lime Street. Being lifted down from the saddle, Aimee was profoundly grateful to feel the cobbled streets of her hometown beneath her feet again. Jakeman took charge of the horses, and Konrad ushered her up the steps to the large black and white timbered dwelling she had not realized she had grown so fond of.

They were met in the corridor by a startled looking Matthews hurrying toward them. “My lord!” he exclaimed. “My lady! We were not expecting your return until the morrow.”

“What of it,” Konrad snapped testily.

“We returned early,” Aimee hastily interjected in what she hoped was a soothing manner, noticing Matthews glance back down the corridor. “Is something amiss?”

Matthews looked embarrassed. “No, no, milady, of course not!” he hurried to assure her. “’Tis only that Mistress Freda is entertaining in the dining chamber, and we have not set places for you at table.”

Aimee and Konrad exchanged glances. “Please do not interrupt Mistress Freda and her guests,” she said, lowering her voice at once. “I, er … I do not currently feel up to partaking of company after our arduous journey.” She turned to Konrad. “Perhaps you, my lord – ?”

“No,” he replied firmly. “No, I need to rid myself of all my travel dirt and dust before I am fit to be seen. Besides, I am currently disinclined for the society of others.”

Aimee bit her lip. She knew the guests were likely her father and sister, but she felt unequal to facing them right now. “Would it be unpardonably rude of us to just sneak up to our rooms to wash and retire for the evening?” she asked her husband frankly, her gaze darting longingly toward the staircase.

“No, I think it would be damned sensible,” Konrad responded at once. “It is not as though they will be offended or disappointed. They are not even expecting us.” He nodded to Matthews. “Have hot water sent up immediately but try to keep our arrival quiet if you can,” he specified. “Have it brought to Lady Kentigern’s chamber.”

Matthews nodded. “Of course, milord.”

“I was going to request a bath,” Aimee protested.

“Her ladyship can be brought a bath,” Konrad directed at Matthews. “But in an hour’s time. Actually,” he considered a moment, “make it two hours.”

Matthews gave a bow. “Certainly, milord.”

Aimee frowned at this, but as her main desire was to escape to the quiet and solicitude of her own room, she did not concern herself overmuch and instead made for the stairs, divesting herself of her cloak and laying it over a convenient chair as she went.

Konrad was close behind her, so close that she almost shut her bedchamber door in his face. “Oh!” she exclaimed as he followed her inside. “Your pardon, I did not realize you meant to accompany me ...” She regarded him with bewilderment as he shut the door resolutely behind them and leaned his back against it, his eyes on hers. “You said you did not feel up to company just now.”

“You are not company,” he said, pushing away from the door and reaching for the laces at his throat. “You are my wife.”

“Well,” Aimee responded, feeling nettled. “You certainly could not get away from me fast enough this morning!”

“Not true,” he contradicted her flatly.

“It certainly seemed that way!”

“I was in a bad mood,” he said pulling his tunic over his head. “Because I did not want to climb out of bed with you. The feeling was an unaccustomed one, living as I always have for the battlefield. I was not quite sure how to deal with it. But now I know.” While Aimee reeled from this revelation, he flung his tunic on the floor and started unlacing his chausses.

“Why are you undressing in my room?” Aimee asked with a sudden frown.

“This is no longer your room,” he answered coolly, glancing around it like he had never really seen it before. “It is our dressing room.”

“D-dressing room?” Aimee stammered in confusion. She found she, too, was looking about the room like a simpleton. She had better snap out of this. “Then where, pray, is my bedchamber to be?” she asked, in an attempt to rally.

“You no longer require one,” he stated calmly. “As you, Aimee Bartree, belong with me in mine.”

She stared at him a moment, unable to draw breath. “Well, but Lady Wycliffe said that married nobles do not share bedchambers,” she managed to croak at last.

“I care little for what the Wycliffes think. Or anyone, for that matter. No,” he acknowledged with a sudden frown. “That is not true. I care what you think.” His gaze softened a moment. “I need to start saying these things out loud,” he muttered, and Aimee was not sure if he was speaking to her or himself.

The knock on the door startled them both, and Konrad moved away from it as Matthews entered carrying two large pails of steaming water.

“Here you are, milord,” he said jovially as he carried them across the room with his heavy tread. He set them down on the floor and turned back around. “Is this enough for now or ?… ??”

“Quite sufficient, thank you, Matthews,” Aimee answered. After all, she was to have a bath in two hours’ time. Though, why two hours she could not fathom! As soon as the door closed after the retreating Matthews, Aimee started loosening her cuff. Konrad moved toward her and helped her remove her pearls, the love heart brooch, her gold hair net, and finally her gown, so she stood in just shift and stockings before the basin.

She sighed as she pressed a hot cloth to her face.

“Sore?” came Konrad’s voice behind her.

“A little,” she admitted cautiously. “It has been a long day.” She turned her head to look over her shoulder as he moved about the room. What was he doing? To her surprise, he seemed to be collecting up an armful of things from the table where she kept her trinkets. As she watched, he gave a shrug and then carried them out of the room, disappearing up the passage.

Was he moving her possessions into his bedchamber? When he returned, she watched him surreptitiously in the looking glass. He stood before the bridal chest decorated with the wedding procession a moment, his hands on his hips, a thoughtful look in his eye.

“What do you keep in here?” he asked, meeting her eye in the glass.

Aimee shrugged. “A medley of things. Take a look, if it pleases you.”

It was only when he lifted the lid that Aimee remembered she had thrown the two bags of cheap tokens in there after buying them at the market. The breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening with horror. Pray the gods she had resecured the ties on the opened bag!

As he lifted his scorching eye to hers, Aimee knew she had not. In fact, her last memory of them was haphazardly flinging them in there as she hurried off to place the tin hedgehog on his pillow bearer. Some of them had definitely spilled out. Curses.

He cleared his throat. “You owe me some more of these, by my reckoning, wife,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Aimee’s color mounted. “I suppose I do,” she agreed in strangled tones.

Before Aimee’s astonished gaze, he stooped suddenly down and picked up the whole chest, bearing it out of the room as though it weighed no more than a cushion.

Aimee stood frozen, immobile before the basin for a full moment before giving herself a slight shake and dunking her cloth back into the water. He was acting oddly to be sure, but regardless, she needed to get clean.

She was still flustered but had completed her wash by the time he returned. Emptying the basin out of the window, she refilled it for him with clean water as he stripped down efficiently to his waist. Then she retreated to her cabinet wondering what to dress her damp, shivering body in while she waited for her bath.

After a moment’s deliberation, Aimee selected a peach-colored robe decorated with gold thread which she had not even worn before. Her shift was so damp after her wash that she dispensed with it altogether and drew the silk robe on without an undergarment. The fabric felt so soft and decadent against her skin that Aimee wondered why she had never tried it before. Of course, it would not do outside of one’s own bedchamber, but all the same. Inside it, one could indulge oneself in privacy.

Turning around, Aimee met Konrad’s eyes once more in the mirror. His seeing eye blazed so bright, Aimee was forced to lower her own. Of course, if they were to share a bedchamber from now on, she thought breathlessly, then any indulgences would be shared. Her husband unlaced his crotch and peeled down his chausses.

Aimee coughed and forced her eyes away, busying herself by first selecting a pair of embroidered slippers and then by picking up a comb and tidying her hair. For some reason, speech seemed beyond her right now, though her tiredness seemed to have slipped away like a mantle from her shoulders.

“Are you finished?” he asked, turning from the basin and starting toward her. Before she had even made her reply, he was scooping her up and bearing her along the corridor to his bedchamber. Their bedchamber, she reminded herself as the door closed behind them. He had lit candles already, and she noted he had placed the second wedding chest at the foot of the bed.

“The chest looks well there,” she commented with surprise, her eye travelling to the one by the window.

“I want to show you something,” he said gruffly, and instead of laying her on the bed as she had half expected, he carried her to the wall cabinet, setting her on her feet there and opening the door.

“That’s my trunk,” he said nodding to a battered-looking, studded wooden chest laying on the bottom shelf.

Aimee gazed at it a moment. It was a tatty old thing. “Did you want me to transfer your things into the painted chest?” she asked after a moment of silence.

He shook his head. “This was my grandfather’s. It’s where I keep things that are precious to me.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I see.” Though of course, she saw no such thing.

He held his hand out to her, and she saw the key lying on his palm. “Open it.”

Aimee blinked but took it all the same and, kneeling down, set the key in the lock and turned it. It was stiff and took some force. “This is starting to rust from disuse, Konrad.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I barely use it. Very little is precious to me, Aimee.”

For some reason, his words seemed poignant. She peered inside the dark trunk, and for a moment, though, there was nothing in it apart from some old rags.

“You can take it out,” he offered, and Aimee reached inside with a puzzled frown to lift out the bundle of rags. As it emerged from the dark interior of the chest, she recognized it was the blue and yellow gown she had ripped into shreds. She almost dropped it.

“So, this is where it went,” she whispered. “I looked everywhere.”

“I kept it.”

“I think it is beyond repair, Konrad,” she said weakly.

“Is it?”

For some reason, his question made her look up sharply. “’Tis cut to ribbons,” she pointed out.

“I know.”

She clutched the maligned dress a moment to her chest, unsure what to do with it. “This is not what I expected,” she confessed. “I thought … well, maybe some old jewels or something,” she finished lamely.

“Those are all being re-set for you,” he shrugged. “You should have them in a month or so.” Aimee started to turn toward him. “That’s not the only thing in there,” he forestalled her, and she turned back and peered inside. Seeing nothing else, she reached inside to grope in the corners until she found another scrap of cloth. As she picked it up, something small and hard fell to the bottom of the trunk with a clatter.

Aimee lifted out both objects. One was her dreadful needlework depiction of his horse Actaeon, and the other was the tin hedgehog. Aimee stared from one to the other in stupefaction. “Of all the things I have bestowed on you, these seem an odd selection,” she confessed in a wobbly voice. “Though it’s good you like hedgehog, for there are plenty more where that came from,” she joked. “Ninety-nine of them, in fact.”

“I don’t want you to give me any more tokens, Aimee. I want something else now.”

She refused to ask what. She was too scared to. “What am I supposed to do with the rest of them?” she asked instead flippantly. “You realize they are so inexpensive, that a mere penny buys a dozen of the things.” That’s right, Aimee, let him know they were simply cheap, empty nothings. Don’t let him think you have been foolishly pining over him like a lovestruck little idiot. Don’t let him think you were placing them on his pillow in the hope of winning his heart.

It was only then she realized he had made no response. She ventured a quick glance up at his face, but it was as stern and impassive as ever. For the veriest instant, she had been afraid she might have hurt his feelings. Foolish Aimee. As if she had the power to affect Lord Kentigern in any way. “It’s of no matter,” she said lightly. “I can just give them to someone else.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” The answer came quickly, and it was in a low, angry growl. He crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge. “Go and fetch me the rest. Now.” He gestured toward the wedding chest.

Aimee stared at him. “But you just said you do not want any more of them!”

“Every last one you have already bought belongs to me,” he answered in a steely voice. “Go and fetch them here.”

Aimee’s face grew heated. Silently, she cursed the impulse that had prompted her to buy a bulk lot of them last time she had visited the market. They were so much cheaper that way, and Aimee had always loved a bargain. She hesitated, trying to think of an argument.

“Now, Aimee,” his voice thundered.

Reluctantly, she dragged herself to her feet and made for the lacquered chest. Lifting the lid, she retrieved the first pouch of tokens, picking up the four or five that had spilled out and shoving them back into the bag. Her cheeks aflame, she turned and stalked over to the bed with them.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the bag toward him.

He reached behind him, patting the pillow bearer. “Do it right,” he growled, and Aimee stared at him indignantly.

“You want me to – ?”

“You know what I want,” he insisted.

With a smothered exclamation of annoyance, Aimee held the bag over the bed next to him and upended it. The silly, flashy little tin medallions spilled out onto the coverlet, as humiliating as an unsolicited confession of love.

Her husband’s gaze was riveted to the fall of shiny discs. The last one that fell was stamped crudely with the image of a heart. As if things could not get any more embarrassing.

“There,” she said, a betraying wobble in her voice.

Wordlessly, he reached down and spread the tokens with the flat of his hand, his gaze roaming over them as though they were runes to be read. Aimee looked at the silly jumble of animal shapes and love symbols and inwardly quaked. Slowly, he dragged his gaze up to look at her. “Is that all of them?” he countered.

She thought of the second unopened bag and tried to brazen it out. “Just how many do you think I purchased?” she answered with a shrug but could not hold his gaze. She saw the flare of realization in his eye and felt her heart thud.

“All of them belong to me, Aimee,” he repeated slowly. “Go and fetch them to me now.”

Aimee huffed out a frustrated breath. “I hope you realize it was the principle of thrift alone that prompted me to buy so many!” she flung over her shoulder as she returned to the wedding chest and seized the second pouch. She marched them back to him. Her cheeks were scalded with humiliation.

“Here!” she said, holding out the bag. He patted the bed, and Aimee ground her teeth as her fingers fumbled with the strings to open it.

“Is that the last of them?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes, of course! I only bought a hundred.” Her words were ridiculous. Only a hundred. She was such an idiot.

Biting her lip, Aimee opened the bag and tipped the contents practically into Lord Kentigern’s lap. It was only at that point that she realized how aroused he was. The drying cloth did very little to conceal the fact his manhood was curved straight up from his thighs, full and angry looking. It jerked as the metal disks fell about his lap, and he shivered slightly.

The bag slipped through Aimee’s nerveless fingers and fell at her feet. “That’s all of them,” she uttered.

“You’re sure of that?” His voice was so low and gravelly that she had to think a moment to translate his words.

She nodded. “Isn’t it enough?” she pushed, feeling mortified, feeling reckless. “I bet you wish they were gold coins,” she observed, lifting her chin. “You’d have a king’s ransom.”

He barely seemed to register her words, and when he reached for her, dragging her down to him, she went with a faint cry. She was half disappointed when he did not roll her under him or bear her down to the mattress at once.

Instead, he held her gripped firmly in his lap, one hand clasped vicelike to her hip, the other wrapped in her hair, dragging her face to his.

“Aimee,” he breathed deeply. “Ask me what I want.”

She swallowed. “I already know what you want, Konrad. You want me to stop being so damned managing. And … and you want me to stop trying to force your hand to make you love me.” Her voice broke over the last few words, and she tried to look away, but his hand tightened in her hair preventing it.

“No,” he corrected her. “That’s not it at all.” He breathed deeply a moment as though gathering his thoughts. “It is strange, wife, that you are so bad at guessing this time when you always anticipated my needs so well previously.”

That caught her attention. “What needs?”

“Number one, my need for a wife,” he answered promptly. “You saw that long before I did.”

Aimee regarded him doubtfully. “Konrad …”

“Number two, my need for companionship,” he continued calmly. “Yours most of all, and to a lesser degree, that of others.” He shrugged. “Family, friends ...”

Aimee caught her breath. “You do?”

“Apparently so.”

“Oh.”

“Number three, my need for your love,” he stated in so matter-of-fact a tone, that she would very likely have fallen off his lap if his grip on her had not been so tight. A shadow passed over his face. “Sadly, I did not realize how badly I needed that, until you withdrew it from me.” He glanced away a moment as Aimee stared.

“I was … like that battered old chest of my grandfather’s,” he said grimly. “The keyhole was so rusted up I didn’t think anyone would ever get in.” He was silent a moment, and she did not dare speak. “I thought I was a damned lost cause, Aimee, before you came along. I know I have no right to ask this, wife, but I want you to love me again.”

“What?” she gasped, almost unable to believe her ears.

“I know ’tis my own fault you do not,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “After what I did at the summer tournament, giving that crown to another. I know now that was unforgiveable, and the gods know I have plenty of faults beside that.”

He swallowed as his voice grew choked. “But I want you to try and overlook them all. Will you, Aimee?” There was so much longing in his tone that she could only stare and try to catch her breath. “Then I would scarcely care about anything else. Even if I never again lift another trophy.”

“But you did win something, Konrad,” she managed to tell him through sudden tears. “You won the trophy for the most liked knight. And you won something else,” she said in a choked voice. “You won my poor heart all over again.”

“Aimee!” His voice was hoarse. “Say that again, sweetheart.”

“You made me fall in love with you all over again.” Tears were coming thick and fast now, trickling down her cheeks. His grasp on her tightened, but she did not even flinch. “In vain, I tried to guard my heart against you, but it did not work,” she sobbed. “If you asked it of me, I would even wear a heraldic gown again. In your colors. To every tournament, if you desired it.”

“I do desire it,” he growled. “The gods help me, I should never dare make such a request after the way I behaved, but I do desire it.”

“Then I will wear it,” she laughed tearily. “Though I will need a new one, for that other is not fit to be seen … Mmmf!” Her words were cut off as he crushed his mouth to hers, and for a long moment, Aimee gave herself up to the sensation of being consumed by Lord Kentigern’s kiss.

Her heart seemed almost to stutter to a halt in her chest before pounding into life again. She clung onto his massive shoulders for dear life and scarcely noticed when he turned them both and bore her down to the mattress.

“Ah gods,” he groaned raggedly against her mouth moments later. “I don’t deserve you, Aimee Bartree.”

“Ouch!” she cried, and he froze. Reaching behind her, Aimee plucked a bent token from where it had become wedged between her back and the mattress. “These things have sharp edges,” she complained.

He gathered her in his arms and rolled onto his back, so she lay on top of him.

“Aren’t they digging into you now?” Aimee asked in concern. “Your back is bare.”

“I don’t mind it,” he replied. “My hide’s thicker than yours.” His hands roamed over the silky fabric covering her back and hips. “Let’s take this off,” he suggested.

They took it off.

“I meant to be calm and considerate,” Konrad panted sometime later. “But you reduced me to a frenzy again.” He sounded regretful.

“You were considerate,” Aimee murmured, running her hands over his hairy chest. “I will never, ever grow tired of this wonderous body,” she sighed, making him snort. She reached down to peel off a token which was stuck to his upper arm and showed it to him. “It has left the impression of a true lover’s knot on your arm,” she said tracing it with her finger. He turned his arm and glanced down at it but made no comment. “I would give you five of these tokens, just for the pleasure of beholding you naked,” she confessed with great daring.

A lazy grin spread across his face. “I would give you ten.”

Lightly, Aimee pressed a fingertip to the upturned corner of his mouth. She loved seeing his smile. It was everything she had hoped it would be, and somehow more. “Ten to look at me or for me to look at you?” she asked teasingly, hoping to see more.

“Fifty to look at you,” he said, his eye kindling.

“Fifty?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and tipped her head to one side. “How much is an ‘I love you’ worth in tokens?”

“One hundred,” he responded at once.

“One hundred tokens?” she repeated. “That’s a lot.”

“Yes.”

“How much is it worth … when I take care of you and rub lotion all over your body?” she ventured thoughtfully.

He rolled on top of her, sweeping tokens off the bed and onto the floor with a brush of his arm. “I really like that, Aimee. You know I do. But nothing’s worth as much as a hundred tokens, except an I love you.”

Aimee caught her breath. “Oh,” she said. They gazed at each other for a long moment.

“I’m waiting,” he said tersely.

Aimee laughed. “Personally, I think it’s worth more when it is given freely without prompting!”

“So do I,” he growled. “But beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I doubt you’ve ever begged for anything in your life,” she told him breathlessly.

“Oh, I’ll beg if that’s what it takes. Do you want that?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I love you.”

His gaze softened instantly, and they kissed again lingeringly. “I still don’t know how I finally made fortune smile down on me at last,” he sighed.

She shook her head. “You do know,” she insisted. “For I told you what it was that inspired love in my breast.”

“My losing,” he scoffed, but only lightly.

“Not just losing, but losing honorably,” she corrected him. “You were pleased for Sir Renlow, and that touched my heart.”

“Hmmm.”

“Will you let me put lotion all over you after our bath?”

“Gods, yes,” he groaned. “But you must let me return the favor, wife.”

“I will,” she smiled up at him. “But first, Konrad,” she said so shyly that he tensed at once. “Would you – would you very much mind saying it to me, please?” she asked, feeling like she might die of embarrassment.

He sucked in a shocked breath. “I told you that I love you!” he thundered. “Didn’t I?”

Aimee shook her head. “No, not in so many words.”

He looked horrified. “When I told you about that trunk?”

Aimee shook her head again. “You told me that I was precious to you, but you did not actually –”

“Gods, I am a bloody fool!” he said shakily. “I love you, Aimee. So, so much …” Then he lifted her hand and pressed it to the scarred side of his face and held it there, and she finally believed him.

*

After Konrad had gathered up every last one of the one hundred tokens and added them to his chest, they bathed in the tub which had been set up in Aimee’s old bedchamber. It was a squeeze, but they both about managed to fit in. Then they applied lotion to each other with many caresses and whispered words of love.

Konrad let her do his face without a murmur, though every time her face came close to his, he seemed to expect a kiss. As for Aimee, she was not at all sure that Konrad would not soon surpass her in the skill. He rubbed and circled all her sore spots until she could think of a saddle once more without wincing.

“I suppose I really ought to practice some more horseback riding,” Aimee admitted with a heavy sigh. “It does not really become a baroness to be so bad at it.”

Her husband grunted, swinging her up into his arms and making for the door of her old bedchamber. “My robe!” Aimee squeaked, for they were both still naked from their bath. She was not at all sure she would ever be as comfortable with her nudity as her husband was. He caught up a mantle from the chair and flung it over her front.

“There is no one around to see you,” he pointed out as he strode down the corridor to his own bedchamber. “We are the only ones with rooms on this floor.”

“One of the servants could come along!”

“They would have the sense to avert their eyes,” he pointed out, which was probably true.

Aimee raised her head which had been resting against his chest, suddenly remembering something. “Konrad?” she asked as he closed the door behind them. “Do you really think I’m a managing woman?”

“Gods, yes,” he said setting her down on the bed and climbing on after her.

“Oh.” She sounded as put out about it as she felt.

“I don’t mind it personally,” he shrugged. “Any wife of mine needs to be able to hold her own. We Bartrees are a contentious lot.”

She frowned, drawing down the sheets to clamber beneath them. “What about when you said I was an overbearing sister?” she asked. “Just lately, I have been thinking that I probably should not have forced Ursula’s hand. Do – do you think she might be unhappy in her marriage with Sir Renlow?”

He shook his head, joining her under the covers. “No, far from it. They both seem vastly contented, all told.”

“You – you did not tell me of your visit to them,” she reminded him as he drew her close.

He paused a moment. “I thought the subject could likely wait.”

“Until we were far from Caer Lyoness?” she asked with sudden suspicion. “In case I went rushing around there trying to take charge of their lives?”

He gave a muffled laugh against her hair. “If it is any consolation, you have always acted far better toward your sister than I ever did to mine. My decision was not impartial. I wanted you to worry your pretty head less about your sister and more about me.”

“You do realize,” she said hesitantly. “That it is probably Ursula and Renlow that are dining downstairs presently with Freda. And maybe my father.”

“I do realize it,” he responded, frankly. “Though I was not so sure you did.”

“Because I did not go barging in there, you mean?” she asked with a little asperity. “Trying to organize them all to my satisfaction?”

He squeezed her waist. “I know you have done wonders with Freda,” he said placatingly. “She is much happier here than in Vettel.” He slipped a finger under her chin and gently tipped her head up, touching his brow to hers. “Forgive me for this morning,” he said abruptly. “I was a fool.

“When I first woke beside you, I felt good, really good. For the first time since I cannot remember when. Then I started to panic as I’m just not used to feeling that way.” He paused a moment, as though searching for the right words. “I knew the earth was shifting beneath my feet, and I was left scrambling for well-trod ground.”

Aimee was listening carefully. “You were?” she asked quietly. She could tell he was trying to explain himself to her.

“I was,” he agreed firmly. “I realized that things were changing in my life, and nothing was going to be the same again.”

“And that panicked you. But now it does not?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said, propping his head up on his hand. “Now I am actually looking forward to it.”

“What exactly are you looking forward to?” she asked suspiciously.

“Everything,” he said promptly. “Even the bloody awful blue and yellow pavilion I have no doubt you are going to commission, and which will be a complete eyesore to all who behold it.” Aimee spluttered. “To you sweeping through Bartree Castle, setting the place to rights. To you being at my side,” he shrugged. “Always.”

Aimee opened her mouth to respond, but it seemed he had not finished. “You have turned everything on its head, wife,” he continued in an odd tone. “Everything I thought was important to me … I no longer seem to care about at all.”

She reached up to stroke the hair from his brow. “Such as … ?” she asked.

“Bartree Castle,” he answered promptly. “The north. I don’t even …” he broke off, looking baffled. “I don’t feel the slightest desire to travel north to see how the restorations are going.” The admission left him looking dazed.

She shrugged. “You may feel differently when it nears completion,” she suggested. “Or when you have an heir.”

His gaze snapped to hers as though that aspect had not occurred to him. “Yes,” he growled after a moment. “That may be true.” He shrugged. “But even so, I can see us living most of the year in Caer Lyoness.” He directed a searching glance at her. “What say you to that, wife?”

“I have lived in Caer Lyoness all my life, my lord,” she told him with a smile. “That will be no hardship to me. The rest of my family is here.”

“Yes, but when you decided to marry me,” he persisted, waving that aside, “you wanted to live in a castle, did you not?”

Aimee gazed at him in some confusion. “Not particularly. Why is that important?”

“I want to give you your every heart’s desire,” he persisted stubbornly.

Aimee laughed. “I just wanted to be with you,” she confessed. “I knew you had a castle, so I thought I would live in it one day. But that was neither here nor there with me, and it was far from the reason I fell in love with you.”

His clasp of her tightened again, and he was silent, crossing one ankle over the other. “’Tis the strangest thing to me,” he pondered, glancing around the bedchamber distractedly. “But I think I like it here best of all.” There was just a hint of accusation in the baffled look he directed at her.

“This house?” Aimee asked. “Or this city?”

“Both are one and the same to me now. If anyone would have ever told me that the southern capital could be my most beloved place, I would ne’er have believed them. But these past few days, nay, this past month has been the happiest I think have ever been in my life. Because of you.” Aimee gazed back at him, but before she could speak, another thought seemed to strike him.

“And Beres Caple is now my favorite tournament,” he added looking thunderstruck. “It’s a backwater event for yokels, and I didn’t even win it!”

“You did win –” she started to protest, but he interrupted her.

“Because of you. Because we were there together,” he reiterated. “It was the best time I ever had. In my whole life. Even though I lost both events,” he admitted with a slight shake of his head. “Looking back on it now, I feel benevolent toward everyone there. Even,” he added in bewilderment, “de Crecy.”

Aimee felt the smile spreading over her face before he had even finished speaking. He sounded so astonished by his own words. “Well,” she started, “I think it is only right that Beres Caple is your favorite tournament, considering you are their most popular knight there.” But it seemed Konrad had tired of the conversation, for his big hands were grabbing her about the waist and hauling her up the bed so he could rain kisses over her face and neck.

Aimee subsided against the pillows with a sigh. They could talk about it later.