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out over the hall. “Why is it I never get the last word when we speak, Sir Knight? Surely giving it to me would be the only chivalrous thing to do?”

Gareth said nothing for a moment, then exhaled loudly. “Sorry, my lady, I tried, but even for you I can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“That is no surprise,” Robert said tersely, but Gareth only grinned at him.

“Lady Imogen, as much as I love being warmed by the glow of your presence, it would seem I’m making your husband restless, so, against my better nature, I’ll get myself to the point.” He went down on one knee with a flourish, and whipped a large bouquet from behind his back. “Whispers of you gracing us with your presence had reached me, and I thought that, as you were giving us such a gift, then perhaps I should gift you with this small”—Robert snorted loudly at the inaccuracy of that appellation—“bouquet in return.”

Gareth placed the bouquet gently on her lap and, after reaching up for her hand, bowed over it.

Robert’s eyebrow shot up when he got a closer look at the bouquet. “Gareth, why have you given my lady wife a bunch of leaves?”

“Because, Robert, I’m good, but not that good. Even I can’t produce flowers out of the snow.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Besides, I thought Imogen would get more pleasure out of richly scented herbs than gaudily colored flowers.”

Imogen reached out a shaking hand and ran a fingertip over the bouquet. She gently crushed a leaf between her fingers and released the earth-rich smell of apple-scented chamomile into the air. She inhaled deeply, filling her senses with it for a moment, then she carefully placed the bouquet onto the table. The dampness on her cheeks glistened openly in the candlelight.

“Help me up,” she whispered hoarsely to Robert, who instantly obeyed, as stunned as the rest by her raw emotion.

“Thank you, Sir Gareth. You were indeed right, they are a beautiful gift and I scarce know how to thank you properly.” She said it all with perfectly acceptable formality, but then, as if unable to help herself, she bent down and placed a single kiss on his cheek.

Robert didn’t have time for jealousy, not now. One look around the hall was enough for him to realize that he had other, far more pressing things to worry about. Looks of admiration had been replaced with ones of open worship. The sight of a lady being so overwhelmed by such a simple gift had worked its way under years of brutality to the soft place underneath that many of the knights had scarce been aware they had. Robert could barely resist the urge to groan in frustration. Thirty hardened warriors he knew how to deal with. Thirty lovesick grown men, however, might prove to be a problem.

He was in trouble.

Gareth’s smile caught his eye. As Robert glared at him ferociously, Gareth just winked at him and as he stood up whispered into Robert’s ear. “With thirty men willing to kill their own mothers to keep her safe, at least you know she will never come to any harm.”

Robert cast a quick glance around the hall, and grimaced. “I might come to harm, though. I’ll get crushed by their mailed feet as they rush to be by her side.”

Gareth shrugged his shoulders. “It will keep you on your toes.”

Robert sighed and reached for the mead.

The only person who seemed oblivious to the impending chaos was Imogen herself. Entirely unaware of the furor she had inadvertently caused, she set about calmly eating her dinner, pausing from time to time to caress her bouquet of herbs.

Robert smiled despite himself. Things might not be turning out quite as he had planned, but married life was beginning to suit him. He filled Imogen’s cup and placed it carefully at her hand.

It was suiting him very well indeed.

Chapter Nine

The sound of Imogen’s laughter on the breeze drew Robert to the window. The courtyard below was bathed in sunlight, the snow of the long winter almost a memory, but it wasn’t the joy of the new season that filled Robert with warmth. No, it was the sound of Imogen’s laughter coming from the practice yard that brought a gentle smile to his face.

He’d organized the space as soon as his men had started arriving on his doorstep, and now most hours of the day the courtyard was filled with the clash of steel on steel. Today, however, instead of the sound of men practicing war, all that could be heard was the murmur of voices and laughter. Yet again, it would seem, Imogen was distracting the men from their serious business. Not that they weren’t easily distracted, Robert thought wryly.

She had only to appear outdoors and his men willingly laid down their arms just so that they might have a chance to vie for her attention, like now. Robert tried to find her in the scene below his window but he could catch only occasional glimpses of her amongst the half-naked, bronzed, sweating bodies that clustered around her. Despite that, however, her presence seemed to fill the whole courtyard.

Robert shook his head at the folly of his men, but he was smiling all the same. How could he blame his men for being captured in her flame when he himself was one of her most willing victims? Her growing confidence and delight at the new world she was discovering was a rare jewel in a warrior’s hard life, and Robert was loath to miss a moment of it.

She was trying to catch up on life after years of waking sleep and she was throwing herself into the small world of the Keep with a will. Sometimes it was exhausting just to watch her human whirlwind. Everything was of interest to her, and she was tireless in the pursuit of anything that caught that interest.

Robert smiled fondly as he caught the occasional glimpse of her chatting animatedly to his men.

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