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He didn’t bother looking up, his mind and soul still too consumed with Imogen to worry all that much about this new intrusion. Robert barely acknowledged the guards as they told him that they were taking him to the king’s private chamber. They removed the chains from his legs and wrists, one of them tersely ordering him to stand up.

He stood stiffly, finding it difficult to get his back straight. The guard threw some clothes in his direction, which he caught clumsily. A small smile filtered across his face as he slowly dressed, the absurdity of the situation amusing him despite his worry. “Five guards?’ he enquired with a raised brow.

“Surely William can’t be that worried. What sort of trouble does he really think I am going to cause while half-starved and unarmed?” He slipped on his boots, then tried to roll the strain out of his shoulders. “I suppose I should be flattered he thinks that even with all of that, I’m thought to have enough strength to be a serious threat.”

Not that he had any trouble finding all kinds of reserves of strength last night with Imogen in his arms, he thought dryly, and tried not to laugh out loud at the memory. He suspected that these men mightn’t get the joke and in Robert’s experience there was nothing as dangerous as an armed man who didn’t get the joke.

He contented himself with being safely ignored as the men manacled him and marched him out of the dungeons, but it was only when they reached the king’s apartments that Robert found his mind focusing on the situation at hand, instead of the brilliant memories of the night just past.

It was an unusual situation, to say the least. Condemned men didn’t normally have meetings with the king. William tended to keep his slaughter well away from the royal person. Despite the strangeness, however, Robert didn’t doubt for a moment that this odd social visit was merely a postponement, not a reprieve.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Death had never held much fear for him. He was a knight for hire. He was a giver of death and destruction and knew that he would one day be a receiver of it. Life was never meant to be forever, and the life of a knight was often brutally short. He had long since made his peace with that but, now, for the first time in his life, he felt his skin break out in a cold sweat at the thought of his own mortality.

And his fear had a name: Imogen.

She had brought a value to his life that he had never had before. He hated knowing that he would be leaving her behind unprotected in this dangerous world, and the longing to have more time to hold her in his arms was almost unbearable. Somehow, though, he suspected that there wouldn’t be time enough in eternity for him to have his fill of her.

He had to free himself of these morbid thoughts. He would achieve nothing by dwelling on this new fear, especially not when it had the power to paralyze him. Sunken in self-pity he would be of no help at all to Imogen. He drew a deep breath as he walked into the king’s chambers surrounded by the Royal Guard.

He didn’t bow to the man standing near the window even as the guards around him did so with energy. Instead, he stood passively, his manacles rattling as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

William didn’t seem to notice this impertinence. He barely seemed to notice that his privacy had been invaded at all. Instead he stared morosely out the window and, even from the door, Robert could see that his eyes were badly bloodshot, and that his hand trembled slightly.

“Remove his manacles, then leave us,” William said, not even bothering to look round as he spoke, his voice alcohol-roughened. The guards quickly removed the iron rings and bowed, eager to leave the room.

I’d like to have half their luck, Robert thought wryly as he began rubbing blood down into his hands, gritting his teeth at the pain caused by the sudden return of his circulation.

After a long moment, William turned from the window and moved to sit down in a nearby chair. Robert hesitated a second, then decided that in this strange scene, bravado was everything. He sat down in a chair across from William’s.

Robert only barely suppressed the groan of pleasure that rose in his throat as he stretched himself out full length in the chair. Tired muscles started unwinding and returning to their natural position. As the pain slowly eased he found his curiosity increasing as to what was actually going on. He had sat only as an act of defiant bluster and had never expected William to let the insult remain, but he did. None of it tallied with what Robert knew to be fact. Hell, even before this mess, William had wanted to convert Robert to a dismembered form as quickly as possible. Now that William had the perfect excuse, he seemed to be too distracted to focus his anger.

Robert didn’t like this strange behavior and found himself automatically bracing himself.

“Your wife is certainly a most unusual baggage,” William said suddenly.

“You could say that,” Robert said, carefully keeping his voice neutral. But if the king dared to threaten Imogen in any way, Robert was more than ready to kill him with his bare hands.

“I believe I did say that,” William said testily. “Most unusual. I don’t think anyone has ever called me stupid to my face before, not and lived to tell about it.”

Robert winced and tried desperately to think of some mitigating circumstance to explain away Imogen’s undiplomatic statement, promising himself at the same time that if he ever got the chance he would have a very long discussion with the woman about how best to stay alive when playing games with kings. “She has been under a lot strain lately and…”

William nodded his head

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