The Prize

Chapter Seventeen

His impossible, stubborn-to-her-soul wife was back in full evidence the following day. It wasn't even noon before they had their first argument. Thomas had drawn the design for their new home, using all of his baron's specifications of course, and when Royce graciously allowed Nicholaa to look over the plan, she announced that it simply wouldn't do.

She waved her hand toward the area reserved for the kitchens and told him they'd need twice the amount of space. She frowned over the gigantic area he'd reserved for the soldiers' quarters he planned to put on the lower level. He'd accidentally left out a buttery, too. He didn't think they really needed it anyway. Nicholaa thought otherwise.

He finally had to sit her down and discuss each of her opinions. She let him talk without once interrupting, but it didn't take him long to realize she was daydreaming again. God, she was maddening. Damned invigorating, too. She finally agreed he was right on every single point. He went back to his duties feeling content. Nicholaa waited until her husband had whistled his way across the courtyard, then called Thomas back inside to give him the new, corrected specifications. She added a large buttery to the plan, extended the kitchens and the size of the hearth, and increased the master bedchamber to twice the original size.

Royce was terribly busy the rest of the week. He told Nicholaa he'd decided not to choose the soldiers who would participate in the king's games. He would set up feats of strength instead, and the top ten soldiers from each division would earn the honor on their own.

Nicholaa thought that was more than fair. She was pleased, too, that her husband had begun to include her when he discussed his plans with Lawrence. Yet as the second week progressed, Royce became more and more withdrawn. Whenever the topic of the competition came up, he would either change the subject or simply stop talking.

Something was worrying her husband, but he wasn't ready to tell her what it was. Nicholaa was learning to be patient. In time she was certain he'd sort it all out in his mind and then confide in her.

Four weeks remained before they would leave for the games. Royce finally confided in Nicholaa. It was a warm Sunday evening. Royce asked Nicholaa to sit down. He didn't look enthusiastic, as he usually did when he was about to launch into a lecture. No, he looked terribly serious, and if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he looked worried, too.

He didn't pace, either. He stood in front of the hearth with his hands clasped behind his back.

Royce didn't want to look at Nicholaa when he gave her his news. The fear he was sure to see in her expression would tear at his heart.

"Nicholaa," he began in a brisk, no-nonsense voice. "As you know, I allowed my men to compete against one another, and those most skilled would earn the honor of representing me… that is to say," he corrected, "the honor of representing us."

Nicholaa was beginning to get worried. She'd never seen her husband act this hesitant before. She folded her hands in her lap, straightened her shoulders, and forced herself to wait until he told her the rest.

Long minutes passed before Royce spoke again. "It's finished now," he announced. "The men all know who the ten from each division are. It can't be undone."

"No, of course not," she agreed.

He nodded. "Each unit will have nine soldiers and one commander. Lawrence easily won the honor of becoming commander over the experienced soldiers."

He went into great detail outlining Lawrence's strengths. Then he finally turned the topic to the Doves. "Nine soldiers were above all the others in every competition. There was one, however, whose expertise put him well above the others. He was quite exceptional."

Nicholaa had already guessed that Ingelram had earned the honor of becoming commander. Bryan might also be one of the ten. She thought she understood then. Royce was going to leave Justin behind, and he was concerned about her brother's feelings. Justin would have to accept this decision, of course. It would probably sting his pride to watch his friends leave for the games. Still, Nicholaa thought he had quite a lot to be thankful for, and if she had to, she'd sit him down and tell him so.

Royce turned away from the hearth and walked over to Nicholaa. He pulled her to her feet, took her hands, and said, "Justin has earned the right to command the unit." He braced himself for her tears.

She looked incredulous. She shook her head. It was obvious she didn't believe him. "You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious," he answered. "He earned the right, wife."

She pulled her hands away from his and collapsed into the chair. She was suddenly so frightened for her brother that her stomach started aching. She was furious with Royce, too. How could he have let this happen?

"I don't understand," she whispered. "Justin isn't ready."

"Yes, he is ready," he countered. "He was quite exceptional in the competition," he told her again. There was a noticeable tinge of pride in his voice. "You should be very proud of him, Nicholaa. I am."

"I don't want him to participate," she cried out. "It's too soon. He needs further instruction."

"Nicholaa, look at me," he commanded.

When she looked up, he saw the tears in her eyes. He let out a long sigh. "Do you have faith in me?" he asked.

She was surprised by that question, and yet after a minute or two of reasoning, she understood why he'd asked it. That was what it all came down to, wasn't it? Either she believed in her husband or she didn't.

Royce stood by his wife's side and patiently waited for her to sort it all out in her mind. He was a little irritated when she didn't immediately answer him. He understood her hesitation, however. Her fear was clouding her judgment. Still, he knew what her answer would be.

She finally nodded. "Yes, I do have faith in you."

She stared at the tabletop when she admitted that truth. Then she turned her gaze up to his so that he could see her frown. "And now you're going to tell me I must also have complete faith in all your decisions, aren't you?"

He gave her a smile. She couldn't sit still for another minute. She stood up just as Royce sat down. "Do you believe that because I have faith in you I must also have faith in Justin?"

"No," he answered. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. "You should, however, have complete faith in my judgment."

God, how she hated it when he was so logical. They were talking about her brother, not an outsider, and for that simple reason she was letting her emotions control her thoughts.

"Why can't it be undone?" she blurted out.

"That question doesn't deserve an answer, wife."

Her shoulders slumped. "I imagine Justin's pleased with this honor, isn't he?"

Royce nodded. He flashed a quick grin, then forced a serious expression when Nicholaa's frown intensified. "Justin's strutting around like a rooster now. Ingelram and Bryan also won the right to participate. They're strutting, too."

She wasn't amused by the picture he'd painted. "They're boys," she cried out. "Royce, they could get killed."

He shook his head. He would have pulled her onto his lap and comforted her if she hadn't backed away from him. He decided she wasn't quite ready to be soothed yet. She needed time to feel angry first.

"They're men, Nicholaa. They're young, yes, but still men, not boys."

Nicholaa realized she was wringing her hands and immediately clasped them behind her back.

"Perhaps you'll stop worrying after I've told you just how exceptional your brother was when he competed for his place," Royce suggested.

She shrugged. He hid his smile. He knew she wanted to scream at him. She didn't, though. She was trying to accept his decision, and that pleased him very much. She'd never seen Justin train with the others and couldn't possibly know he'd developed into quite a warrior.

Royce knew, though. He'd been with Justin day in and day out, demanding perfection. Justin had measured up, the honor now belonged to him, and by God, despite Nicholaa's resistance, Royce wouldn't take that privilege away.

He patiently explained each test the soldiers were put through and told how Justin had met every challenge. In truth, he was fairly bursting with pride by the time he'd finished telling Nicholaa about the feats. And when he was done, he again told her it couldn't be undone.

"This announcement caught me by surprise," she announced. "I do have faith in you, and for that reason I assume you've considered every possibility. Do you believe the men who go up against my brother will fight fairly?"

"No," he answered. "They'll do whatever it takes to win, Nicholaa."

"Even if that means trying to break Justin's one hand to make him completely vulnerable? Even if they use their swords to try to cut his hand off?"

She was shaking with fear by the time she'd spoken those dark possibilities aloud. Royce leaned back in the chair and stared at her. "Even then," he agreed.

Odd, but his casual agreement eased her fear just a little. He'd obviously thought about those possibilities, too.

She started pacing. "I imagine you've told Justin what to expect. You've surely warned him about Baron Guy's soldiers." Nicholaa didn't wait for his agreement but continued. "Although you won't admit it, you must be a bit worried. I'm worried, too, but I guess it doesn't matter how we feel. We'll have to keep our concern hidden from Justin." She threaded her fingers through her hair, then blurted out, "Royce, if you doubt he's completely ready, then help him."

He was having difficulty following her. In the space of a few minutes she'd done a complete turnaround. She was now trying to persuade him not to worry.

She resumed her pacing. "You've given Justin back his pride," she told him. "You can't take that away now."

Royce continued to listen to her reasons for accepting this decision and it suddenly dawned on him that Nicholaa wasn't just repeating what he'd already told her.

She was actually lecturing him.

He waited until her pacing brought her close enough, then reached out and grabbed her. He settled her on his lap and kissed her.

"You please me, wife," he announced gruffly.

"Will I please you when I tell you I won't stop being afraid?"

"Yes," he answered. "Because I know you won't intervene, and I know you'll hide your fear from your brother."

She clasped his face. "Make certain he's ready," she whispered. "Teach him all the deceitful tricks they'll use. If anyone knows how to fight unfairly, it's you, husband."

He raised an eyebrow. "Thank you… I think. That was a compliment, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yes," she replied. "You didn't fight fairly when you tricked me into leaving the abbey. Had I known then what a soft heart you had, I would have realized Ulric was safer with you than with anyone else in England. Yes, you used cunning then. It certainly wasn't fair of you to trick me that way."

He kissed her again, a long, wet, hot kiss that left them both shaking. Lawrence's discreet cough made Royce reluctantly pull away.

Nicholaa looked flustered. She jumped off her husband's lap, smoothed her hair and her skirts, and smiled at the vassal. "I understand you're going to lead the experienced soldiers in William's games. Congratulations, Lawrence."

"Thank you, my lady."

"We must have a special dinner tonight," she said. She turned to Royce. "Could Justin join us?"

"If he does, the others must also be invited."

She smiled. "Cook's going to pitch a tantrum when I tell her we're having twenty guests."

Her husband shook his head. "Twenty-four," he corrected. "Two extra men from each division will go along as reserves."

"Reserves?"

"It's just a precaution, Nicholaa," he explained, "in case one or two are injured."

"Or become too ill to compete?"

He knew from the eagerness in her voice what she was thinking… and probably hoping. "Justin isn't going to get injured or become ill. Do not waste your time praying he will, wife."

She frowned at him. "I would never pray for such a thing," she muttered. She turned to the vassal, forced a smile, and said, "Lawrence, my husband must learn to have a little more faith in me. Still, he has other redeeming qualities, and so I forgive him his flaws."

The vassal didn't know how to respond to that remark. He did notice his baron was looking surprised. Then Nicholaa drew his attention again when she asked if he would order a few of the soldiers to bring the other table up from the floor below.

As soon as he'd given her his agreement, she hurried toward the back of the castle. Nicholaa knew that the sooner she gave Cook the bad news, the sooner she could get over her tantrum and down to the business of preparing a fine meal.

It turned out to be a festive occasion. Royce was right when he said Justin strutted. So did the other young soldiers. The older knights took it all in stride. They were dignified. But they smiled all through dinner, too.

Justin was asked to stay after the dinner was finished. He thought his baron wanted him to assist him with the statue again.

Royce wasn't in the mood to work on the project tonight, however. "Beginning tomorrow I will set aside two hours each day to instruct you."

"With the others on my team?" Justin asked.

It was Lawrence who answered him. "Of course, Justin," he said. "Your baron is simply respecting the chain of command when he tells you his plans, because you earned the right to lead your team. Tomorrow you will relay this message to your men."

Justin smiled. "I understand." He turned his gaze to his sister. "Nicholaa, what are you looking at?" he asked. He'd noticed she was frowning intently and staring at his arm.

"Your scars," she answered immediately. "They aren't still tender, are they?"

Since she'd asked the question so casually, Justin was hard pressed to take exception. "No, they aren't tender."

Nicholaa nodded. "Lawrence told me that you put on a leather covering with loops to slip over your shoulder, and Royce made you take it off. His reason was that the opponent could use the loops to pin you down."

"Yes, that's true," Justin acknowledged.

"Who made that covering for you?" Nicholaa asked.

"Bryan."

"Is he very clever?"

Royce interrupted then. "You aren't thinking to ask Bryan to make the black queen, are you?"

"No, of course not," she rushed out before her husband's feelings could become injured. "You must finish the black queen."

"Then what-"

"I was just considering ways to be devious," she said. "I also have a cunning mind."

Royce laughed. "You don't have to convince me, Sister Danielle," he drawled out.

Lawrence laughed, for he'd heard the tale how Nicholaa posed as a nun. He recounted the story for Justin's benefit.

Nicholaa drummed her fingertips on the tabletop until the laughter had subsided, then turned to Royce again. "Your worry was that the opponent would grab hold of the leather, wasn't it?"

He nodded. She smiled. "I think you should let them."

Lawrence and Justin didn't know what she was getting at. Royce caught on right away. He laughed. "Yes," he said then. "We should let them." He turned to look at Justin. "She's talking about a surprise," he explained. "Something sharp sewn into the leather that would even the odds."

Nicholaa was already blushing. "I wouldn't normally consider such trickery, but if someone is going to grab your arm to hold you down, I do believe a few blades in the leather would be a just reward."

"Go and put the possibility to Bryan," Royce told Nicholaa's brother.

Justin immediately stood up, winked at his sister, and then hurried out of the hall.

"Royce, you won't be taking part in the games, will you?" Nicholaa asked.

He shook his head. "The men act in my stead," he explained. "When they win, I win."

She was warmed by his arrogance. He hadn't said if he won but when he won, and she knew he believed his soldiers would be victorious no matter what challenges they faced.

Nicholaa turned her attention to Lawrence. The look of worry on her face surprised the vassal. She took his hand. That surprised him even more.

"Lawrence," she said, "Morgan and Henry are going to try to hurt Royce at the games. You'll have to keep your guard up at all times. If they can't get to him, they'll hurt you."

The warning wasn't necessary. Lawrence was well aware of Morgan's and Henry's black hearts. "You mustn't worry, my lady."

"Oh, but I do worry." She squeezed his hand affectionately and then let go when she caught her husband's frown.

"How would you know what they plan to do?" Royce asked.

"Henry told me," she answered. "He wants to get even with you. He's still angry because I didn't choose to wed his baron. I can't imagine why he thought I'd prefer Guy to you."

She sounded so bewildered that Lawrence couldn't help smiling. Her love for Royce was evident.

"Henry's jealous," she said. "He had the gall to bring up that sorry incident with the woman who told me to kill Royce. It was rude of him to mention it."

She let out a sigh, then dismissed Henry from her thoughts. She stood up, intent on helping Clarise clear the table. She wanted to praise Cook one last time too, for doing such a fine job of feeding all the men such a wonderful meal.

Royce grabbed her hand and forced her to sit down again.

He hadn't shown any reaction to her remarks about Guy's vassals. He seemed interested now, however. "Tell me when Henry said these things to you," he ordered.

"It was right after you tossed Morgan through the wall."

"He specifically mentioned the woman who threatened you when we were in London?"

"Yes," she answered. "He was trying to frighten me, I suppose," she said. "It didn't work, though. Are you finished with your questions, husband? I really must thank Cook again before I forget." As soon as he gave her permission, Nicholaa hurried out of the room.

Royce waited until he and Lawrence were alone. "Damn interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"Henry and Morgan could have heard about the incident," Lawrence interjected.

"The king wanted it kept quiet, remember? He didn't want the celebration tainted. Only a handful knew what happened, and Baron Guy wasn't one of them."

"But after we left London and the celebration was over, someone could have mentioned it," Lawrence said.

Royce shook his head. "The king was furious to learn that someone had actually breached his home. He took it as a personal insult, and he didn't want the news to spread. No, word didn't get out, Lawrence. There's something else, too," he added with a scowl. "When Nicholaa's older brother came here, I questioned him about the activities of the resisters in London. Thurston didn't know what I was talking about. I believed then and I believe now that it was an honest reaction on his part. He was too surprised. Damn it, my opinion is that Morgan and Henry sent that messenger to Nicholaa."

Lawrence nodded. "That is my opinion, too," he admitted. "Did they act on their own or did Guy have a hand in this?"

"It doesn't matter." Royce's voice turned as hard and as cold as ice. "He's responsible for his vassals' actions."

"Of course," Lawrence agreed. "Still, I'd like to know if he had a part in this treachery. I'm curious to know how far his malice extends."

"We won't have long to wait. In just a few weeks we'll have our answer."

"And then we retaliate." Lawrence hadn't asked a question but simply stated a fact. He'd served his baron long enough to understand how his mind worked.

"You'll have to take care of Morgan and Henry," Royce said.

"With pleasure, Baron."

"Damn, I wish I could fight the two of them."

Lawrence understood his baron's frustration. The king would never allow a baron to fight another baron's vassals in games of strength. It would be beneath his station. It was therefore up to Lawrence to right the treachery. And, Lord, how he was looking forward to the opportunity.

"There's still Baron Guy," Lawrence said, reminding Royce he wouldn't be completely left out.

"Yes," Royce replied. "That bastard's all mine."

The following weeks of preparation proved to be a torment for Nicholaa, and an enlightenment, too.

The torment came first. Nicholaa had to pretend to be happy whenever she ran into Justin or one of his friends. She also had to pretend she wasn't worried and didn't doubt her husband's judgment when she was with him.

There was a price to be paid for her feigned happiness. By keeping all her fears hidden, she made herself sick. Each morning when she opened her eyes, she was so sick to her stomach she could barely get out of bed.

The nausea would dissipate after an hour or two. She thought it was because once she was wide awake, she was able to push her fears away. She couldn't soothe her nerves when she was sleeping, however. She was vulnerable then.

And then enlightenment came. It took her a good week to catch on. She noticed how tender her breasts were. She noticed other changes, too. She suddenly couldn't stand the smell of quail. She couldn't stand to watch anyone eat the disgustingly greasy meat, either. She was sleeping longer, and more often than not she was sneaking in an afternoon nap when everyone else was too busy to notice.

She was going to have Royce's baby. Nicholaa was so filled with joy over the wonderful miracle that she got teary-eyed every time she thought about it.

When she wasn't occupied worrying about Justin, she was thinking about the perfect way to tell her husband he was going to be a father. She knew he was going to be surprised. He'd been so busy with his duties, she didn't think he'd noticed any changes in her behavior.

Royce worked with the younger soldiers from dawn until dinner. The two hours a day he'd promised to give the Doves had turned into nine.

Royce was clearly worn out by the time dinner was finished, yet he still took time to sit her down and lecture her. She thought it was probably the only enjoyment he gained during the day.

The topic of his lectures was always the same. He talked about her safety at the games. Night after night he made her promise him she'd take every care, that she wouldn't go anywhere without a proper escort, that she wouldn't take any unnecessary risks, such as even acknowledging Morgan or Henry.

Nicholaa couldn't remember the rest of his list of orders because she was usually daydreaming by then.

Royce made it quite clear he would rather leave her behind, but her feelings weren't hurt. She was certain he still hadn't recovered from the incident when the woman got into their chamber in London.

He didn't want her in Baron Guy's company, either. Royce would surely have left her home if the king and his wife hadn't requested that she attend.

She decided not to tell him about the baby just yet. It would give him a good excuse to leave her behind and simply tell his overlord that her delicate condition didn't allow her to travel.

Nicholaa would take every precaution to ensure the baby's safety, of course. She wasn't going to let her husband set a breakneck pace. She wasn't going to become overly tired, either.

On a bright sunny Monday morning they left for the fields near London where the games were going to take place. Nicholaa got up an hour earlier than necessary so she could recover from her morning sickness before Royce awakened.

Justin rode with the other young soldiers toward the rear of the procession. Every now and then she heard her brother's laughter. A terrible thought-that it was the laughter of an innocent riding toward destruction-would immediately pop into her mind. She'd shake her head, tell herself she trusted Royce's judgment, and then force herself to think of happier thoughts. Then Justin would laugh again, and the cycle would be repeated.

It was exhausting, this mental game she played. After they stopped to eat their nooning meal, she was so sleepy she could barely keep her eyes open. She asked Royce if she could ride with him. He thought she was finally going to confide her worries to him, but after she'd settled herself on his lap and wrapped her arms around his waist, she went to sleep. It wasn't a short rest, either; she slept the entire afternoon away. Royce guessed the fear she'd been so desperately trying to hide from him had worn her out.

He didn't worry that she was having difficulty maintaining her faith in him. Nicholaa was trying, and that was all that mattered.

They made camp several hours later in a narrow meadow surrounded by forest. A clear knee-deep stream ran along one side of the clearing.

Royce had to wake Nicholaa up before he could dismount. A wave of nausea washed over her as soon as she was helped to the ground. She was able to catch the gag in the back of her throat. Then she begged for a few minutes of privacy. Royce noticed how pale she looked. She took off running toward the cluster of trees. Royce frowned with concern as he watched her leave.

He turned his attention to the care of his mount. He removed the saddle, tossed it to his squire, and then ordered that his horse be allowed to cool down before being given water and oats.

Ten minutes passed, and still his wife hadn't returned. Royce went after her. He heard the sound of retching when he reached the trees. Justin came up to speak to him and also heard the noise.

"Your sister's ill," Royce said.

"Shouldn't we go to her?" Justin asked, his concern obvious.

Royce shook his head. "Give her a few more minutes of privacy. If she doesn't come back then, I'll go to her."

The two men stood side by side, waiting. Several more minutes passed in silence.

"Was it something she ate, do you suppose?" Justin asked. The sound of retching had stopped, but Nicholaa still hadn't walked back to the clearing.

"No," Royce answered. "She's made herself ill worrying, Justin."

"What is she worrying about?"

"You."

Justin didn't know what to say to that.

Nicholaa came toward them then. She frowned when she saw the two of them standing there, then went to kneel by the stream. She rinsed her mouth with the cool water, then patted water on her face.

"Nicholaa?" Justin called out. "Have you really made yourself sick worrying about me?"

She turned around to look up at her brother. "No," she answered. "I'm sick for quite another reason."

Justin looked relieved. He pulled her to her feet.

"I am worried about you, though," she told him. "Justin, please understand. I'm your older sister, and I'll always try to protect you." She turned to Royce. "If you were going to compete in these games, I'd be worried about you, too. If that means I lack faith in either of you, my only defense is that I love you both."

"Then it was something you ate that made you sick?" Royce asked.

Nicholaa gave him a roundabout answer. "I'm feeling fine now."

Royce didn't look convinced. He seemed preoccupied during dinner, and when they'd finished, he went to the stream. She followed him.

He was bent on worrying about her now, and Nicholaa didn't think a lecture would ease his mind. A spontaneous action might, though.

Her husband was kneeling beside the stream. He'd taken his tunic off and was splashing water over his neck and chest. Nicholaa walked up behind him and used the flat of her foot against his solid backside to give him a quick shove.

He didn't budge. He did turn around, though, and give her a most incredulous look.

She laughed and then tried to push him into the water again.

He thought she'd lost her mind. "I'm being spontaneous," she announced as she lunged for him a second time. "But you aren't cooperating."

He still didn't fall into the water. Nicholaa backed up, thinking to try again, but Royce suddenly stood up. He deliberately glanced over his shoulder at the water, then looked at her and grinned.

She knew what he was going to do, of course, and immediately lifted her skirts to run in the opposite direction.

He caught her from behind. She let out a shrill scream. Royce picked her up, turned, and held her over the water.

Soldiers came running. She and Royce were suddenly surrounded by armed men ready to defend them.

She was both horrified and embarrassed.

Royce laughed at the blush that covered her face. He dismissed his soldiers, and when they were once again alone, he bent down and kissed her forehead. "I love you, Nicholaa."

"I love you, too."

They shared a long kiss. Nicholaa quite forgot where they were. His touch was magical, and when he was holding her in his arms, all she could think about was him.

She was standing with his arms around her waist when he finally ended the kiss. She stared up into his eyes for a long while until she regained her wits. She noticed the sparkle in his beautiful eyes, that adorable rascal's smile. She noticed something else, too. She was standing in the water. He wasn't.

Her intent was to make him forget to worry about her for just a little while, and when he started laughing, she knew she'd succeeded.

He sat down on the grassy bank, pulled her out of the water and into his lap, laughing over his cunning still, and helped her take off her soggy shoes.

"Royce, if you forgot something, would there still be time to go back home to fetch it?"

"No," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"If you wanted to take something back you couldn't do that, either, could you?"

"No."

She gave him a radiant smile. "I have something to tell you," she whispered.

She didn't go on. She folded her hands in her lap and turned her gaze to his chest. Her sudden shyness made him smile. "What is it, Nicholaa?"

"We're going to have a baby."

He was too stunned to react at first. Then he was speechless.

She peeked up to see how he was taking her announcement. She laughed when she saw the look of astonishment on his face. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, and she wondered how it was possible to laugh and cry at the same time even as she continued to do just that.

Royce's hand shook when he gently touched her face. "You're certain about this?" he asked her in a gruff whisper.

It was of course a very logical question. It wasn't logical that after she told him she was certain, he repeated the same question two more times. He couldn't seem to accept it.

"You're pleased, husband?"

"Yes." He didn't say another word. He didn't need to. There was so much emotion in that simple acknowledgment, so much love. He put his arms around her and held her against him. He was still having difficulty putting his thoughts into words. They stayed that way for a long while, holding each other, kissing, whispering to each other. Every now and then she'd feel him tremble.

Oh, yes, he was very pleased.