friend was to be married to some lord from the north. Emilie's parents' castle had been close to Windsor, and her visits prior to that had been most frequent. Neither of them had been pleased that she would be married and moved so far away. Murie had toyed with the idea of asking the king to prevent it, but then Reginald had arrived at court, and the couple had fallen so obviously in love that Murie had not.
Shaking her head at Emilie's unrepentant grin, Murie turned to Reginald and said, "I would have, had you not been so perfect for each other."
"Then I should tell you that I am grateful you have always been a good friend to my wife, Murie Somerdale," he replied solemnly.
"That would be Lady Gaynor, Reynard! And just where the hell is it you are taking my wife?"
The three paused at the foot of the stairs, and Reginald turned back with Murie still in his arms to stare up at Balan. Murie bit her lip. Her husband was wearing only a cotehardie and no leggings, and his hair was standing up every which way, and he really looked angry. It was enough to make her burst into speech.
"Good morning, husband. I got up on my own. I had to go to the privy. Fortunately, I happened upon Emilie in the hall, and she showed me where it was, but when she tried to get me to go back to bed, I explained that I am very hungry, so she asked Reginald to carry me down here, and now I am going to sit at table and eat because really I have been very ill, and I do need to build my strength back up, and I did not wish to disturb you while you were sleeping." She paused in her almost panicked explanation to take a breath, then asked, "Did you sleep well?" A sudden burble of laughter from Emilie made them all glance her way. She held an open hand before her face and shook her head. "I am sorry. Ignore me. It is probably being with child making me hysterical."
"That, or the fact that my husband is standing up there in no leggings, flashing himself to all and sundry in the hall," Murie said. She glanced at Balan, trying not to stare up his cotehardie.
"Really, husband .. . perhaps you should finish dressing." Balan did not cover himself or look embarrassed. He merely scowled harder, then turned to stalk back to their room. Reginald continued on to the table, carrying Murie, a giggling Emilie following. Murie said wryly, "Well.. . now everyone knows how well endowed my husband truly is. Is that not nice?"
"Already?" Murie stared at her husband in dismay. He'd been glowering and glaring since returning to the great hall fully clothed, but she'd not thought that he was annoyed enough to cut short their visit to Reynard and make her leave the day after they got there.
"We have to get to Gaynor and prepare for winter," he said.
"Aye, but you said we might stay a week - or a few days at least. I heard you tell Reginald that," she accused.
"Aye, and we have been here a week."
"What?" She gaped at him in disbelief, but recalled from what he'd said to Osgoode back at court that he wouldn't lie to her. Still... Her gaze shot to Emilie for confirmation.
The woman nodded solemnly. 'You have been very ill, Murie. It hit you much harder than it did Balan. You were delirious for this whole week."
Murie slumped in her seat with dismay, not having realized how long she'd been under the weather. She did not even recall waking since arriving at Reynard, yet they said she'd awakened several times this last week. Incredible.
"I am sorry that you will not get to spend more time with Emilie while you are conscious," Balan added, "But we cannot spare the time. We will give you this day to recover and visit, but we will have to continue on in the morning. Reginald has offered us the wagon for the remainder of the journey so that you may rest."
"Rest? In that hellish contraption?" she asked. She shook her head. "Oh, nay. I shall ride a horse. I am not riding in the wagon."
"We are almost there."
Murie glowered at her husband from where she was bouncing about in the back of the wagon. He looked so bloody cheerful, while she was horribly miserable. She wanted to snatch his