arrive later today."
"Micheline and I are pleased to have all our friends here for this joyous occasion." His keen eyes met those of the younger man, remembering that Dangerfield had known of his wife's infidelity. There was only one possible reason for him to wish to attend this wedding, and that was to punish Iris and drive home the point that Lord Sandhurst was no longer available. "I'm sure that my father is especially pleased that King Henry and London nobility will be represented at the wedding after all."
After introducing Micheline to Dangerfield, Sandhurst drew on soft doeskin gloves. "I trust you both will understand if we leave your entertainment to the other members of my family. It's a busy time for us."
"Never fear!" Rupert piped up eagerly, rushing over to gain his half brother's attention. "Patience and I have a game of chance planned for the afternoon. I'm going to teach our guests to play passe-dix and lansquenet! Of course, it won't be as amusing as those card tricks you do, but I'll try to be a proper substitute."
Micheline wrinkled her nose slightly at Rupert's horrendous pronunciation of the French game, while Sandhurst glanced at him in mild surprise.
"Where did you learn passe-dix and lansquenet?"
"Oh, a Frenchman taught me one night in a tavern in London." Rupert turned excitedly to the Dangerfields, gesturing with both spindly arms. "You can teach these games to the royal court when you go back! They'll make you terribly popular, I'll wager!"
"We'll leave you to it, then," Andrew said dryly as he wondered how much resemblance Rupert's interpretation of the games would bear to the authentic versions.
As they left the solar, Micheline could feel Iris's eyes burning the place where Sandhurst's hand rode at the small of her back. She couldn't help thinking about the noise she'd heard during the night, now that she knew Iris had been in the castle, but told herself that it was silly to imagine anything so farfetched. At any rate, Timothy Dangerfield was here to keep an eye on his wife, and Micheline herself was too happy to waste time brooding about Iris's ill feelings.
When they emerged into the sunlight, Micheline looked up at Sandhurst's thoughtful countenance. "Why didn't you tell me about these important visitors?"
He laughed and wrapped an arm around her. "Truth to tell, I forgot! Your nearness, and the prospect of our wedding, drove all else from my mind."
She felt drenched in bliss, but a shadow lingered. When he led his horse out of the stable into the sun-splashed courtyard and asked if she might prefer to accompany him on his errands, Micheline was tempted.
"I suppose you think I'm quaking with fear because your Iris Dangerfield is in the castle!"
He smiled fondly at the sight of her delicately clefted chin raised in mock challenge.
"She's not my Iris Dangerfield!" he rejoined in protest.
"Well, she used to be." Micheline pretended to pout. "And she'd still like to be."
Sandhurst left his horse and went forward to slide both hands around her slender waist, drawing her firmly against his hard body. "She never was my Iris Dangerfield," he corrected in a low, arousingvoice. "I was only passing time, waiting to find you." His mouth grazed hers. "My closest friend." Another tantalizing kiss. "My love... and, on the morrow, my wife." When her lips parted helplessly under his, he allowed their tongues to touch for an instant. Then Andrew's hand came up to frame her lovely face, his fingers laced through glossy hair as he stared down at her.
"My Micheline."
* * *
No sooner had Andrew ridden off than Micheline encountered the rest of the party from London as they entered the courtyard after inspecting the keep. Among them were the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk, Thomas Wyatt, and Robert Cheseman, the king's falconer. Richly garbed ladies of the court accompanied them, and Micheline went forward to offer greetings
Though she continued to feel that these members of the English nobility were inspecting and even looking down on her, it mattered little. The memory of Andrew's voice and touch lingered, infusing her with a dreamy glow.
The others went inside after hearing that French games were the order of the afternoon, but she decided impetuously to remain outdoors and ride over the Yorkshire hillsides. A groom provided a sweet-tempered mare who cantered past limestone walls, fat sheep, black-stockinged lambs, and groves of trees where tiny long-tailed tits sang ze-ze as they searched for insects.
At length Micheline dismounted, deciding to pick a bouquet of