No Fury

Now: Thirty One

Tapping the door only once with my fist, I startle backward when it flies open, and I am met with a tall, muscled man wearing a brown tunic over rough trousers.

His eyes search mine before recognition dawns. "Cathryn?"

On instinct, I fall into a deep bow. "My Lordship . . ."

His hand comes around my elbow, righting me. "Aw, there, dove." Laughing, he cups my cheek, wearing an enormous smile. "I'm no royal. Come in. I've waited these many years to meet you." Looking behind me, he asks, "No Harry?"

"He had to prepare for the festival."

James makes a face that tells me he finds this as odd as I do, and I wonder briefly whether Harry is worried about James' reaction to the news of our child. But if he is, why would he leave me here alone to weather it?

The cottage is larger than it looks from the outside, built into the side of a hill. A broad living area fans out from the entryway, crowded with plush furniture and beautiful hand-woven rugs. A small cooking space is visible toward the back. A dark hallway leads down to where I imagine I would find the sleeping quarters.

I finish the visual circuit of the room and look back up at his face. He has spent the time studying me, and his smile seems to have softened, grown fonder. "Well, then. I'm James."

His unnecessary introduction is made sweeter by a familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Hallo, James."

He gives me a tiny formal bow, and then bends, kissing my cheek.

"Before anything else, let's start at the top." James moves to the wood burning stove, setting an iron kettle atop. "Tea?"

"Please, my Lord."

His laugh is a husky chuckle and he shakes his head, murmuring. "I'll need to break you of that habit."

"I'm sorry," I say, moving farther into the room and glancing around helplessly. The surreal feeling hits me quickly, and I grow dizzy. "I'm a bit at a loss over how to behave here."

He doesn't even know why I've come.

Will he send me away?

Will he be angry, thinking I've made to trap the prince?

"Well, you could tell me to what I owe the honor of your visit?" He looks over his shoulder at me, adding with a furrowed brow, "Though I admit I expected Harry to bring you the first time we met."

"I suspect he didn't plan for me to visit you today, either."

"Ah?" he asks, bending to stoke the fire.

My skin burns hot from my chest to my cheeks.

"He left me at your doorstep, but had to return," I babble. "You see, he's only just heard, and we're both a bit . . . surprised, you see. He wanted you to have a look . . ."

James turns to me, eyebrows pulled close together and then in my continued silence, his expression clears, eyes shining. "Ah."

"Right," I murmur.

"You're with child."

"Yes, sir. He didn't want me to see the midwife without speaking to you first."

My heart falls down in my chest: I never would have expected the smile that overtakes James' face. And I never would have expected him to look so much like my prince when that smile appears: dimpled and warm.

Warm as the sun.

After several breaths where we simply stare at each other in shock, he turns away when the teakettle whistles.