He wanted to pull her down onto him, to feel her hair spill free between their naked bodies and kiss her, make her gasp with pleasure until she forgot everything but him. He hated that he could not.

“And if he has a secret desire for you?”

“He does not.” There was laughter behind her words, as though she found the idea absurd. But she sensed his doubt. She spread her fingers over his cheek as she leaned over him and said, “Think you I would not if know he lusted me? Think you I could be easy with him if he did? Have sense, Welshman.”

Like a fog lifting, the doubt left him. Never would she be so free with Robin – embracing him, allowing his nearness, smiling as he greeted her with kisses – if there was even the chance he felt more than brotherly toward her. She whispered a good night and brushed her lips softly against Gryff’s before retreating to sleep a short distance from him.

Somehow he slept, and in the morning they walked to Whitting. It was only two hours, and Gryff might have forgotten to worry about what awaited them there if not for Robin, whose every manner suggested anticipation of a great surprise. Something even better than pork pie, he had said last night, and Gryff could not fathom what it might be.

Nan had obviously told Robin last night, as part of their whispering, that Gryff came from Aderinyth. When Robin asked why he had not said so, Gryff only shrugged and said he had been a boy when last he had seen the place. They spoke of falconry in yet more detail for the short journey, and Gryff felt his dislike for Robin Manton dissolve almost completely.

They reached the manor long before midday. It was not a large place, but very well kept with a good number of buildings in excellent repair. The prosperous manor of an inconsequential lord, he thought, until he saw the dovecote, and the very fine palfreys in the stables. Gryff pulled his hood up, wary.

“Good fortune is with us again, Nan.”

Robin was smiling at her as he handed his rouncey over to a boy who had run from the stables. Nan raised her eyebrows at him in question as they walked toward the hall. Just as they reached it, a man stepped out, his face full of surprise and pleasure. Fuss immediately ran to him, yelping happily.

Robin cried, “Uncle Rob!” and threw his arms around him in greeting.

This, apparently, was the surprise. Gryff felt only relief that he did not recognize the man. He was older, with gray hair at his temples and deep lines of laughter around his eyes. He and Robin were alike in their warm and cheerful demeanor, obvious at a glance.

“There’s our Nan,” said Lord Robert with gentle satisfaction, when he broke free of Robin’s embrace.