Before he could decide if he wanted to be an intelligent husband or a snippy bastard, she kissed him, and when her tongue slipped into his mouth, he decided being an intelligent husband was the far better choice.

Wrapping his arms around her, he sank into the kiss, soaring on the feel of her body brushing against his.

She scraped her teeth over his chin. “Did you notice that Ladvarian chose the Coach that has a bed?”

“I noticed.”

She licked his throat. “Do you think you can perform your duties as a husband, or are you too wounded?”

Since she was pressed against him, the answer was rather evident, but he said, “Oh, I think I can manage.”

5

“I appreciate your having us to stay tonight,” Daemon said as Khary refilled the brandy snifters. In Scelt, the Blood still held with that quaint custom of the men and women separating after dinner for a while so that each group could chat with their own gender. So he and Khary had remained in the dining room while Jaenelle and Morghann had gone to the sitting room.

“Well, you could say we were expecting company,” Khary replied, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Especially since Ladvarian came pelting up to the house earlier today, saying he needed a picnic in a hurry and could we have you and Jaenelle to dinner and put you up for the night.”

Daemon tried not to wince. “We could have stayed at Jaenelle’s house.”

“Now, that you couldn’t. The staff put most of the furniture under dustcovers after Wilhelmina moved to her own cottage. This way, the house can be put to rights before your next visit.” Khary gave Daemon an expectant look.

He smiled. “I have some business in Amdarh that requires my immediate attention, so we’ll be going back to Dhemlan in the morning, but we’re planning to come back here after the wedding for at least part of the honeymoon. And now that Jaenelle is completely healed, I expect we’ll be dividing our time between here and the Hall.”

Khary rolled his snifter between his hands. “Wilhelmina said you settled a generous income on her.”

Daemon shrugged. “She’s Jaenelle’s sister. The family could afford it.”

“Ah.”

As they drank their brandy, the silence took on the weight of anticipation. Of course, there had been a feeling of anticipation since he and Jaenelle arrived at the home of the Queen of Scelt and the Warlord of Maghre. Morghann and Khary had greeted the news of their intended marriage with enthusiasm and hearty well-wishing, but as the evening wore on, Daemon couldn’t shake the feeling that Khary especially was waiting for something.

“Perhaps we should join the Ladies for coffee,” Daemon said, pushing away from the table.

“If you’re trying to keep it a secret, you should stop playing with the ring,” Khary said quietly.