Gwen poured another cup of coffee and went to the landing. Wrapped in her robe, she sat on the berth waiting for Greylen and his men. They met in the study every morning, discussing whatever it was they talked about, and then together they’d head to the front doors.

Watching them was her favorite part of the day, and she smiled as she heard them coming down the hallway. Then they appeared. Seven of the most wonderful men in the entire world.

They were all huge, with dark hair of varying lengths and incredible bodies. Today they wore ebony-colored breeches and light-colored shirts. Their swords were angled across their backs and cylinders filled with quivers were thrown over their shoulders. But what appealed to her most were their eyes. No matter what trouble they thought she caused, it was only respect and concern that they looked to her with. And no matter how many times they lied straight to her face, she knew they did so only to protect her.

“Boys,” she called playfully, rewarded with seven smiles as they turned. “Don’t forget, we’re having pizza tonight for dinner. Pick it up on your way home, okay?” They all nodded, clapping her husband on the back before heading out the door. Greylen, however, remained, holding her gaze the longest. Then he turned to join his men.

Chapter 19

His wife dressed for dinner.

She looked resplendent in pale blue. Her hair was secured with a jeweled clip he’d gifted her with just that morn and her legs were crossed as she sat before the fire in the great hall, her foot rotating provocatively. The cordwainer must’ve had a fit fashioning her sandals. More to the point, she must’ve had the fit bending him to her will. The sandals were delicate and similar to those she wore the night he wed her. The heel on these, however, had to be three inches longer, and no more than a spike. His appetite increased…for her.

She turned and smiled, as if she was pleased by his appearance. He and Gavin were both dressed impeccably in white linen shirts and black trousers tucked into tall, polished boots. Their hair was still wet, having bathed in the lake before entering the keep, a habit after their long days.

Greylen walked to Gwen and brought her hand to his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said.

Gavin poured wine and handed a goblet to each of them before placing the last atop the harpsichord for Isabelle.

“Greylen, come play with me,” Isabelle called.

“Aye, Sprite, something lively,” he dared.

“You play, Greylen?” Gwen asked, surprised.

“One of my many talents,” he teased.

Gwen snorted. “My God your ego knows no bounds.” Then she turned to his first-in-command. “Gavin, come dance with me,” she called. “We’ll teach my monger husband and his saucy sister how to move to such music.”