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“Mmmm, wha – ?” he said with a start.

“I need you to roll over onto your stomach so I can do your back.” She wiggled the bottle of lotion in his face, and comprehension dawned in his eyes. Aimee braced herself for objection, but when he rolled obligingly onto his front, Aimee breathed a sigh of relief. Her fingers were tingling and would likely ache later from overuse, but she was vastly enjoying herself.

Getting to run her hands all over the plains and bunched muscles of his back was a treat indeed, and Aimee reveled in the opportunity to enjoy his wondrous body in a manner she would never have dared to dream of a mere twelve months ago.

She thought of the Aimee who had sat enraptured at Kellingford and imagined telling her that one day she would have free reign and dominion over Lord Kentigern’s magnificent body. She would scarce have been able to comprehend such a thing. She let her hands roam more greedily than worshipfully over his shoulder blades, curving them forward over the muscles in the base of his neck, and heard him give a muffled groan.

“There?” Aimee asked gently. “That is where my sister always gets her aches and pains,” she said working her fingers into the knotted muscle. “Though her neck and shoulders are a good deal more delicate than yours.”

“That is where you learned this? On your sister?” he asked, his voice thick and husky, though whether it was with sleep or pleasure, Aimee was not sure. Perhaps both. For some reason, it made her pulse race and her own breathing quicken. Unable to resist, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss against the base of his neck. “Yes. She said I have healing hands.”

When he groaned again, she concentrated on the area that wrung it from him until he relaxed again under her fingers, and she drifted down over the backs of his arms and then down his spine until she reached the curve of his backside. Here she halted, adjusted the sheet which was a little twisted, and then moved down the bed to see to his tense calves and the backs of his thighs.

He was sore in his thighs and flinched at the cooling lotion, so she tarried on them a while, listening carefully for the telling hitch in his breathing. When she reached his buttocks again, she hesitated.

“Can I touch you here?” she asked curiously. When he did not answer, she realized he had drifted off into sleep. She hesitated, was it proper? But after all, he had touched her there, had he not? Chewing the side of her mouth, she peeled down the sheet, exposing his backside. How strange, she thought, but I find that beautiful too!

She poured the lotion into her palms to warm it a moment before she spread it over his firm buttocks, kneading and spreading her fingers over the supple skin. It was smooth and soft here instead of rough and abused. This skin had not been exposed to the elements or chafed beneath chainmail!

“You had better stop,” he said regretfully. “I am enjoying it a bit too much.”

Aimee’s hands halted even as she frowned over his words. “Why should you not enjoy it?” she puzzled.

He gave a huff of laughter and rolled lazily onto his back. “See?” He gestured toward his groin where the drying sheet was showing a good deal of disturbance. Aimee blinked. Oh. “If you are expecting visitors shortly,” he continued dryly, “then I need to enjoy myself a little less or I will be embarrassing myself.”

“Will it just go back down by itself?” Aimee asked curiously.

“It will,” he answered. “If I shut my eyes and think of something disagreeable for a while.”

Aimee thought about this. “Perhaps I ought not to have invited your friends to return,” she said with some regret.

“That is not helpful,” he replied. “Now I am thinking about what we would be doing if you were not such a keen hostess.”

“So am I,” Aimee agreed without thinking, and Konrad groaned.

“Stop talking, Aimee,” he growled, so she stood up and made for their packs again to start unpacking the wine and wrapped cheeses, leaving him in peace to get control of himself.

When she heard someone moving outside the tent, she moved to the entrance and saw it was Jakeman who had set down three chairs and a blanket.

“This is excellent, Jakeman. I wonder if you could find us a loaf of bread and three more wine goblets?”

“Right willingly, milady,” he said and set off again across the meadow. Aimee watched him with approval for a moment before ducking back inside the pavilion.

The bed rustled, and Aimee allowed herself the briefest of glimpses in that direction. Konrad was running a hand over his face. With a resigned sigh, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He flexed first one arm and then the other, a look of surprise spreading across his face.

Aimee hid her smile and carried the first of her packages outside to set on the table ready for their guests. She busied herself, laying out the cheeses, pickles, and nuts as Jakeman went back and forth emptying the basin of washing water and fetching more for her to wash.

She had just poured the first of the wineskins into a ceramic wine jug when Jakeman informed her that her water was readied, and Konrad came sauntering out looking refreshed and wearing a dark green tunic. “You look well,” she exclaimed in surprise.

“I feel well,” he admitted and dropped into a chair. “Quite revived, in fact. Thanks to you.”

“Mayhap you should bring me to all your tournaments, then, my lord,” she suggested boldly, before disappearing into the tent to complete her own hurried wash. By the time she emerged, Konrad had already been joined by Sir Fulke, Sir Douglas, and Sir Leonard. They greeted her enthusiastically, starting to scramble to their feet, until she bade them to take their ease.

Joining them, Aimee slipped into a seat next to her husband. She took a piece of buttered bread and cheese and accepted the goblet of wine that was pressed on her. “Have you all been regaling one another with tales of valor?” she asked, curious as to what they had been discussing. They glanced around at each other before her husband cleared his throat.

“We were just discussing de Crecy’s pavilion,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Sir Jeffree’s pavilion?” Aimee echoed, lowering her cup. “I do not think I have seen it.”