He held up his palm and cupped his hand, demonstrating.
“It is a good thing you are not overlarge,” she teased.
He playfully narrowed his eyes at her. “I look forward to reminding you of the truth, dear wife.”
Cat smiled around a bite of pheasant, enjoying the unusual curry spice and savoring her husband’s warm regard.
“I could not return to the village,” he continued. “Not as I was. But with luck and perseverance I did find the pair of thieves. They lolled about in the shade and enjoyed their bounty.”
She lifted her brows. “Village children?”
He shook his head. “Goats.”
“Goats?”
“Yes, a pair of goats sat across a meadow, happily munching on my trousers and tunic.”
“But you got them back?”
“It was not so simple as that. I approached the guilty pair very stealthily, of course.”
“In all your naked glory.”
“Yes, well, my glory must have been enough to frighten them, for they quickly scampered away, my clothing locked in their mouths. I chased them and was led right into the center of their flock. The tricky pair hid within their own brothers and I could not tell them apart.”
“Sneaky goats.”
“I chased them all, determined to ferret out the two.” He stopped to eat his pheasant. “Not only did I scare the entire herd but the shepherdess as well.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. The poor girl. I did not see her until the herd separated.” He made a parting motion with his hands, as if scattering the herd. “There she was, all youth and innocence.”
“And you unclothed.”
“Not just unclothed, but flailing about with my hands in the air and my, well, jewels exposed to all.” Jamie waved his hands about, mimicking the motion.
Cat pressed her linen napkin to her lips, trying to swallow her bite of pheasant. This was too funny.
“The shepherdess ran away, of course, and I almost had those tricky goats in my grasp when a gunshot exploded. Bam!”
She jumped.
“I covered myself with one hand and put the other in the air.” Again, he demonstrated with his hands, dropping one into his lap and lifting the other in a gesture of surrender. “Her father had come down, angry and armed.”
“What did you do?”
“He spoke only the thickest dialect. I could not make sense of him, and he certainly could not make sense of me. I was forced to use my hands to try to communicate and, well, you can picture that.” Jamie lifted his hand from his lap and held it in the air. “There wasn’t even a rock to stand behind. I tried to point to the guilty goats, but they had hidden themselves, clever pair that they were. I tried to explain to him about the goats taking my clothes.”
Jamie made the oddest motions with his hands, a kind of charade that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever seen. Her laughter was not to be stopped.
“That looks nothing like a goat taking clothing.”
“The father did not think so either. By this time his daughter and half the village had arrived to watch the scene. The farmer pointed toward his daughter and I shook my head and made clear ‘no’ signals with my hands.” Jamie crossed his hands like a sharp X. “I pointed to the goats instead.”
“Oh, Jamie.” Her smile ached now.
“Yes, not the best choice. The villagers collapsed into an uproar of hilarity, thinking I wanted to abuse the goats and not the shepherdess. The father only grew angrier. I thought for certain I would be shot.”
“How did you finally explain?”
“Finally a villager arrived who understood Parisian French and was able to translate to the farmer.” Jamie dropped his head into his hands. “The guilty goats were caught, but my clothes were completely ruined.”
“I hope they gave you something to wear.”
“Yes, I was the guest of honor after that. It was quite dark by the time I was returned to my lodging, dressed in clothing that was made for someone of a much smaller stature.”
She shook her head at him. “I do not know if I can believe such a ridiculous tale.”
“I wish it weren’t true.” Jamie shrugged, his blue eyes twinkling. “If only to save my pride.”
Taking a sip of wine, Cat considered her husband. Dark, handsome and smiling, he reminded her of the boy she had fallen in love with. But there was an edge to him now, a maturity that was thrilling and startling at once.
I need an heir, Catherine.
The question remained. Was she ready to welcome him to her bed?
HIS WIFE WENT BACK to her room. Alone.
Jamie stared at the connecting door between their chambers, wondering where he’d gone wrong. His embarrassing story had appeared to entertain her. He’d even savored an after-dinner glass of port as Cat played Mozart—his favorite—on the piano. Lacy underthings and soft skin happily danced through his imagination with each small smile she gave him.
Then he had simply stood there, a hopeful fool, as she bid him good night and went upstairs. That was not how he had planned for the evening to end.
Was he to follow? Leave her be? Beg? Insist?