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The note made her laugh, and what she liked best was that he wasn’t sulking because of what she’d said to him yesterday. She’d always despised sulkers! Sitting with their lips stuck out, wanting people to beg them to tell what they thought you had done wrong. Then you had to plead, explain, and grovel to get them to forgive you for something they had misunderstood. No, thank you!

  She went upstairs to the big bathroom and was glad the water had been turned on in the house. Her hair had come out of its braid, but then she remembered that it had been Graydon—no, Garrett—who had taken it down. Smiling at the memory of her dream, she rebraided it. Ten minutes later she was dressed in her workout clothes. There was a mirror on the back of the door and she glanced at herself. While it was true that she wasn’t athletic and didn’t belong to a sports club, her job entailed a lot of lifting of heavy garden flats and terra-cotta pots. All in all, she was glad she looked good in her tight clothes.

  When she went back down to the sitting room to get the basket, she glanced at the paneled wall that she knew concealed a door. She would have thought that in the bright light of day the hidden room would hold no fear for her, but it did. In fact, a part of her felt that if she opened the door and stepped inside, she would not come out alive.

  Grabbing the basket, Toby left the big house and hurried across the lane. She couldn’t help wondering how Graydon would react after the way she’d bawled him out. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so harsh. She could have modified her words. Actually, she should have sat down with him and, in an adult manner, told him what her complaints were.

  She hoped he wasn’t too depressed over their argument.

  When she got to the front door, she was about to open it, but a sound from the back made her turn to the path. As she got closer to the backyard, the sound was louder, almost like steel striking steel.

  She ran the last few steps, then halted.

  Graydon and Daire were both wearing loose white trousers tucked into black boots that laced halfway up their calves—and their upper bodies were bare. They were fighting each other with what looked to be heavy medieval broadswords.

  Toby stood under a tree and watched them. Daire was a bit taller, a few pounds heavier, and his skin was a few shades darker than Graydon’s. He was indeed beautiful, but it was Graydon whom she couldn’t take her eyes off. She’d seen him wearing very little when they’d gone swimming but they had been mostly underwater.

  The early morning sunlight glinted off his bare, sweat-glistening upper body. His dark hair and eyes seemed to gleam. There was no fat on him, just long, lean muscles, and very little hair on his chest. His pants hung so low that the V that led downward was exposed.

  The way he moved took her breath away. He and Daire circled each other, and when Daire swung his sword as though he meant to cut Graydon in half, Toby took a step forward, meaning to stop the fight. But Graydon leaped up and came down two feet away, missing Daire’s sword by no more than an inch.

  Laughing, Graydon said something in Lanconian. Daire replied with what seemed to be a threat and a ferocious swing of his sword. Again Graydon easily leaped away.

  For all that their fight showed enormous skill and beauty, Toby wanted it to stop. If Daire hit Graydon, he could injure him badly.

  It was Lorcan who saw Toby. The tall woman had just come out of the house. She was wearing the same white trousers and black boots as the men, but a tight black tank top covered her large breasts. In her hand was a sword like the men had.

  When Toby turned to look at Lorcan, she grimaced. Heaven only knew what the woman was going to think since Toby had been away all night. That she’d been out partying? Spending the night with a dozen men?

  Silently, Lorcan walked to Toby, her beautiful face expressionless.

  “Look,” Toby said, “I don’t want any problems. You and I—” She broke off because Lorcan went down on one knee in front of her. In a movement that looked as though Lorcan had rehearsed it a thousand times, she extended her arms straight out, her hands into fists, the palms down. Across her outstretched arms was the wide sword, and her head was bent forward so far that the back of her neck was exposed.

  In astonishment, Toby looked across the garden toward Graydon. He saw her just as Daire’s sword was flying toward his middle. When Graydon didn’t jump out of the way, Toby let out a little scream, her fist to her mouth.

  But Daire stopped his sword just in time to keep from slashing into Graydon.

  “Holy Jura!” Daire shouted, then said something in Lanconian that Toby felt sure was a string of curse words.

  But Graydon ignored the invective as he stood there looking at Toby.

  She started to say something but Daire strode forward to take his place beside Lorcan. They were in identical stances, both of them in one-legged kneeling positions, arms extended, heads bowed, their swords across their arms. As far as Toby could tell, Lorcan hadn’t moved an inch since she’d gone into the position.

  Graydon, moving to Toby, spoke. “They are offering their swords for you to use if you wish to remove their heads.”

  She looked at him to see if he was joking, but Graydon’s face was absolutely serious. “They have offended you and misjudged you,” he explained.

  “And I guess since I’m connected to their king, they deserve the ultimate punishment.” In answer, Graydon gave a curt affirmative nod.

  Toby’s impulse was to immediately tell them to get up, but that would seem insulting to their formality. She looked down at them. “I am impressed with your great loyalty to your future king and your country,” she said. “But you really should understand that not all women in this world are trying to get him. I just felt sorry for him for having no place to stay and … well, I’m not sure how the rest of it happened, but I can assure you that I do not have any plans to upset your country. That’s all. You can get up now.”

  But they didn’t move.

  Toby looked over them at Graydon. “You must say you forgive them.”

  “It’s you I don’t forgive,” she said. “So shouldn’t you be down there with them?”

  Graydon’s eyes showed he was suppressing a smile. “Kings only surrender if there’s a war.”

  Toby looked back at the two kneeling figures and thought that they must be aching from their stance. “I forgive you. Get up! Please.”

  Daire and Lorcan raised their heads. Lorcan looked solemn but Daire’s eyes were laughing. They stood up.

  “Come on,” Graydon said to Toby. “I’ll let you have a chance at beheading me.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had this year.”

  “I have weeks before I leave, so there’s still hope for better to come.” She tried not to laugh but wasn’t successful.

  “Let’s see what you can do,” Graydon said.

  She took the sword he held out to her, but then nearly fell backward. “How much does this thing weigh?”

  “About thirty-two pounds,” Graydon said as he held his straight out toward her.

  “I choose Daire to be my champion,” she said.

  Graydon was bending forward and beginning to circle her. “You’re confusing England with Lanconia. In my country each man is his own champion.”

  Toby lifted the heavy sword and stuck it down into one of the raised flower beds. “I have a wedding to plan, and now I know exactly what Victoria wants.” She started toward the house, but Graydon caught her by the waist, her back to his front. His lips were by her ear.

  “Do you want a surrender from me? A groveling apology?” he asked.

  She knew she should push him away but there was something so primeval, so visceral, about his sweaty bare chest against her back that she didn’t move. “I’d rather hear the truth. Did you send Lexie away?”

  “That was purely Rory’s idea.” There was pride in his voice. “I saw no reason to say no to his scheme.”

  “Did you give me Victoria’s wedding to plan and were you involved in relieving me of my job?”

  “No. That was all f