“You may ask the physician who tended to me,” Summer responded with dignity. “I could have returned on my own, though but slowly.” A touch shyly, she added, “I would not refuse a chance to be in your arms, your grace. Though I fear you will think me too forward to say so.”
He could not help but chuckle at her words as he readjusted her so that she was closer to him, they began to walk through the hallways, and the servants looked at the both of them before they rushed off.
Rumours would abound soon of them, but Henry did not care much for rumours.
“You would be the envy of every woman in the court,” he said, “As long as they do not think that it was I who caused your injury in the first place.”
“I would set them aright, and right swiftly too. ‘Twas my own foolishness and no other thing. Your grace could no more harm a lady than could fly.” Once again, Summer tucked her head to his shoulder, closing her eyes to better breathe in the scent of him. Perhaps she /was/ falling in love with her King. There were worse folk on whom to bestow affection, be it returned or no.