“If you had found me in the library, I’m sure you would ask me what I was reading, yes, highness? You have a quite fine copy of Lancelot, the Knight of the Cart, which I enjoyed very much. May we not speak of literature and fine writing? Surely such topics cannot excite gossip, and if it does, well, I care not. There is naught that may be said as could hurt me.” She tossed her head disdainfully.
He looked at her with a slight smile, he did not notice he was staring at her until she looked back at him and he shook himself out of the reverie.
“Did you enjoy the book my lady?” he asked her, “It has been a while since I have looked upon the library, John is the one most likely to be found upon the bookcases and the rows of literature and words.”
“Had I known that, I would have asked you some other where. Perhaps the gardens, or the stables, or the music room?” Summer swung herself around and stood up, carefully favouring her ankle. She approached Henry, watching his face closely. “My lord, I must admit, my motivations are somewhat suspect, for you have been far more than kind to me and I am impelled to repay that somehow. Yet you deflect my every attempt. What may I do to please you?”