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sweet potatoes will be coming out later. The boys and I will eat in the keeping room, and then go upstairs right afterward. Heria can make sure the little ones eat, and Corelle can clean up with the girls.’’
    ‘‘I will make sure you have a clean kitchen for morning,’’ Summer said.
    ‘‘Thank you, Summer. I’ll make sure our mothers know who acted the idiot and who didn’t today.’’
    Summer suddenly caught him into a hug. ‘‘Oh, Jerin, I was an idiot! I knew we were leaving you and the babies alone! I let Corelle bully me into going. What if they had been raiders? We could have lost everything.’’
    ‘‘I know. I know. Now, let me finish dinner.’’
    Jerin had picked at his dinner and then left the kitchen without thinking of taking a snack. Later, he found himself so hungry that he couldn’t sleep. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. The house was silent. No one was up. He could slip downstairs, he told himself, grab some- A BROTHER’S PRICE
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    thing to eat from the pantry, and return with no one being the wiser.
    He crawled out of bed, and stood a moment in darkness. Normally he’d pull on his trousers in addition to his nightshirt before going downstairs. Tonight, though, his three younger brothers were in his room, restless in their strange beds. He would have to light the lamp to find his trousers. He could imagine a cascade of events, starting with the lamp waking the boys and ending with the rest of the house awake.
    It would only take a minute to run downstairs and raid the kitchen. I don’t need trousers. My nightshirt reaches my knees—it’s nearly a walking robe . The kitchen seemed huge in the darkness. Flames still danced in the hearth; Summer must not have properly banked the cook fires. He frowned, crossing to the hearth, not sure if he should take the time to settle the fire.
    ‘‘So my sister isn’t imagining things,’’ a female voice drawled in the darkness.
    Jerin startled backward, almost into the flames of the open fire pit. There was motion, and arms pulled him away from the fire with a low croon of ‘‘Careful, careful.’’
    ‘‘Your Highness!’’ His heart hammered in his throat as he recognized a gleam of red hair and delicate features before his body eclipsed the firelight.
    ‘‘I didn’t mean to frighten you,’’ the princess murmured, a dark form with strong arms about him. ‘‘My sister claimed a beautiful man carried her up from the stream, but I thought she imagined it. Who would let a man risk his reputation so?’’
    ‘‘A sister who will soon be in deep trouble with her mothers and older sisters.’’
    ‘‘Sister?’’ One arm lifted from his hip to run fingers through his waist-long hair. ‘‘You’re not a husband?’’
    He bit his lip. Husbands were more dearly protected 34
    Wen Spencer
    by the law than brothers. He shouldn’t have spoken—
    each word he said was a danger to him.
    ‘‘Come, come,’’ Princess Rennsellaer coaxed gently,
    ‘‘I’m not going to carry you off like some husband raider.’’
    ‘‘I’m a brother. I’ll be of age in two months.’’
    The princess turned him slightly so the fire was to her back, the light a gleaming halo about the nimbus of her shadowed hair. Her fingers touched his cheek, trailed down to cup his chin. ‘‘Your family runs to good looks.’’
    ‘‘Our grandfather was an exceedingly handsome man,’’
    Jerin admitted, aware suddenly that he wore only one sheer layer of cotton, that she wore nearly the same, and then her left hand cupped his buttocks, pressing his body to hers. ‘‘I came down for a bite of something.’’
    ‘‘I have something here you can nibble on,’’ she murmured, catching his hand, guiding it under her sleeping shirt. Her skin was soft, warm, and firm. His body reacted to the touch while his mind floundered in panic. How much force could you use denying the crown princess without bringing trouble down on your head?
    ‘‘Your