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of the onlookers.
    Philippa wedged herself into the group next to Sir Walter. “Do you dice, sir?” she asked him, looking up at him with a small smile.
    “On occasion,” he admitted, his eyes going immediately to her shadowed cleavage. And he unconsciously licked his lips approvingly.
    “I have never played at dice,” Philippa said innocently, instantly attracting the attention of Sir Walter and several other gentlemen. “Is it hard?”
    “Not very,” Sir Walter replied, smiling toothily as she looked up at him, her hazel eyes wide with curiosity. “Would you like me to show you, Mistress Meredith?”
    “Oh, would you,” Philippa cooed sweetly. “What shall I wager?” She reached for the little purse that hung from the cord about her waist. “Oh, I hope I have enough.”
    Both Bessie Blount and Tony Deane looked sharply at Philippa. They knew she was not the silly girl she was playing at, but they remained silent, curious to see what would happen.
    “Oh, we must not take your precious coin,” Sir Walter said gallantly. “Let us play for a kiss instead, Mistress Meredith.”
    “I have never been kissed,” Philippa declared. “Would it not endanger my reputation and my good name to be so bold, sir?”
    Sir Walter looked stymied. To tell the girl her character would remain pure if she diced for kisses would be an outright lie. But by God he did want to kiss her now, knowing she was untouched. And fumble those adorable little round breasts she was so boldly displaying.
    “I am not of a mind to relinquish the dice when I am on a winning streak,” Tony Deane said finally. “Why not watch how it is done, Philippa. Then later you may try, but wager a ha’penny, and not your good name.”
    “Yes, yes,” Sir Walter agreed, “I shall explain it all while Tony plays on, Mistress Meredith.” He put an arm about her narrow waist, and was pleased when she leaned against him rather than pulling away.
    “Very well,” Philippa responded. She looked up at him. “I am ever so grateful for your tutelage, Sir Walter. I think you are most kind.” This was better than the archery butts, she considered.
    “Nay,my dear, ’tis nothing at all,” he told her. Her fragrance was delightful.
    Philippa had seen the lust in his eyes. What a fool, she thought, but Millicent will take him most firmly in hand, and his life will be hell. He deserved it. Most men did. “It doesn’t look really hard,” she said, looking up at him with limpid eyes.
    “Nay, it isn’t at all,” Sir Walter assured her. He was simply unable to take his eyes off of her breasts. The girl he was to wed, Millicent Langholme, had hardly any breasts at all. And she didn’t smell as nice as did Philippa Meredith at all. But she was a good match for him, and he knew it. Her blood was nobler than his, and she was an only child. In all likelihood he could arrange for her father’s baronetcy to pass to him when the old man died one day. Yes, Millicent Langholme was the perfect match for him, but Philippa Meredith was ripe for seduction, and she was such a trusting little country lass. His arm tightened about her supple waist.
    Philippa stiffened, and suddenly pulled away from Sir Walter. “Perhaps I should not gamble,” she said. “I really have not the means for it.”
    “A wise decision,” Tony Deane said. What mischief was Philippa up to, he wondered? He had never known her to act like such a silly flibbertigibbet.
    “I had best rejoin the queen,” Philippa said breathlessly.
    “If you have decided not to dice,” Sir Walter purred, “then walk with me by the river, Mistress Philippa. The water is lovely with the reflected sunset.”
    “But will that not cause gossip, sir? You are said to be betrothed to Millicent Langholme,” Philippa murmured.
    “There is nothing settled yet, Mistress Philippa,” he assured her. “And ’tis no more than a walk in plain view of all the court.”
    “Oh, I am not sure,” Philippa wavered. “I would