TWENTY-EIGHT
There were a dozen days and nights of Yule, and Bernard made Ursula a gift of every one. Despite her pleas for more, they had not even reached a hundred ways, for she kept asking for the same ones again, and he was only too happy to oblige her.
He'd never wanted a wife, never wanted to be forced to share a bed with anyone, ever again, but Ursula could confine him to her bed for the rest of his life and he'd spend every day happy. There was a joy in her he couldn't resist, and he didn't want to. Between her golden hair and golden-brown eyes, her skin glowing gold in the firelight, the name of Goldilocks had stuck.
On the twelfth night, he watched her brush her hair, a mane of curls that stretched halfway down her back, before she slipped out of her clothes and joined him i
