The previous Yule, Magnus had caught me trying to slip into his room and leave his present. Thinking he was out supervising the morning exercise, I’d walked on in and seen him hauling his breeches up over his naked arse. He’d turned to look at me, chest broad and just as naked as his arse had been. I’d panicked. I’d hurled his gift at him, and bolted. Last thing I saw was his astonished face as a pair of fine leather gaiters with shining buckles smacked him right in the mouth.
