“What?” Roland turned in his saddle to squint at his brothers. “Where will you be?”
“We’ll carry on to Caer-Lyoness,” said Mason.
“We need to pave the way before your return, Roland,” said Oswald with a meaningful look. “Break the news at court. Smooth things over as it were with the King.” Roland blinked at him. “You’re his champion, after all,” Oswald reminded him. “It’s a courtesy to ask permission before marrying.” He glanced at Eden quickly and lowered his voice. “The Queen will also need appeasing.”
Roland frowned. “The deed is done,” he said. “What purpose is there to cutting up rough about it?”
Oswald waved a hand airily. “You know how royals are. As you say, it is mostly tokenistic, but you may have some forfeit or penance to perform before the Queen is reconciled to her favorite’s wedded state.”
Roland glanced down at Eden’s dark head, resting against his chest. She’d never dream of doing such a thing, unless she was in a deep slumber. “If there’s a price, I’ll pay it,” he said with casual indifference.
“Admirable,” responded Oswald briskly. “Now, let us get you settled into your own chamber forthwith. Once we’ve got you settled, we can go and spread the happy tidings.”
Roland peered at his brother suspiciously, but there wasn’t even an ironic inflection in his voice. You could tell Oswald was a leading courtier and powerful politician, damn his eyes. “What will you tell everyone?” he asked with sudden unease.
“That your affections were engaged elsewhere, and the plans were duly altered,” his brother replied swiftly.
Mason snorted. “We’d best get in fast, before that dolt Sir Christopher starts spreading his version.”
“That is my intention,” said Oswald dryly. “Never fear, we shall have Fenella and Linnet espouse Eden’s cause at court. They will be keen to admit their newest sister-in-law into their circle.”
“Fenella is not long out of the delivery bed,” Mason reminded him. “After bearing your twin sons.”
“Well, I was expecting Linnet to carry out the lion’s share of work at court,” admitted Oswald. “But Fenella is lately receiving guests at home. Lady Schaeffer visits with us almost daily. She is proving to be a most devoted godmother,” his tone was rather dry.
Mason laughed. “You needn’t sound so happy about it. Now you’ve children of your own, you’ll find it much harder to monopolize your wife’s attention. You’d best get used to it.”
“I don’t mind sharing her with my boys,” said Oswald. “But Hester Schaeffer always swore she detested children! Now I find her fawning over them at all hours!” Mason chuckled again. “Meldon’s even worse!” complained Oswald, about his aged manservant. “I caught him singing to them the other night. Singing!”
Roland found his eyes drifting shut as his brothers rambled on about domestic matters, involving their offspring.
“Roland!” He opened his eyes. “We’re here. Pass her down.” Mason had his arms reaching up for Eden, and begrudgingly, Roland eased her off the horse and into his brother’s grasp.
“Where’s Oswald?” Roland asked, dismounting and peering around, as Cuthbert led the horse toward the stables.
“Gone in ahead, to secure you a room.”
“Oh. Pass her to me,” he said, but Eden was already struggling to be put down. Mason set her on her feet and Roland passed an arm around her waist. She suffered this, but he noticed the faint color that spread to her cheeks. At least her pallor was improving.
They made their way toward the inn, and for Roland every step was an effort. He recognized Eden was not doing much better than him. She almost tripped on the threshold, but his arm steadied her. Oswald greeted them, directing them toward the stairs.
“One moment, sirs!” cried a concerned looking patron rushing forward. “But the lady is not ill, is she?”
“Ill?” repeated Oswald in seeming surprise. “No, no, my good man. These are newly-weds and only suffering from an excess of good spirits.”
The landlord peered at them doubtfully one after the other. “Your pardon, sirs,” he said after letting his eyes roam over their pale, tired faces. “Only I did hear,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s there’s summer plague in some parts.” He glanced nervously over his shoulder. “An honest businessman can’t be too careful.”
“Understood,” Oswald agreed genially and slapped him on the back. “But as you can see their countenances are completely unblemished.”
“Indeed, milord, indeed,” he said with a bow. “I can see that now.”
“What they desire from you, good sir, is some washing water for their travel dirt, some repast for their empty stomachs and the key to secure their room. We shall be leaving their squire to attend to their horses. No doubt, you can supply him with bed and board when he comes in.”
“Very good milord,” the landlord said, drawing a large key from his apron.
“Excellent.”
They trooped up the stairs, Roland practically hauling Eden at this point, and though the slight wench should have been light as air, she felt to Roland like a sack of grain at this point. Mason carried in his belongings, and Oswald swiftly unpacked for him as Roland set Eden down on the edge of the mattress. She looked a little green around the gills. It crossed his mind that she might imagine he was going to demand his conjugal rights, but nothing could be further from the truth at this point. He would be as harmless as a kitten in the bed beside her!
A chambermaid knocked on the door, and entered with a jug of water and a basin for washing. She left and another maid appeared with a trencher of bread and cheese which she set on the side, and then departed.
“Now,” said Oswald. “Let me hear you turn the key in the lock behind us,” he said, inserting it into the door. “This seems a respectable establishment, but you can be none too careful.”
Roland moved to the door and placed his forehead against it, as Mason and Oswald walked out onto the landing.
“I have left you directions on the side,” said Oswald nodding to a dresser by the window. Roland glanced at it in surprise. When the hells had his brother had time to write him a missive? “Don’t bother trying to read it now, you need to sleep. Twelve hours should do it. Maybe a little longer,” he added with a shrewd glance at Roland’s face.
Roland shrugged tiredly. He knew Oswald had always suffered after imbibing, but that seemed a little precise even for him. He yawned.
“Oh and congratulations,” said Oswald, squeezing his upper arm.
“Get some sleep,” recommended Mason, with a nod.
Their footsteps didn’t move away, until he’d closed the door and turned the key, locking them in. When he turned back, Eden was already curled up on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes closed. Was she cold? He couldn’t even muster the energy to undress, but instead flung himself down on the bed beside her, as sleep closed in and everything turned mercifully dark.
**
Eden woke suddenly, in the midst of a bad dream where she had been falling from a great height. Her heart was racing and her mouth dry. She lay blinking a moment as her senses returned. Everything seemed in confusion. As her eyes accustomed to the darkness, she realized the shadowy room was laid out all wrong. She could make out the great chest and the small table, but they were in the wrong place and where was the cupboard by the door? Feeling the breath of a companion on the back of her neck, she realized she must be sharing a room, with her cousin maybe? Of course, she was back at Hallam Hall! Then the body at her back shifted and muttered a smothered oath. The whole bed creaked. That was not her dainty cousin. The moon at the window slipped out from behind a cloud, and she saw the illuminated room in all its simplicity. Unpleasant memories crowded into her brain and with a feeling of dread, she turned her head and gazed on the sleeping face of Roland Vawdrey. Her husband. She felt nauseous. It hadn’t been a bad dream after all.
Panicked, she started to inch her way off the mattress, only to
find a brawny arm anchoring her to his side. His arm was wrapped her waist! Eden felt herself break into a sweat. It took every effort not to lose her composure altogether, as she levered his heavy arm off her. He muttered again in his sleep, and she held her breath. When he rolled onto his back, she slipped off the bed and crouched on her knees beside it until he quieted. Then she creeped over to the washstand and poured a trickle of water into the bowl, enough to wash her hands and face. The cool water felt good against her fevered brow. Her gown was all twisted and uncomfortable. It wasn’t meant for sleeping in, she thought ruefully, as she unlaced the front and then her wrists to facilitate washing. The moon was still high in the sky, she realized, glancing from the window. It would not yet be time to rise for several hours. She hesitated, biting her lip. Should she take it off? She glanced over at the bed. Roland Vawdrey was lying still, the rise and fall of his chest steady. He had one arm bent now and draped over his face. He would likely continue oblivious if she stripped down to her shift, and she would be a lot more comfortable. Making a swift decision, she loosened her laces further, until she could maneuver the dress up and over her body. With economical movements, she wriggled out of her gown, until she could drape it over a chair and then removed her stockings and add them to the pile. Returning to the bowl of water, she added some more and then washed her neck and armpits. Cloths had been left out for their use, though there were no soap leaves. She could find no comb on the shadowy dresser, so instead she quickly tidied her hair into one long braid over her shoulder. Then she turned back to gaze at the bed. Could she climb back in without disturbing its sleeping occupant? Apparently she hesitated too long.
“Come back to bed, for lord’s sake,” Roland grumbled. “If you need to take a piss, the pot’s likely under the bed.”
Eden stiffened. Did he imagine her some chambermaid to speak to her thusly?
When she didn’t move, he rose onto one elbow to scrutinize her. “Eden?”
“I thought you were asleep,” she blurted.
“Hardly,” he said. “You wriggle around in your sleep, like a worm on a hook.”
Eden felt her face redden. “I was having a nightmare,” she told him coldly. Would she have walked again if he had not anchored her? The thought made her break out in a sweat.
He made no reply, and the moon drifted behind a cloud again, plunging the room into darkness.
“You’ll take a chill,” he said gruffly. “Get under the covers.” He rolled onto his side, turning his back to her.
Eden approached the bed with reluctance. “Separate chambers would have been nice,” she muttered, as she slid under the sheets.
He snorted. “Bit late for that.”
“It’s never too late for niceties,” she corrected him, folding her arms around her waist. She lay still, staring up at the shadowy ceiling. Now they had spoken, she had a terrible fear she would not find sleep again.
He rolled onto his back, and Eden shrank back from the physical contact in alarm.
“Well, if you’re feeling so inclined,” he said. “I wouldn’t deny you.”
Eden stared at him, unable to make out his features. “What do you mean?”
“We are married,” he reminded her. “And you spoke of niceties,” he let his words sink in, as he patted the mattress. “We’re in the marriage bed…”
Eden breathed in a sharp breath. “That is not what I meant! And you know it!”
He gave a sigh, and to her alarm, the bed lurched. As she tensed, she realized Roland was climbing out.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” he said irritably.
The moon drifted again, and she saw he was still fully clothed too. Something he was swiftly remedying by stripping down to his own under garments.
Eden screwed her eyes shut in alarm, turning her head sharply.
“We were both naked as babes this morn,” he reminded her, obviously aware of her discomfort.
“Do not speak of it! Do not think of it, even!” she implored him.
He huffed out a breath, and she felt the blankets lift. Now he was climbing under the covers, she realized with horror. Eden lay rigid.
“Relax,” he told her. “You’re wholly resistible. I’m not about to force myself onto you.”
She took a deep breath. Of course. She fell far short of his standards regarding women. She expelled a relieved breath. “Are you going back to sleep?” she asked after a moment or two of tense silence.
“Why? What are you offering?”
“I just thought we should have some discussion,” said Eden, turning her face on the pillow to face him. The moon had appeared again, shining bright. Roland was alarmingly close. And his chest was bare. Eden tried not to stare at the smattering of dark hair on that muscular expanse of tanned skin. Even so, she was sure her eyes were wide.
“I’m listening,” his voice sounded a little thick. Maybe he was tired, she thought distractedly, though when her gaze darted to his, he looked alert enough. He propped himself up on one elbow.
She wished he wouldn’t do that. In an effort to be on the same level, she struggled into a seated position facing him. Noticing the direction of his gaze, she hurriedly pulled the blankets up and over her chest. Her shift was made of the very finest linen and was quite thin. Though why Roland Vawdrey should have any interest in her bosom was beyond her. She was quite sure it was nothing special. Still, it was practically in his face, she conceded. And everyone knew men were base creatures when it came to the flesh.
He looked away a little guiltily and cleared his throat. “Let’s hear it then,” he said huskily.
Eden eyed him suspiciously. It dawned on her that he was probably remembering that very morning when she had woken sprawled on top of him. His hands had been in such shameful places that she felt herself turn scarlet. “I want you to stop thinking about that, Roland Vawdrey!” she whispered primly.
“I told you, I can’t even remember it,” he retorted, sounding indignant.
“You remember where your hands were, I suppose,” she snapped. “When we awoke!”
His gaze darkened. “Aye,” he said hoarsely.
“Well…” said Eden lamely. She had thought he’d have the decency to deny it! “I want you to forget all about it!”
He snorted. “I’ll forget it alright. When you give me something better to remember, wife.”
Eden gasped. “Don’t call me that. Why are you making everything so hard?”
A strange look passed over his face. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said shifting about under the sheet. “Though I doubt very much you’d know the answer!” Eden regarded him suspiciously. He groaned. “Just say what you need to say, Eden.”
“Very well, I will,” she said with dignity. “What I have to say is this. We have, one way or another, ended up in this predicament.” She gulped and plucked at the bedsheet. When she looked back up, he was watching her closely, though he uttered not a word. “The only sensible thing we can do now is find a way to make this situation bearable, with as little disruption to our daily lives as possible.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Would you agree?”
He tipped his head to one side. “That doesn’t sound very realistic. There’s bound to be disruption.”
“Why? Think about it,” she urged him. “We both have so much to occupy our time already at court. Why need we let this… this fleeting lapse of judgement, ruin the lives we have so carefully carved out for ourselves?” He frowned. Before he could give voice to his disagreement, she placed a palm on his chest. “Think about it first, Sir Roland,” she said imploringly, though in truth, she wished she sounded slightly less breathless. His chest felt warm and naked. She pulled her hand back, but he had caught hold of it by the wrist before she could withdraw altogether.
“Just call me Roland,” he said in a rough voice. He closed his eyes briefly and cursed. When they fluttered open again, she was startled by the expression they held. Turning his face away with a
muttered oath, he released her hand and she quickly placed it on the mattress beside her, out of harm’s way.
Truly, men were slaves to their physical impulses, she marveled. Her proximity alone was enough for him to let his precious standards slip! “The fact remains,” said Eden a little squeakily. “That we need a strategy to tackle this…”
“Marriage?” supplied Roland gruffly.
“Peculiar set of circumstances,” Eden carried on painstakingly. “You must agree?”
“There’s bound to be a lot of talk,” he conceded. “However our families try to suppress it.”
Eden thought of court gossip and felt her stomach lurch. “Precisely.” She pursed her lips. “Did your brother tell you exactly how he intended to break the news to the King?” she asked wretchedly. “Only I wasn’t able to give him my full attention when he mentioned it earlier.”
“Well no, you were asleep in my lap,” Roland pointed out.
Eden glanced at him with annoyance. Manners were completely squandered on Sir Roland. Then another thought occurred to her. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd,” she said with a frown. “How we’re both unable to recall the events of last night?”
“Well you at least remembered something,” he said sounding resentful.
“Yes, but… nothing substantial. Like how we ended up-”
“In bed together?”
“That predicament,” Eden persisted doggedly. “I mean, it’s so unfathomable!” Her thoughts shied away from her suspicions of sleep-walking into his bed. The idea it could all be her fault made her feel profoundly unwell. Oh gods, he had said she was wriggling around her sleep…
Roland snorted. “It’s not that unusual,” he objected.
“To you maybe!” Eden wheezed. “What lady would be fool enough to sacrifice her good name for… for…” words failed her, as she faced up to the fact this was all her fault.
An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3) Page 5