“A quick tumble?” he suggested. She broke out in a cold sweat. “Eden?” Roland swore and disappeared a moment, when he reappeared, he shoved a basin at her chest.
She pushed it away. “I’m not going to be sick,” she uttered faintly, and lifted her head to stare at him, as the horrifying realization set in that he was probably far more of a victim in all this than she was. Should she confess her deepest fears that she was likely to blame?
“You’re sure?” Roland asked her doubtfully. “You look sick as a dog.”
Eden folded back against the pillows, exhausted by her own bitter self-recriminations. She nodded her head distractedly.
“Why are you staring like that?” Roland asked her, as he replaced the basin on the stand. “Like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m flesh and blood, I assure you.”
And muscle, thought Eden gazing at him despairingly. Lots and lots of muscle. She wished he’d put some clothes back on. “I suppose it’s just starting to sink in,” she said, feeling oddly disconnected from events. “That we’re well and truly… married.” She whispered the offending word as if it was a profanity.
Roland shot her a quizzical look. “Not the fastest on your feet, are you?” he asked, sliding back into the bed, but mercifully sticking to his own side.
Eden lay brooding over this. “Are you saying you’ve adjusted already?” she asked a little testily. She found that quite difficult to believe somehow.
“Men are better at reacting to circumstances,” he boasted with an arrogance that came near to banishing Eden’s nagging guilt. “And you’re the one who said it need not change things overmuch,” he reminded her. “Anyway, what’s the point in lamenting over it? What’s done is done.”
And then she was back to feeling guilty again. He really was facing up to this with a lot more equanimity than she would have done if she was the injured party. Of course, that would all change if he knew she was the cause of their disgrace and downfall.
“Go back to sleep,” he told her with a yawn. “There’s about five hours till dawn. We’ll decide what course of action to take then.”
“Very well,” she murmured, closing her eyes. Strange to say, she thought she probably would sleep now. Not that awful dark sleep that engulfed and dragged you under like a frightening wave. But a more refreshing, natural sleep this time. She would feel better in the morning, she told herself. And more able to cope with this awful turn of events. After all, she could hardly feel any less.
**
Roland awoke to the sensation of sunlight on his face. The birds were singing outside the window, and he was feeling languorous and well rested. For once, he wasn’t a mass of aching limbs and muscles. Slowly, he became conscious of a warm body tucked into his side. A warm body that curled into his, in slumber. His eyes flickered open and he gazed down at the dark head resting on his stomach. Eden was a cuddler. He had no idea why that amused him so much. Maybe because her personality was so prickly and aloof. One of her arms was wrapped around his hip. He could feel her breath against his belly button. It was strangely stimulating. That could be an issue, he thought, feeling a stirring in his loins. No doubt his bride would not appreciate such a rude awakening as his hard cock in her face. More’s the pity. He sighed, trying to get his rampaging urges under control. At least there would be no breaking down of doors this morning, he thought, remembering the previous with a frown. That day too had started this same delightful way, to him waking with a sleepy Eden on top of him. She had not been so frosty when she first awoke, as he recalled. At least, she had not recoiled from him until their kinsmen had appeared in the doorway, blustering and posturing. He lay contemplating the fact, when suddenly she lifted her head and gazed blearily up at him.
He cleared his throat. “Morning.”
Eden dropped her head, then seemed to realize what her pillow comprised of. His body. She drew back in alarm and blinked at him.
“Remember?” he prompted her confused face.
To his irritation, she rolled over, showing her back to him. Well, good morning to you too! After a moment’s pause, she craned her head back at him over her shoulder.
“Still here,” he said wryly.
At that, she huffed out a breath and sat up. Roland let his eyes wander over her disheveled state. She looked good all mussed up. Frankly, he wouldn’t mind being the cause of such disarray. She rubbed her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the mattress.
He watched as she opened the casement window and threw the water from the basin out before refilling it from the jug. Every move she made was graceful and decisive. She washed her face and hands and dried herself off with a cloth, before turning back to him. “Do you have such a thing as a comb?” she asked.
Roland nodded toward his pack. “Help yourself.”
She balked a bit at going through his things, but when he simply placed both hands behind his head and stretched out on the bed, seemed to realize he wasn’t going to get it for her. “Where should I look?” she asked, unfastening the cords with nimble fingers.
“I’m not very tidy when it comes to packing,” he admitted as she flung open the lid and winced, casting him a reproachful look.
“I did warn you,” he smirked.
She peered inside. “Is it wood or bone?” She lifted out a pen-knife and discarded it, then a dice-cup, followed by a pack of cards. “Ah, here ‘tis.” She turned it over in her hands before sitting in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair and loosening her hair braid.
He guessed she did not want to sit on the bed and pulled a face. His stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry,” he commented and supposed he must be feeling much improved.
Eden glanced over at the table by the window. “There’s the bread and cheese the servants left last night.”
Roland eyed it with disfavor. “It looks stale.” He rose from the bed and walked over to pick up a hunk of the bread. It was hard as a rock. “It must have been stale when they brought it in,” he said with disgust and crossed to the basin to wash.
Eden did not respond. Her hair was now a black shining veil down to her waist almost. He tried not to stare, but in truth he found it hard to tear his eyes away from her. She was too pale and slim to be comely, but for whatever reason, she pleased his eye this morn. Elegant. It was never a word he thought he’d use to describe a woman, but that was the only one that fitted her. She sat in only her shift, in a common tavern chamber, and still managed to look like a queen. Her eyes were a deep royal blue. How had he never noticed the color before? He wanted to object when she started to neatly braid her hair again, but managed to still his tongue. Instead he looked about him for his clothes and set about getting dressed. He’d almost forgotten Oswald’s letter, when he noticed it out of the corner of his eye. When he’d fastened his tunic, he walked over to the window and perused its contents, turning his back as Eden donned her black gown.
Dear Roland, Oswald had written.
Hopefully this letter finds you mostly recovered from the after effects of your nuptials. Few know so well as I, the unpleasant repercussions that have to be endured before one is restored to full health. After some deliberation, I believe it would be better if you allowed me to prepare the ground for you at court for a month or so before you and Eden return. By that time the talk of your marriage should have died down somewhat. You can also be assured that I will do my best to reconcile the King and Queen to your unsanctioned union.
I can put it about that you have taken Eden on a tour – perhaps to compete in a tourney or two along the way and display your prowess in the field to your bride. You might even decide to journey as far as Vawdrey Keep, to show Eden the property she is now mistress of by rights. I am sure you know best how to conduct yourself in a manner that your new wife will find agreeable.
I remain, as always, your affectionate brother
Oswald
Roland’s eyebrows shot up as he read the letter through twice and then passed it wordlessly to Eden, who had finished dressing. He watche
d her gaze travel over the page. Her eyes widened and then grew thoughtful as she neared the end of the missive.
“Perhaps your brother is right,” she sighed, as she passed it back to him. “These scandals are usually only a three-day wonder, after all.”
He murmured some agreement as his mind ticked over. There was a tournament close by that he had meant to attend once the betrothal feast was over with. It was being held at Sir Aubron Payne’s estate in nearby Tranton Vale. He had his armor and weaponry, provided Oswald had not taken any of it back with him to court. Somehow he doubted that his brother had taken such a mis-step, after suggesting as much in his letter. In any event, he could check with Cuthbert after they had broken their fast. “Shall we venture below stairs and see if we can find some repast?” he suggested absently, and held his hand out to her. Eden looked a little flushed as she took it, and he led their way out of the room and down the stairs in search of food and his squire.
**
Eden started her third piece of toasted bread with a slightly self-conscious air. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was. Glancing at Roland wolfing down his second plate of roasted fish, she comforted herself she was not the only one suddenly ravenous.
“Regaining your strength, like as not,” commented the landlord’s wife with satisfaction as she tucked her hands behind her apron. “Millie, bring another dish out for these gentlefolk,” she bellowed in the direction of the kitchen. “Starting to get a bit concerned about you, we was,” she confided, with a shake of her head. “I mean, we knew you was newlyweds, but there’s overdoing a thing you know.” Eden shot a startled glance at Roland who looked as blank as she felt. “Depend upon it”, I says to my man. “Poor little maid will be as wan as a bowl of curds by the time he lets out of that there bedchamber!”” Roland’s mouthful of cod was suddenly choking him and the good lady thumped him obligingly on his back. “Better sir?” she asked solicitously. “You needs to learn to control your appetites,” she said with a sly wink at Eden. “I’m sure your good lady wife will agree to that.”
Eden sat up very straight. “Quite,” she said in a stifled tone, unsure how else to stem the tide of the woman’s words.
“There now, don’t take on, that squire o’your’n explained how it was to us,” said the landlady cheerfully. “How mad the young sir was for you, that he wouldn’t rest until he’d stolen you out from under your uncle’s hand. Even if it meant he had to ruin you first.”
Now it was Eden’s turn to nearly choke. Her eyes watered as she swallowed her dry mouthful of toast.
“Cuthbert told you that, did he?” asked Roland grimly. “What an obliging lad he is.” His head turned sharply as sound of a whistled tune growing closer. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.
This must be Cuthbert, thought Eden, who had only the vaguest impression of Roland’s squire. He was a good-looking youth, she thought, though clearly not a Vawdrey with that head of golden hair and clear blue eyes.
“Good morrow”, he grinned, sauntering up to their table. “Risen finally, have we?” He gave a bow, that was more of a nod in Eden’s direction.
Roland glanced at the window in surprise. “The hour is surely not more advanced than eight,” he frowned.
Cuthbert cleared his throat. “Aye, true enough, but you’ve missed a full day and a night in entirety.”
“What’s that?” Roland asked thunderstruck.
“Today’s Wednesday,” said Cuthbert. “And the pair of you took to your bedchamber on Monday e’en.”
Eden’s eyes widened in astonishment. She had been unwell, and exhausted from grief and guilt which might account for her deep sleep, but all Roland Vawdrey had by way of excuse was a sore head from too much wine.
“Well,” Roland said after a moment’s pause. “I’d better settle the bill.”
“Nay, good sir, for his lordship paid that. Your kinsman. The one who spoke so fair,” beamed the landlady.
“Oswald,” said Roland hollowly. “But surely he only paid for the one night?”
She shook her head so hard her chubby cheeks wobbled. “No indeed,” she replied. “He said as you’d be with us at least two nights, before you’d be ready to leave.”
“Did he, by gods?” He turned to Cuthbert. “You have all my armor still? My brothers did not take it with them to Caer-Lyoness?”
Cuthbert shook his head. “It’s all here.” He looked from one of them to the other. “Are we bound for Tranton Vale?”
Roland looked at her. Eden shrugged helplessly. “Aye,” he said. “We are.”
**
When Roland had said that Tranton Vale was in the locality, it was still a good four hours hence. Oswald had kindly purchased her a horse from the inn, so she now had her own steed, a rather nice sandy colored mare she had promptly named Christobel. They rested the horses at the mid-way point and Eden sat on a felled tree trunk, worrying about Lenora and if her cousin despised her now and blamed her for stealing her bridegroom. I need to marry well and fast, Lenora had said. Who would she wed now that Eden had stolen her husband of choice? So deep in thought was she, that she almost jumped when Roland sat down beside her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured.
Eden doubted he’d care for them. She glanced over at where Cuthbert was tending the horses. “When we reach your friend, the host’s, place…” she started hesitantly.
“Sir Aubron Payne’s,” he supplied.
“I do not think I’ve ever met him.”
He winced, “He’s not really what you’d call a courtier.”
“I see.” She mulled this over, guessing the tournament crowd were not going to be her usual kind of people. The only tourneys she had attended had been very few and far between, and they had always been royal tournaments either held at the winter or summer court.
“What were you going to say?” Roland prompted her. His eyes looked a little wary.
“How are we going to approach this?” Eden asked him forthrightly. “I mean, are we going to admit that we were forced to marry or…?” her words trailed off.
“We don’t have to say that,” Roland said after a heavy pause.
“What other reason would we have?” she asked, turning to him doubtfully.
“We could say that you were madly in love with me,” answered Roland with an audacity that took her breath away.
Eden nearly choked on her own tongue. “No-one would believe that for an instant!” she replied more shrilly than she’d intended.
“We could say you came to me, confessed your ardor, and I took pity on you.”
Eden felt her color ebb away. “I see.” She said stiffly.
Roland Vawdrey lolled back on the log, stretching his long legs before him. “Or maybe I could say I wanted another taste of that pert mouth of yours.”
Eden sat up even straighter, staring fixedly ahead of her. “If you do not mean to take this seriously, then I see no point in continuing this conversation.”
“Everyone could tell I enjoyed your kiss on Solstice Eve,” he said calmly.
Eden’s color flowed back. “You kissed me,” she pointed out, wishing she didn’t sound quite so petty.
“Maybe we should try it again.”
“I thank you, but no. I have no desire for your pity, or your kisses.”
He was silent a moment. “Has no-one ever teased you, Eden?” he asked.
Thrown, she turned to look at him. “Is that what you’re doing?”
He pulled a face. “I’m attempting it, but not getting very far.” She screwed her eyes up and tipped her head to one side. “Not even as a child?” he asked incredulously.
“I was a very serious little girl,” she answered briskly. And besides, she’d had duties. Running around fetching and carrying for her Aunty Gwenda. Keeping Lenora amused.
He frowned at her. “You can tell you haven’t any brothers,” he said at last, his answer surprising her.
“I have a cousin, Kit,” she said. “He will inherit
Hallam Hall on my uncle’s death. But he is somewhat younger than myself and Lenora. We did not see much of him growing up.”
He made no comment on that, but instead stared into the distance. Eden turned her own attention back to the view and they sat side by side, in almost companionable silence for a few minutes.
In the end Roland spoke again. “We’ll just tell them I had a change of heart,” he said abruptly.
Eden started. “What?”
But he was already coming to his feet. He held his hand out to her, and without thinking, she took it and he pulled her to her feet. Holding it fast, he drew it through the crook of his arm and led her back toward the horses.
Eden pondered his words uneasily for the next stretch of the journey. If he meant to tell everyone he’d simply decided on her instead of Lenora, then it was vastly unlikely anyone would believe it. For starters, her cousin was dazzlingly beautiful. Quite apart from that, she was also the heiress to a considerable private fortune. As for herself, she was neither an heiress or a beauty and possessed nothing that would have caught a man like Roland Vawdrey’s eye. Eden knew she had her good points, but none of them would have served to tempt a man like the King’s champion. He had no interest in the arts, or ingratiating himself in intellectual circles. When she had thought of marriage in some distant, hazy future, she had imagined her husband as a diplomat or polished courtier who might attend the Queen as she did. Not as the King’s champion, who earned his gold through brawling with other knights. She huffed out a sigh, before noticing that Roland’s squire was watching her curiously. “Cuthbert, isn’t it?” she asked, pulling herself together.
“Aye milady.” He drew his horse on a level to hers.
“Have you been Roland’s squire long?”
“Only for a six-month,” he answered. “Before that I was his brother’s squire. And before that, the Duchess of Cadwallader’s page.”
“The Lady Linnet?” asked Eden in surprise. “So, you are acquainted with all the Vawdrey family, then?”
An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3) Page 6