An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3)

by Alice Coldbreath

  Eden raised her goblet to hide her discomfiture with this kind of talk. Was he trying to flatter her? “I doubt it,” she said without thinking. “I don’t think he has been as starved of female company as you suppose.”

  “What?” His brows knitted together in a frown.

  “At one point, before he decided I was otherworldly in origin, Baxter thought I might have been ‘one of Fulco’s slatterns’,” she admitted.

  Roland went off into a coughing fit. Eden was just wondering if she might need to thump him on the back, when the others returned with a dish of roasted birds stuffed with garlic, grapes and herbs. Roland poured himself another cup of ale and pulled himself together, although his eyes were still watering.

  Fulco excused himself before the final course, no doubt cowed by Roland’s beady eye on him, putting him off his food. Eden fancied the dogs received quite a lot of the meat, for all four of them crept closer as the meal progressed. She wondered at one point, if she was the only one not feeding them.

  Only Cuthbert seemed to enjoy the dessert, which was baked eggs with apple in a pastry shell. Eden ate a mouthful to satisfy Baxter’s absurd superstitions, and Roland pushed his around his plate a while before shoving it away from him. “Shall we?” he asked, standing abruptly as Cuthbert finally dropped his spoon, having consumed his third bowlful. Eden rose, and took the hand he offered, to find herself led the through the door into the adjoining sitting room where a fire blazed in the huge hearth.

  This room had also been dusted and cleaned, and the remaining two dogs dozed there by the hearth, including her old friend Parnell who rolled over onto his stomach and barked in greeting. She nodded in response, and looked about her. It was still a rather bleak and uninviting room in all. It needed curtains and wall hangings and cushions, thought Eden. In reds or blues to complement all the dark wood interior. Roland halted and looked around, seeming to deliberate which of the chairs looked the most comfortable. Eden eyed them doubtfully. They all looked equally uninviting. Apparently he came to the same conclusion, for he simply hooked his foot around the nearest and dragged it toward the fire. Then he dropped into it, with Eden sat squarely in his lap. She ought to protest, of course, but what was the point? Instead she looked sidelong at Roland, who was looking back steadily at her. “Yes, wicked faery?”” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Something to say?”

  Eden tilted her head to one side, and steeled herself. “Perhaps there are some matters we ought to discuss,” she said gravely. “Now we are no longer on the road.”

  Roland stirred uneasily beneath her. “Such as?”

  Even before she spoke, he could tell he would not like her chosen topic of conversation. Damn the woman. Could she not pick up on his mood? Now she was safely under his roof, all he wanted to do was cosset her. It was a strange impulse, which threw him a little in truth. Never before had he had such an inclination toward a woman. He wanted her to like his home. Their home. Her opinion of Vawdrey Keep, whose superiority to all other places had always been a matter of fact to him, strangely counted. She was accustomed to court life, and all its attendant luxuries, and Hallam Hall which was a country residence, not a harsh fortress. He wanted to know what things he had to add to the Keep, to make it acceptable to her as her new home. But he could tell from her expression that it wasn’t about home comforts that she wanted to speak now. He sighed. “Let’s hear it then.” Eden rose from his lap, and re-settled herself into the chair directly opposite him. He suffered this, although it irritated him.

  “Don’t you think it’s odd that we’ve never actually discussed what must have happened that night?” she asked, turning to him, her expression serious.

  Oh gods. Why now? Roland spread his hands wide. “What’s done is done. I see no point in crying over spilt milk.”

  “Spilt milk?” repeated Eden, her expression so blank that Roland immediately cast about for a turn of phrase she’d find more palatable. “Things didn’t turn out as intended,” he said carefully. “But what’s the point in cutting up rough about it after the deed is done?” A heavy silence greeted his words, and he rolled his eyes. “Quite frankly, I have no desire to discuss it now,” he said bluntly. “What would be the purpose?”

  “To clear the air perhaps?” she suggested gravely. “To try and promote some kind of understanding between us at this point.” She paused heavily. “It seems to me, that we are poised at a critical juncture. Would it not be best to clear up any confusion now?”

  Roland snorted. “I’m not laboring under any misunderstanding,” he said dismissively.

  Eden took a deep breath. “Really? What about the fact we clearly had not engaged in any… pre-marital relations?” she asked with a directness that took him aback. “Despite what everyone assumed. Ourselves included.” When he continued silent, she fixed him with a stern look. “You know as well as I, that I was still a virgin that night at Tranton Vale. Yet we’ve never discussed it.”

  Roland felt his face grow hot. “What of it?” he demanded.

  “So clearly, we were innocent of any wrong-doing that night at Hallam Hall!” she cried, losing her calm.

  Roland stiffened. “I was drunk,” he said bluntly. “I may not have breached your virginity, but we could still have done other things.”

  “What?” Eden looked startled.

  “We were both naked,” he pointed out. “When I woke up, my hands were all over you-”

  “I know that!” Eden interrupted him. “But still, we had not gone beyond the bounds of decency!” her face flamed.

  “Of course, we had Eden!” he replied scathingly. “You may have been intact, but we had slept in a naked embrace that was far from innocent on my behalf. Or had you forgotten my state when your uncle interrupted us?” he gestured to his crotch.

  Eden glared at him. “Why must you always be so crude?” she huffed. “Do you really mean to tell me, that you have no curiosity about how we ended up in such a predicament in the first place?”

  He shot her an incredulous look. “Eden,” he said with exasperation. “Let’s just drop the pretense, for once and all.”

  “What pretense?”

  “That you were as injured a party as I.” She went so still, he thought she must be holding her breath. Uneasily, he added, “I know full well the scheme would not have been of your devising.”

  Her eyes flickered to his face. “Scheme?” she repeated hollowly.

  He nodded, strangely reluctant to continue. “Aye.”

  “Pray say what you mean, Sir Roland,” she said so formally, that he felt slightly alarmed.

  “Why do I need to say it?” he asked. “It’s obvious enough.”

  She shook her head. “Not to me.”

  He sighed. “It was my bedchamber we woke up in, Eden.”

  “Yes,” she said, two hot spots of color appearing in her cheeks.

  “And so…?” he prompted. He waited, until the penny dropped. He did not have to wait long.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “You’re saying… You think… that I snuck along the corridor and let myself into your bedchamber. And then, while you were insensible, that I slipped under your covers. To entrap you.” She slumped in her seat a moment breathless and glassy-eyed. He said nothing. “But if not of my devising…?” she began hesitantly. “Then who is it you imagine was behind such a scheme?”

  “Your uncle of course,” he answered brusquely. “Probably thought a younger son wasn’t good enough for his only daughter.”

  She stared hard at that. “But an unwanted niece was? You really have thought this through,” she marveled. “Down to the last detail.” Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it. “When?” She asked harshly, making him jump. “When did you decide I was complicit?”

  “Eden…”

  “Before we consummated our marriage?” She asked. “Before you wore my colors on your arm at Sir Aubron’s tournament?”

  “Eden…”

  “No!” she said in a choked voice. “You wore m
y brooch, introduced me to your friends… You made me think… You pretended that you liked me. But all the time, you thought… you thought…”

  “Eden!” he started out of his chair toward her, but she jumped to her feet and ran to the door, wrenching it open.

  “If you come near me, right now,” she said shakily. “I will hate you forever.” He halted, seeing she was trembling all over and pale as chalk.

  Something turned over in his chest. “Don’t go near those steps!” he warned. “Not in that state.”

  “Don’t come near me, Roland Vawdrey,” she shook her head for emphasis. “I need you to leave me alone.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks now.

  For some reason, the sight of her tears incapacitated Roland. He felt like he couldn’t gather his wits. Where the fuck had this storm blown up out of nowhere? All was well with his world, just a short while ago! She had been sat in his lap as meek as a lamb. He was reeling. “I can’t,” he said with utter truthfulness, and was out of his seat and at her side before she’d managed to even take another step. “Eden-”

  She shoved at his chest with both her hands, trying to push him away from her. “No!” she said in an anguished voice.

  “I won’t touch you,” he promised. “Just let me accompany you upstairs.”

  She fell back at that. “I want to sleep in a different room to you,” she said woodenly.

  “Too bad,” he said harshly. “That’s a step too far.”

  “I won’t share a bed with someone who thinks I’m a thief!”

  “A thief?” he echoed in bewilderment. “Who the hells ever called you a thief? Not I.”

  Eden shook her head angrily. “You think I willfully stole you from Lenora!”

  He gave a crack of laughter at that, and all color leeched from her face. “Eden,” he said bending down so his face was close to hers. “I was never Lenora’s. And for all I know, she could have been in league with the plot. What do I know of her wishes?” Eden’s chest heaved indignantly, and she stared at him. “Besides, you’re not bedding down anywhere else,” he told her arrogantly. “I’m not complaining about you being in my bed, so why the hells should you?” Her expression went from devastated to outraged in a second. He must be losing his mind, because for some reason he could not fathom, that was a relief to him. “Now, let’s to bed.”

  Why the hells, he thought crossly as he rolled over in the bed, dutifully turning his back to wife, had he thought he could speak frankly with a woman? He should have known better. They didn’t like plain speech. Eden certainly didn’t, with her airs and her graces and her sheer bloody-mindedness. He listened carefully to her ragged breathing. Was she still crying?

  She’d even managed to twist things around so that she was the injured party, he thought with disbelief! Alright, so she was probably mortified that he knew she had climbed into his bed that night. But he had never complained about the substitution of bride, so why did they need to dwell on it now? After all, he was the one who had the wool pulled over his eyes. He was the one who had fallen prey to her uncle’s subterfuge. Had one word of reproach passed his lips? No! Even during their dispute just now, he had no desire to reproach or scold her for her part in the deception. Instead he had given her an excuse, intimated that she had just been a pawn in her uncle’s ambitions, much like him. She was Sir Leofric’s ward and dependent on his goodwill. Roland’s jaw tensed. For some reason, he didn’t like to think of Eden being at the mercy of her uncle’s schemes. And he certainly didn’t like to remember that she had been sent from her childhood home with only the clothes on her back.

  What had she called herself just now? An unwanted niece? He felt slightly sick remembering those words. But there had been worse. Her face, when she cried ‘You pretended that you liked me.’ Remembering that, made him catch his breath. Why the fuck had she looked so hurt when she said that? He forced himself to go back over her words in the dark. She’d extinguished the candle as soon as she’d climbed into the box bed and it was pitch black in there now. It had been the thought that he had worn her token, had shown her off to his friends and bedded her, all the while thinking she was a deceiver which had cut her to the quick. But he didn’t even care about the deception!

  He swore under his breath. Why was she making so much of it? Pride, stiff-necked pride, he told himself angrily. Her damn reputation. But deep down, he knew that more than her pride had been hurt by him bringing the whole mess out into the open. Hells. He half-wished he’d just played along and just lied. Yes, it is very odd how we neither of us have any recollection of how you ended up in my bed, sweetheart. Ah well, tis doubtful we’ll ever get to the bottom of the business now! It was contemptible to lie, just to please a woman, and such an idea would never even have entered his head before today. But perhaps if he had lied, he’d be lying in her embrace right now, and any tears she would be shedding would be of ecstasy, not misery. He tugged at his pillow, unable to get comfortable. The thought of her crying silently beside him was an oddly disturbing one. He almost turned over, to pull her into his arms, when he remembered, ‘if you come near me, right now, I will hate you forever’, and stopped dead in his tracks. That was more than disturbing. That was simply something that could not be allowed to happen. Ever. He closed his eyes again briefly and consigned himself to a night of broken, uneasy sleep.

  **

  Eden woke on a gasp. She’d been under water. She flailed a moment in confusion, still half-asleep, before she noticed half of her was pinned underneath a big male. Roland Vawdrey was lay across her lower body. His face was buried in her stomach, his arms wrapped around her waist. She blinked down at him in consternation a moment, before the memories of the previous evening set in.

  Roland Vawdrey must think himself married to a hysteric as well as a liar, she thought bleakly, after the tearful scene she subjected him to last night. She turned first hot then cold all over. What a contemptible mess. She felt heartily ashamed of her emotional outburst. What on earth had come over her? It just wasn’t like her to act in such a way. And really, she had no cause. Roland Vawdrey was not her friend. He was not her confidant. He was just someone that was trapped in this travesty of a marriage along with her.

  In reality, she should be relieved that he had realized it was all her fault, she thought resignedly. Because she must have done everything he had accused her of. The fact she had been asleep when she had done it made very little material difference. What astonished her the most was that he must have thought this of her all along. It was extraordinary. He must despise her, have thought her character the lowest of the low. Yet he had not shown any discernible anger or resentment toward her. He had not flung blame in her face even once. She was frankly astonished by how magnanimously he had acted toward her all this time. When you consider he believed himself to have been duped at the outset, it was nothing short of miraculous.

  Eden lay staring up at the plain wooden roof of the box-bed, feeling numb. This was to be her lot in life. Married to a man who thought her a schemer and a fraud. She closed her burning eyes again briefly. At least she had no tears left to cry. All would be well, she told herself firmly, once she managed to get back to court. Once back as part of the Queen’s inner circle, she would be back on firm ground again, and sure of her step. In the past, she had even had occasion previously to sleep on a truckle bed in the Queen’s dressing room. There may be no need for her return to her husband’s quarters at all, she thought perking up. He could hardly insist. Not when it was by royal appointment. Feeling him stir, she stiffened as he rubbed his brow against her stomach, then exhaled noisily. Was he awake?

  “It can’t be morning yet,” he groaned, his words tickling her skin. “I’ve barely slept a wink.”

  Eden held her tongue, wondering if she could slither out from under him, but his arms seemed to tighten on her, as if he’d heard her thoughts.

  “If you’re awake now,” she said coolly. “Perhaps you’ll permit me to rise.”

  He murmured somethin
g disparaging, that she couldn’t quite make out. “Back to this again, are we?” he asked, raising her head and looking up at her blearily. “As it’s your fault I’m so damnably tired, the least you can do is let me use you for a pillow.”

  “My fault?” Eden blurted, before she could stop herself. Was he saying he had trouble sleeping after their altercation?

  “Aye, yours wife!” he said belligerently. “Who else would be kicking at me, and trying to climb over me in the night?” Eden gasped. “You’re like a little eel, wriggling about.”

  Without thinking, she answered tightly, “I can’t control my impulses when I’m asleep.” Of course, she thought afterward, he was wholly unaware of the magnitude of what she’d just imparted.

  “You don’t need to tell me that!” Roland grumbled. “I’m thinking this box bed is a damned good idea for you. At least you can’t seem to find your way out of it.”

  There was something in that, she thought. “My sleep is only disturbed in times of … upset,” she said dismissively. “It’ll pass. Can you please let me up?” She felt him turn his head and lay his cheek against her stomach, but gave no other sign of having heard her request. She was just wondering how to insist, when he murmured.

  “This bed is too hard.”

  Eden sucked in a breath. “Personally, I think Cuthbert did an admirable job with the materials at hand. The mattress is fine.” She paused. “I fancy tis the choice of bedfellow that vexes you rather than the bedding.”

  He raised his head at that. “I’ve got no complaints on that score,” he said dismissively. “You can put that out of your head.”

  She gave a short laugh. “You can scarcely expect me to believe that.”

  His eyebrows rose, and his gaze narrowed. “And why the hells not?” he asked coolly.

  “Because of your opinion of me!” she huffed. “My gods, I am astonished that you even thought to bring me home with you. I wouldn’t have, in your position.”