She gave a soft snore and he smiled.
Epilogue
2 weeks later, Cadwallader Castle
Linnet hung onto Mason’s arm as the acrobats all dressed in black and yellow formed their pyramid. She gasped along with the rest of the crowd as the uppermost fellow teetered and pulled expressions of terror on his rubbery face.
“Mason..” she started, tugging on his sleeve.
“He’s not going to fall, my love,” he sighed patting her hand.
“But he looks awfully precarious,” she pointed out. “The poor man doesn’t seem to have the slightest head for heights.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “Just wait…”
“I really think we’re going to have to intervene…”
Suddenly the accompanying musician ceased beating on his small drum and the acrobat promptly righted himself, drew three yellow balls from his baggy silk trews and started juggling whilst whistling a nonchalant tune.
“You see, he’s fine,” said Mason indulgently.
The audience erupted into gales of laughter and Linnet let out a sigh of relief.
“Now this is the best tent yet,” said Cuthbert with satisfaction as he tucked into another sticky piece of marchpane.
Linnet looked around for his grandmother. “Where’s Mother Ames?” she asked. “She was here a minute ago.”
“She’s in the ale tent with Mrs Wickers,” shrugged Cuthbert. Everyone had pronounced Mrs Wickers specially made commemorative Cadwallader honey ale as excellent.
“Oh is she helping out?” asked Linnet. “It was very busy in there.”
“Not her – she’s playing cards with the fool,” said Cuthbert. “He’s quite skilled at cards,” he said. “You wouldn’t think he would be, would you?”
“Funny that,” said commented Mason dryly. “But I wouldn’t recommend any of the locals to play cards with this lot. I suspect your grandmother will be alright though.”
“Oh she’ll be alright,” agreed Cuthbert. “When I last saw her she’d won his bells and his floppy hat.”
Mason who’d spent all morning avoiding being hit with the fool’s inflated bladder on a stick looked heartened by this news.
Cecil Robards appeared briefly in the tent entrance looking harassed. He scanned the crowd and then hurried over.
“Has anyone seen the lute player, my lord, my lady?” he asked distractedly. “The musicians were supposed to start in the red tent directly and only half of them are assembled!”
“I’m afraid not,” said Linnet. “Oh dear, I don’t think Robards is enjoying himself,” she said guiltily as he beat a hasty retreat.
“We’ll give him a holiday when it’s all over,” said Mason.
“That’s a good idea,” Linnet beamed at him.
He slipped an arm about her waist and kissed her cheek. “Feeling alright?” he murmured. Linnet’s morning sickness had not abated one bit in the two weeks that had passed but mercifully after she’d been up and about for an hour or so it passed.
She nodded and leant into him, wrapping her arms about his waist. “Mother Ames suggested I try some of the gingerbread. Apparently it’s very good for queasiness.”
Mason looked over at the trays of sweetmeats and candied fruits uncertainly. “Do you want me to fetch you some?”
She shook her head. “I feel fine now.”
“Good,” he said and kissed the top of her head.
“I sent Oswald off to give Enid a tour of the grounds,” said Linnet with self-satisfaction. “Did they not make a handsome pair?” She cast a sidelong look at her husband.
“I didn’t notice,” he replied aggravatingly. “Stop plotting. You’ve enough to occupy yourself madam-wife, without adding matchmaking to your list.”
Linnet opened her mouth to protest but was cut off.
“Cuddling,” said a loud voice with disgust. “I might have known it!”
Linnet had to turn her head as Mason made not even the smallest effort to release her. It was her father-in-law, with a tankard of ale. “Good brew this,” he commented. “Pleasant aftertaste.”
“We’re so glad you approve, Father,” said Linnet warmly. “I shall pass your comments onto Mrs Wickers.”
“Aye, you do that. Or mebbe I’ll tell her myself,” he added thoughtfully.
“Oh there’s Roland,” said Linnet as her youngest brother in law sauntered past the tent escorting a dark young woman on his arm.
“Who’s that he’s with?” asked Baron Vawdrey in astonishment.
“Oh that?” asked Linnet so casually that Mason’s head turned to look at her in sudden suspicion. “That’s just our neighbor Lord Lascombe’s eldest daughter, Iris. Pretty isn’t she? And she plays the harp beautifully.”
“And just when did you find time to introduce them?” asked Mason. “I’ve barely taken my eyes off you all morning.”
Linnet patted him reassuringly on the arm. “There’s always time to introduce friends and neighbors,” she said. “Besides, you were distracted giving Sir Lang the news about the King’s wedding present to us.” King Wymer had promised to send a special order discharging the forty-eight Cadwallader soldiers back home directly and they were expected any day now. “Wouldn’t it be perfect if they showed up today and were able to join in the festivities,” sighed Linnet.
“Robards would probably expire on the spot,” observed Mason dryly. The castle steward’s hair had grown even thinner in the last three weeks since they’d gone. “”He’ll be heartily glad when today is over with!”
“Shall we move on to the next tent?” asked Linnet. “We still haven’t seen the ballad singers."
Mason nodded. Baron Vawdrey had already wandered off in search of Mrs Wickers and Cuthbert was loth to leave the acrobats so they left him, now crunching his way through a handful of sugared almonds.
"If he gets a stomach ache," said Mason, "I expect his grandmother can cure it."
"I think Robards said the musicians were in the red tent," said Linnet scanning the field full of fluttering striped canopies. Her heart swelled at the sight. All their tenants and vassals were strolling around, joining in the festivities and vastly enjoying themselves. It was just as she had imagined it would be all those weeks ago when she'd been deceived. All felt right with her world. Now whenever she caught someone's eye they were happy to greet her with a smile and bob a curtsey or sketch a bow. She nodded and smiled at Rolfe who was walking out with Nan the maid. Mrs Perkins the housekeeper was wearing her fine new cloak with pride despite the fine weather. The gossip from the royal court had reached as far even as the Summerlands and everyone seemed to know of the happenings at the royal court and how Mason had chosen her over title and fortune. Apparently even bards were singing of it! Lady Sybil Jauncey and the rest of their neighbors in the county had been falling over themselves to befriend the queen's new favorite lady-in-waiting. It was well known that the Jevons' had fled to some obscure corner of the kingdom to live in retirement. The castle servants had heard everything first-hand from Gertie and Cuthbert whose stories of Caer-Lyonnes were much in demand. Nan was determined that she would be the one to accompany her mistress next time and Gertie was giving her specialized 'court training'.
Linnet caught sight of Gertie now who was arm-in-arm with Diggory the groom. They waved before disappearing into an orange tent which contained the pig roast that Johnny Wickers and the rest of the staff from The Bear were serving so the kitchen staff could also enjoy the day's celebrations.
"They're raising the banns tomorrow in the village church," Linnet told Mason. "I hope you don't mind but I told Gertie we'd attend in the family pew."
"There's a Cadwallader pew?" asked Mason. After all, the castle had its own private chapel. They had, had their wedding vows blessed there that very morning.
"Oh yes, it's carved with leopard heads and everything apparently. It'll be my first time seeing it too. Apparently my great-grandfather commissioned it."
"Which reminds me," said Mason comin
g to a halt. He reached into his pocket. "I have something for you." Linnet sent him a bewildered look as he took her left hand and slipped the cracked panther ring from her finger. In it's place he slid a much snugger fitting and ring. Linnet watched as he placed the small Vawdrey crest ring back onto his smallest finger. He winked at her. "This one will always remind me of you now," he said.
Linnet gazed down at the round blue onyx signet ring on her third finger. It was set in gold and very solid. On the left side was a leopard rampant, the sigil of the Cadwalladers and on the right the Vawdrey panther reared up to meet it in perfect symmetry commemorating their union.
"You won't be in any danger of losing that one," he said when words completely failed her.
"Oh Mason, it's beautiful," she whispered. "When did you-?"
"At Caer-Lyonnes," he pre-empted her. "There's a royally appointed jeweler there. He promised to have it ready in time for our wedding feast."
"I love it," she said, swallowing past a lump in her throat. She reached for her chateleine. "I have something for you also," she said unclipping a large antique gold seal ring. She passed it to him. "It was my grandfather's. Now you're the Duke of Cadwallader you can use it for sealing your letters and authorizing things..." She watched as he turned it over, examining the molding which would leave the leopard crest on any wax seal. "I'm afraid it's rather unwieldy, my father always wore it on a chain..." she broke off as he slid it onto a finger where it looked perfectly at home. "He was a lot smaller man than you," she acknowledged with a small laugh.
"Thank you," he said, gently pulling her forward. He placed a hand on her still-flat belly. She knew it wasn't just the ring he was thanking her for. "It looks like it was made for you," she said looking down and tracing the engraving with her finger.
"You were made for me, Lady Vawdrey," he corrected her.
"I was," she agreed placing her hand on top of his. "And to think it was three months ago to a day that you came riding up to my castle gates," she sighed and leant into him. "My unwitting bridegroom."
His arms came around her at once. "And to think," he echoed lightly. "I thought it just an irritating errand. Little did I know my destiny was waiting here for me." He tipped her face up and gazed down at her a moment before kissing her lingeringly on the lips. When he drew back he was frowning. "Though when I remember now how boldly you propositioned me..." He shook his head. "I do not think our daughters will be meek."
"Daughters?" spluttered Linnet.
"Aye wife, daughters."
"I thought it was three sons you demanded of me?"
"Sons or daughters," he shrugged. "We'll raise them together and love them the same."
Linet blinked as her eyes became suspiciously wet. She raised her hand to touch his cheek. "Yes, we will," she agreed softly. He clasped her wrist a moment, holding her hand cradled to his jaw. Linnet dimly became aware of the fact they were drawing many curious gazes. She marvelled, not for the first time how comfortable Mason was to show his regard for her to all and sundry. It didn't seem to bother him one whit and made her happily anticipate what kind of father he would make.
"You're tired," said Mason firmly. "It's time for you to take your afternoon rest. "Then you'll be fresh for the feasting this evening."
"I suppose," agreed Linnet ruefully.
"You can hear the ballad singers then. They're engaged for the entire event."
"Oh really? All the entertainers?"
He nodded.
"Will we all fit in the Great Hall?"
"That's Robards' problem," said Mason callously. "Come along. Back to the castle."
Threading her arm through his, they made their way leisurely back toward their rooms.
The ancient arms of the Duke of Cadwallader fluttered in the breeze above the ramparts and Linnet watched it with satisfaction. She would ask the queen about getting the Vawdrey panther added to their crest at some point. After all, her name and the name of their children would be Vawdrey, even if the title was Cadwallader.
"Are you sure you want to accompany me?" she asked slightly anxiously as he followed her up the steps to their private chambers. "I think Sir Lang would have liked you to have stayed with the men for longer."
"We're not returning to court for two months at least, Linnet." he pointed out. "Plenty of time for me to become better acquainted with the men."
"True enough," she agreed as he shut the door firmly behind them.
He helped her step out of the beautiful blue silk dress that Mr Postner hade made for especially for the occasion and draped it over a chair as he stripped off his tunic. “Unbraid your hair, Linnet," he said as she stepped out of her slippers "It can't be comfortable to lie on." Which was true enough, but really they both knew he just liked to see it loose. She reached up to start removing the pins, as he climbed on the bed and lay back to watch her. Her rosy blush travelled down her neck and breasts as she tried to concentrate on untangling her hair fastenings and not the fact her husband was ogling her near-naked form in her see-through shift with every evidence of approval.
"Here," he patted the bed. "Come over here. I'll help you."
She perched on the edge of the bed before shuffling closer to him, turning her back and drawing her knees up to her chest so he could see the braided coronet up close. The minute his fingers touched her hair she dropped her chin to her collar bone and squeezed her eyes shut. She loved it when he touched her hair.
"Hold still," he said in a low voice and stretched his legs out either side of her so she was sat in the V of his thighs. He slid his fingertips into her hair, stroking her scalp as he slowly withdrew the silver pins until he had a pile of them on the mattress beside them. Then he untied the ribbons and added them to the pile, untwisted the braids, all in the same unhurried fashion until finally he was just running his fingers in circles over her head, her red-gold hair sweeping down in a long curtain to her middle back. “Beautiful,” he murmured and then drew her shift up over her head and lay her back against the mattress, looking down at her.
"Gertie will never have time to braid it all again before this evening," she told him with a small smile, her eyes drifting shut, she felt so relaxed.
"Good," he said. "Roll to the left, Linnet” he told her in a soft murmur. Linnet rolled onto her side and frowned up at him in confusion. He gave a satisfied smirk. “Hold it right there,” he told her. “And don’t move an inch.”
She squinted up at him as the sunlight from the window was now falling right across her and into her eyes. “What? Why?”
He ran the back of his hand across her bare buttocks. “I want freckles here,” he said distractedly.
Linnet gasped. “What?” she tried to sit up, but he leant forward to pin her with his body. “You’re moving,” he told her with a frown.
She gaped at him. “Well, yes! I don’t want any freckles there,” she protested hotly.
“Why? No-one will see them but me. And I like them.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her onto him so she was sat astride his hips. She could feel the sun again on her bare backside. She twisted round, “Mason! Are you deliberately trying to cultivate more freckles on my body?” she gasped in disbelief.
He grinned. “Yes.”
“Husband, you are mad, quite mad!”
“Hmmm, maybe” he agreed lazily. “Mad about my leopardesses spots. Kiss me Linnet.”
Linnet sighed happily. And did just that.
THE END
Her Bastard Bridegroom: A Medieval Romance Page 25