Lenora lay stunned, her heart pounding as she realized that in her mind at least, she had been back in the crypt with the afflicted. Garman was hunched over her, his strong arms clasping her to him. “I’m awake,” she gasped. “I’m awake.”
He grunted, but did not release her, though his hold slackened. “Roll onto your side,” he growled. Lenora did so and at once found herself dragged back against his front. “Go back to sleep.”
Lenora lay a moment, wondering if she should try and put herself to rights. Her shift felt all tangled up around her legs and down one shoulder. She wasn’t sure she was decently covered. Then she dismissed the fact and closed her eyes. Garman’s big body was warm against her back and she felt herself relaxing in spite of herself.
“Sir Lionel didn’t want to run away with me,” she heard herself confess. “He mistook me for a…” words failed her. “Female of loose morals,” she said with dignity.
“What?”
She felt him stiffen behind her. “He pinched me on the backside,” Lenora admitted in a small voice. “And caught me about the waist.” Garman said nothing, but she heard him breathe out heavily. “You know how much I always disliked being pawed about and no-one ever dreamed of treating me with such familiarity as that. I was so shocked I screamed. Then Kit attacked him and all was pandemonium.” She heard his ragged breathing, and fancied he was silent from astonishment. “I think Cuthbert Ames lied out of some mistaken instinct to protect my dignity.”
To her astonishment, she heard Garman give a short laugh. “I’d give anything to have seen Emworth’s face when he discovered it was you.”
Lenora turned her head to try and peer at him, but it was too dark. “I was never so shocked in all my life,” she confessed in a rush. “I mean Sir Lionel Emworth! He was always so… proper. Once, he picked up one of my gloves I dropped coming out of the cathedral and he acted so reverently over it you’d have thought it was a holy relic!”
Again Garman uttered a short laugh. “Some men act differently, with different kinds of women,” he said dismissively, but Lenora’s attention was caught.
“Do you?” she asked and for some reason the answer was important to her. She tried to turn toward him, but his hand closed over her hip, holding her in place.
“I don’t think so,” he said after consideration. “Not as a rule.”
“No, I don’t think you would,” she said with relief. “I mean, I can’t imagine you would start acting all prim and proper just because a female was of the nobility, then set about pinching tavern wenches’ cheeks just because you can.”
Garman shifted behind her uncomfortably. “Well, obviously there are some differences,” he said.
“Yes,” Lenora conceded. “I can see there would be, but I don’t imagine you would be such a hypocrite as Sir Lionel.”
He was silent a moment. “You almost make me feel sorry for the poor bastard,” he said grudgingly.
“Sorry?” Lenora echoed indignantly. “I’ve very likely got a bruise!”
“You’d better not have,” he growled and she caught her breath as one hand slid around from her hip to her buttocks. “Where?” he asked roughly as his hand circled over her thin shift. “Here?”
She reached back and guided his hand over her left cheek. “Here,” she said and was glad the dark hid her blushes. His thumb lightly skimmed the spot.
“Does it hurt?”
Lenora hesitated. “A little.”
He swore under breath. “If the skin is marked, I’ll track him down and beat the living daylights out of him.”
She caught her breath. “You may find it hard to find him,” she admitted. “The quest we set him was ridiculously obscure. I daresay he’ll just ensconce himself in some remote tavern for the duration.” Her voice was scathing.
Garman gave a soft laugh again. “Tavern wench’s chins?”
“More likely buttocks,” Lenora corrected him sourly. Garman gave another startled laugh.
“I’m so relieved I didn’t marry him,” Lenora rambled on. “Imagine having the kind of husband who you can’t turn your back on for fear he’ll be pursuing serving wenches into dark corners!”
Garman’s hand closed possessively over her soft flesh. “If you had married him, you’d have soon been a widow,” he vowed.
“How do you mean?”
“I’d have tracked him down and murdered him. You’re mine, Lenora.”
She let out a hitched sigh. “Yes,” she agreed, even though this was pure nonsense. If she’d married Sir Lionel, they both knew Garman would have carried on utterly indifferent to her fate. He had barely been aware of Lady Lenora Montmayne.
“I’m in deadly earnest,” he insisted as though aware of her thoughts. His hand continued to shift lazily over her rounded backside.
“Hmm,” Lenora gave up, her eyes fluttering shut. “I daresay you would. I wouldn’t put anything past you.”
He crowded in closer to her, and Lenora felt something hard prodding insistently at her lower back. “Go to sleep,” he said needlessly, for she already had.
20
By tacit agreement, they went along to break their fast at the manor house the next morn. Garman watched her pin on the head-veils without comment, but before they left the tent, he made her raise her skirts so he could inspect her bare bottom in daylight for any sign of bruising.
“Hmm,” he said, dropping to his knees and brushing his knuckles over the swell of flesh.
“Is it bruised?” Lenora asked in a strangled voice, her face aflame.
“You have two purplish spots here and here,” he said, pressing finger and thumb to the site.
“Owch!” she winced.
“He must have pinched hard, curse him.”
“He did!” Lenora agreed hotly, then sighed. “But they do say that fleshy areas bruise more easily, and that is without doubt my most fleshy area. It is most vexing for—” Feeling his warm breath on her skin, her thoughts scattered. “Garman?” She felt him brush his lips over the tender spot. “Did you just—?” She turned her head.
“A kiss makes it better,” he said gravely and winked before rising to his feet. Lenora dropped her skirts and stared at him flabbergasted. He’d just kissed her backside!
“Come along,” he said, holding out a hand. Lenora placed hers in it and they made their way toward the ancestral home of the Kellingfords.
On the way, they passed several knights and squires, most of whom had a passing greeting to throw their way. Lenora answered them all, though Garman mostly gave curt nods only. She supposed he had spoken the truth about having no particular friends among their number and marveled at it.
“Do you suppose the Hainfroys ever will compete?” she asked curiously.
He shrugged. “Who knows. I hoped so at one time, but I doubt it now.”
“It might be nice for you to have some friends along, when you take part.”
He shot a look at her. “They’re competitive like me,” he said dryly. “I doubt they’d enjoy suffering a defeat at my hands.”
“Or you at theirs?”
“Even less.”
“So having friends at tournaments might be fraught with difficulties,” she pondered. “Perhaps it’s just as well that you have none.”
He smiled grimly and she remembered how much she had enjoyed his laughter the previous night. She would like to see his laugh by daylight, she thought rather wistfully.
“What is it?” His words jolted her out of her ruminations.
“‘Tis naught,” she said hurriedly. “I only hope we are not seated with the Lady Brigitte this morn. She’s so boisterous and has such a teasing nature.” He frowned at this, but otherwise made no comment on her sudden aversion to their host’s stepsister.
As they ate round white loaves and roasted fish at the long table, Lenora reminded him that Cuthbert was collecting her at ten o’clock to join her cousin at watching an event. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him in what field he was competing t
oday, but remembering his snub last time, she shied away from enquiring. Suddenly, it was imperative to her that he did not rebuff her as he had done the previous day.
By some miracle, they had managed to get things between them back on an even keel and she did not wish for a repeat of the hostilities that left her feeling surprisingly hurt. Instead she changed the subject and had him explain the strange crest of the Kellingfords which sprawled over the fireplace, a beast which was part eagle and part horse.
“Does Sir Roger have no heir to compete under their colors?”
“He has a couple of bastards,” Garman admitted grudgingly. “But their shields do not bear the hippogriff, only the bar sinister to show the circumstance of their birth.”
“What a shame,” Lenora replied. “The Kellingford family seems very convoluted.”
Garman nodded, buttering her another piece of bread. “His heir is a nephew through a half-sister and does not bear the Kellingford name. By all accounts, Sir Roger prizes his bastards above his heir, and petitions the King to legitimize his offspring.”
“Maybe he will,” Lenora murmured, taking the bread. “For his chief advisor, Earl Vawdrey, prizes his own brother for all he is bastard-born.”
“True enough,” Garman agreed without much interest.
Lenora glanced toward the high table, leaning in closer to Garman. “Which ones are his sons?” she asked in a low voice.
Garman placed another piece of fish on her plate. “The two lads sat at the far end of the table in blue tunics,” he said. “The one acts as squire to the other.”
Lenora looked at two tanned males with good-natured faces who were wolfing down their breakfasts with hearty appetites and untidy brown hair. One was still a boy of about thirteen, while the other was approaching manhood though not yet filled out. “Which one is the heir?” she asked.
“The one sat to Sir Roger’s left.”
Lenora turned her head and observed a colorless looking young man with an expression of distaste on his face as he prodded fretfully at his food. Lenora watched him snap his fingers for a servant and open his mouth to complain before catching his uncle’s eye and thinking better of it. Lenora pulled a face. “I don’t blame him for preferring his sons,” she said.
Garman nodded. “Chatton lacks spirit,” he agreed. “And does not even compete.”
Lenora let her eyes wander over the rest of the company in search of her relations as she waited for Garman to finish his second plateful. She soon spotted Eden sat with her husband, though not Kit who she suspected must have stayed out late enjoying his celebrated status after receiving his award the night before.
“I suggest you stop watching Vawdrey like that unless you want me to gut him in the next event.” Garman’s words were spoken low, but with such a sinister undertone that Lenora jumped.
Lenora turned her head, startled. “What??” She stared at him. For a moment, she had thought she had misheard him, but his grim expression put paid to that. “Why do you say that? I was just observing him with Eden, that’s all,” she explained. “I find the two of them together very entertaining.”
He looked at her narrowly, then glanced across to observe Roland whispering in Eden’s ear. Eden swatted him away with a reproachful word or two, for she was trying to politely listen to what the lady opposite was saying to her. Roland grinned and wound an arm around his wife’s waist. When Eden leaned subtly against him, Roland looked smug.
“What’s entertaining about it?” Garman demanded. “She’s a shrewish scold and he’s a damn fool to put up with it.”
Lenora bristled. “That’s my cousin you’re speaking of,” she reminded him with spirit. “And my favorite person in the world!”
His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Eden Vawdrey?” he repeated skeptically.
Lenora nodded. “She’s the best person I know!”
He was clearly surprised by this. “I wouldn’t have thought you had any common ground.”
“We were brought up together as girls and shared our childhood, like sisters.”
“Aye, but…” He let his words trail off.
“What?”
“You moved in vastly different circles at court,” he pointed out.
Lenora considered this. “You mean because she attended all the intellectual gatherings while I merely paraded my beauty?” Again, Garman looked taken aback, though it was plain that was what he had meant. “That doesn’t mean we haven’t always cared for each other deeply,” she told him sternly. “Eden was always trying to encourage me to improve myself with books and learning.”
He snorted. “I can well believe that.”
“While I did my best to ensure she made an advantageous marriage,” she carried on, ignoring his interruption. He made a noise of rude disbelief at this. “What?”
“By standing idly by while she ran off with your betrothed?” he asked scathingly.
“Oh, is that what I did?” asked Lenora sotto-voce. She smiled to herself. Only she knew that she had been instrumental in securing her cousin’s match with the youngest Vawdrey, a powerful family at court.
“Are you saying it isn’t?” Garman asked in a hard voice, his eyes on her face.
Lenora shrugged. “Oh, I’m saying nothing.” It wasn’t her secret to tell. Besides, all had turned out as it should. Eden and Roland were madly in love. “Roland Vawdrey was never my betrothed. I told that much to the Queen in front of a large audience. I wonder that you have never heard the tale.”
“I’ve better things to do than listen to a lot of damned court intrigue,” he said, pushing away his plate, his lip curling with contempt.
“Well then,” she said lightly. “I will not bore you with it now.” She could tell her words had not pleased him, but she could not let falsehoods pass about any rift between her and her cousin over Roland Vawdrey.
He escorted her back to the tent after the meal and again, it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him about his event, but she bit back her curiosity. When Cuthbert arrived to collect her, she bade Garman her cheeriest farewell and followed the youth across the field.
Cuthbert showed no embarrassment whatsoever over his conduct on the previous day. When Lenora informed him she had told Garman the truth of what had happened, he gave her a long speculative look. “The lie wasn’t for his sake, but for the company in general,” he said at last.
“You painted Sir Lionel in the role of would-be abductor!” she pointed out sternly.
Cuthbert looked unconcerned. “He’d likely prefer that to unprincipled philanderer,” he said with a shrug. “Unrequited love will fit well with the reputation he has cultivated of romantic swain.”
Lenora was privately struck by his shrewd reading of Sir Lionel’s character, but held her tongue while she considered how to reply. His next words shocked her rather.
“Have you considered yet how you will convince your husband to take on Kit as his squire?”
“Pardon?” Lenora faltered, almost coming to a stop.
“This way,” Cuthbert prompted her. “Roland competes in the melee.”
“Oh.” Lenora made a grab for one of her veils which was working its way loose. “What makes you think I was going to do any such thing?”
Cuthbert tapped two fingertips to his eyelids. “Second sight,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s usually pretty reliable so long as it does not concern my own fate.”
“Why does it not work about yourself?” Lenora asked. “That seems rather unfair.”
Cuthbert shrugged. “That’s how gifts work oftentimes,” he said. “It’s never troubled me overmuch. I always know my own mind and have little need for guidance.”
Lenora thought that was probably true. “You can see the fortunes of others?” she asked and marvelled that she was no longer eager to hear her own predicted.
“Sometimes.”
“And you see Kit working out as Garman’s squire?”
“He never got on well with Emworth,” Cuthbert continued, ignorin
g her question. “It’s hard to serve someone you little respect.”
“You think he would respect my husband?”
“Oh yes. And if he did not, he’d get a cuff round the ear, I’ll be bound,” Cuthbert said absently rubbing his own ear. Lenora found she could believe he’d received many a clout in his time.
By this point they had reached a wooden stand which had been erected with many steps leading up to elevated positions to look down on the field below. It looked a crude imitation of the ones you found at court to watch the royal tournament although it did not bear the attendant trappings of the royal boxes with their banners and pennants and matching page boys.
“My lady sits in the right-hand box,” Cuthbert said, gesturing for Lenora to precede him in mounting the steps.
Lenora glanced up and saw Eden waving to her. She hastened up the steps and when she’d reached the top, turned right and hurried to embrace her cousin.
“Lenora!” Eden stood up from her bench and made a sound between a laugh and a cry. “At last! I’ve been so worried.”
They clung to one another a moment, and then stood back to survey the other. Lenora noticed with interest that Eden was wearing a very pretty dress of royal blue with matching sapphires adorning her fingers and the bodice of her dress.
“You look very well, Eden,” she said with satisfaction.
Eden put her hands to her thickening waist a little self-consciously. “You notice the differences?”
Lenora nodded. “But only because you are usually so slender. Your brooch is beautiful.”
“Is it not?” Eden gestured for her to sit beside her. “Roland spoils me to a ridiculous degree. My jewelry box is overflowing these days.”
“It is nothing less than you deserve,” Lenora said warmly, taking her seat.
“Now tell me,” Eden said, turning toward her impulsively and grasping both her hands. “Is all well with you, cousin? I was never so shocked in all my life then when I heard you were here in the company of a new husband! And when I heard his identity…” Eden’s lips pressed together. “I could not imagine how it could have come about!”
“Could you not?” asked Lenora lightly. “Yet you must surely remember how much I enjoy the royal tournaments!” When Eden gave her no answering smile, she pressed on. “All is well, cousin, I assure you.” Noticing Eden looking at the veils she wore, she steeled herself for a request to see her face. However, she should have known her cousin better.
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 17