“Or Purcel treated cruelly by that slovenly servant of theirs?” he suggested. “You need not worry, for she’s run away after some harsh words from Ivo. They are currently having to shift for themselves.”
Lenora’s eyes widened. “So, they have no servant at all?”
“The place must be quite at sixes and sevens with two bachelors running it,” Gerard hazarded. “It is quite a large property from what I recall.”
“It’s in a state of complete and utter chaos,” Garman agreed. “Except for the stables of course. That’s all Huw and Ivo care about at any rate.” He paused. “They were fools to disown their sister. Isabeau would have kept the house in some order at least.”
Lenora digested this in silence, but Gerard fidgeted in his seat. “It is most regrettable when such matters tear families apart,” he said unhappily and shook his head.
Garman’s expression tightened a moment, but then he glanced at Lenora and seemed to relax. She wondered if Gerard Sutton had disliked his own son-in-law so very much that he always felt the need to lament his daughter’s match.
“You’re not eating much stew,” Garman commented, as he scraped his own bowl clean.
Lenora looked down at her own helping which she had been pushing around with her spoon. “I’m afraid my eyes were bigger than my stomach.” She pulled a face. “I ate too many treats in the marketplace this day.”
Gerard chuckled. “I was surprised myself, when you managed that second custard.”
“Oh, but they had so many delicious flavors on that stall.” Feeling Garman’s gaze on her, Lenora lowered her own to her plate, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Her bold words from the night before came back to haunt her. I think I’ve gained some flesh and wanted you to corroborate. She would not have been so daring if he had not been intoxicated. She hoped most heartily he had forgotten that episode altogether.
“Margery, will you have a bath sent up to our room after supper,” Garman said casually, dashing her hopes. She did not dare to raise her eyes, but instead steeled herself to nibble on a green bean. She also wished to goodness she could take back that comment about him taking her on all fours! At the time she had been feigning an insouciance she did not feel.
In truth she felt sore between her legs and far from keen to repeat the marital relations for a while at least. True, he had warned her it was not particularly pleasant for a first time, and he had spoken true. Well, at least the actual culmination of the act had hurt, she corrected herself. The first part had been… pleasurable in the extreme, though somewhat shocking.
Eden’s words stirred in her memory. What was it her cousin had said? Something about the bodies of husbands and wives becoming more attuned as time went on. She must have meant that marital relations get better, Lenora thought, for certainly Eden evinced no apparent revulsion at Roland Vawdrey’s touch these days. She remembered fleetingly how they had stood entwined at Kellingford. No, she did not imagine her cousin shrank from the physical aspect of marriage. Eden would have told her quite truthfully if it were some odious duty that must be performed with gritted teeth each time.
“Will you have some fig tart, milady?” Margery asked from behind her, making her jump.
“What? Oh, no thank you, Margery,” she said hurriedly.
“You’re probably tired,” Garman said slyly, “and should retire directly after your bath.”
“I had a bath last night,” she said quickly. “I had thought the bath for you.”
He gave her a level look. “Oh, it is for my benefit,” he agreed with a gleam in his eye and Lenora directed an alarmed glance his grandfather’s way. Luckily, Gerard was directing Margery how large a slice of pie he wanted and was oblivious to their exchange.
She shot Garman a reproving look, but he only winked at her.
*
Lenora busied herself around the room as her bath was filled with buckets of hot water. She felt sure the servants must think her a most unreasonable mistress, demanding a bath two nights in a row. She was halfway through tidying her jewelry box when Garman came into the room and picked up the last pail of hot water, dismissing the servant and shutting the door behind them.
“Your bath awaits,” he said, emptying the last bucket into the tub and setting it down. He moved over to the bed, sat down and pulled off his boots. She watched covertly as he lowered himself onto his back until he was fully outstretched and placed his hands behind his head. “Don’t let it get cold,” he recommended.
Lenora lifted her chin and finished placing her brooches and rings back into the box before she made any move to remove her gown. This wouldn’t do, she thought, fumbling with her laces. She was no shrinking maiden. She glanced over at Garman’s still form. “Won’t you join me?” she asked coolly. “As you did that first night?” She saw his eyelids flicker and was pleased to think she could still take him aback.
He cleared his throat. “This tub is not so big as the one at the inn,” he said regretfully. “Besides, I thought you might be sore.”
Oh! Lenora’s startled gaze met his. He was being solicitous, not lecherous! Immediately a good deal of tension left her body and she almost breathed a sigh of relief. “I am a bit,” she admitted, loosening her bodice enough to wriggle out of it. “Thank you. That is most considerate.”
“I’m trying,” he said and turned his head as Fendrel jumped up onto the bed next to him and started loudly to purr. Lenora’s gown dropped to the floor and she whipped her shift over her head. She watched Garman pet Fendrel’s small head as the cat extended his claws to dig into his chest.
“I like the way he maintains eye contact with me as he shreds my tunic,” he remarked wryly as he carefully detached the cat’s claws.
Lenora laughed as she stepped over the edge of the tub and sank into the water. “When they’re young like Fendrel, they have not yet learned to temper their strength. As they get older, they grow gentler with us.”
Garman grunted as Fendrel circled about, kneading the bed covers and whisking his tail. “Not the most restful animals, are they?”
“Kittens aren’t,” she conceded. “Their natures are playful and adventurous. But mature cats can be very restful. You have observed I am sure, how calm and loving my Grizelda is.”
“She certainly looked affectionate when I saw her ten minutes ago,” he agreed. Lenora looked up from lathering soap leaves in her hands. “Sat on Hawise’s lap,” he explained. “By the kitchen fire.”
Lenora smiled. “It’s a great relief to me that they are all fitting in. Purcel and Tybalt included.”
“They seem to have the run of the Hainfroy place,” Garman said, watching Fendrel curl up in the centre of his chest. “Purcel knocked two candlesticks and a fruit bowl off the shelf and no-one batted an eyelid.”
“Oh dear,” Lenora murmured. “He must be running riot. Do you think there is any likelihood the brothers may invite their sister home to impose some order about the place?”
He shook his head. “They’d never stomach Lind about the place. Fellow plays a harp.”
“Maybe they should marry?” Lenora said boldly. That might stop their carrying on. “Why don’t you suggest it?”
He snorted. “Who’d have them?”
Lenora tipped her head to one side considering this. “I suppose,” she said, grimacing. “They would need wives with money.”
Garman shrugged. “The estate could certainly use it.”
This remark had the unhappy result of reminding Lenora of the property Garman aspired to buy. The one her dowry would doubtless afford him. “What was the name of that estate again?” she asked. “The one you mean to purchase when you have enough saved.”
“Matchings Halt,” he said shortly.
“It must be close by, I think. As this is Matchings Farm.” He nodded, stroking Fendrel’s short, sleek back. “Could we ride out and see it one morning?” she suggested tentatively.
He frowned. “It’s currently occupied,” he reminded her.
; “The present occupants are unaware that it will soon be up for sale?” she asked and he nodded again. Lenora hesitated. “I think you said it was a widow?”
“A widow and her in-laws,” he agreed.
“Where will they go?”
“That is hardly our concern, Lenora.”
She pursed her lips and wrung out her washing cloth. “Is she wealthy?” she asked slowly. “Does she have other properties?”
“I neither know nor care.”
“Do you dislike her for some reason?” she asked, hoping there might be some reason for his callousness. Maybe the old woman was unpleasant or hard and grasping?
He merely looked surprised by her words. “I can barely remember her,” he said. “I think her reputation locally is good.”
Lenora sat up and looked at him hard, her arms crossed over her breasts. He returned her gaze unflinchingly. Well. “Yet you would dispossess her of her home without a thought,” she persisted.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Life is hard. She is no concern of mine.”
Feeling unaccountably disappointed, Lenora groped around the bottom of the bath for the washcloth. She had washed her hair the night before, so this time she simply concentrated on cleansing her body. Garman’s attitude toward the widow displeased her, reminding her of his own reputation as a stone-hearted brute.
She did not speak for several instances, simply concentrated on her ablutions. Then she covered her front with the cloth, rested her head on the edge and lay back to soak in the water. She had no reason to feel this way. She had married him because, rather than in spite of his reputation. Why then, did she feel so deeply dispirited when he spoke with frankness about his own lack of compassion toward some female about to have her future thrown into jeopardy?
Then it hit her. It was because she identified with this female. Her own security had been snatched from her overnight in a similar fashion. She had retired to her chamber one day, secure in her future and emerged weeks later as a figure only fit to inspire pity in the hearts of men.
Then again, she had married Garman Orde precisely because she knew he was pitiless. She swallowed. Had she so easily forgotten this same fact? Glancing over at the bed, she watched his large hand caress the small gray cat. It was hard to remember sometimes, she thought wistfully. For, had he not shown her true consideration in the past few weeks? She remembered his anger when she had told him of her parents’ words. It had seemed genuine enough at the time.
“The water must be growing cold,” he said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Don’t linger and catch a chill.”
The water had indeed grown cool. Wordlessly, she clambered from the bath and reached for a large sheet to wrap around her shivering body. She made for the fireplace and crouched there on the hearthrug. A footfall behind her told her Garman was approaching, so she did not start when she found herself enveloped from behind with another blanket.
“You’re cold,” he said gruffly, moving his hands up and down her arms.
“Yes,” she agreed quietly and sat passive as he rubbed her body dry.
“You’re my concern, Lenora,” he said in a low voice as he swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He paused. “Where do you keep your clean shifts.”
She pointed to a trunk on the far side of the room and he went to retrieve one for her. She held up her arms as he pulled the white linen garment down over her head and then tucked her in. Then he stripped down and joined her under the covers, tucking his big body behind hers, one arm wrapped firmly about her waist.
Fendrel meowed finding neglected, before making his way to the foot of the bed and settling against their feet. Perfect silence reigned for a few moments and Lenora closed her eyes listening to the crackle of the fire.
“Tell me something,” Garman said out of the blue, quite startling her.
Lenora waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. “Tell you what?”
“Anything.” He almost sounded grumpy. “Something not many people know about you.”
Lenora stared at the wall. Well, this was awkward. Was this where she confessed that she had only grown a personality in the last three months? She bit her lip. She had no personal revelations to impart. “I- I told you once before that I used to be obsessed with fortunes and fortune-telling,” she said, blushing even into the darkness. He made no answer, and she felt sure he thought this was poor fare as secrets went.
“One time,” she rambled on. “A wise woman told me I was a high branch on a venerable old tree. She said the lower branches flourished but I was stunted and bore no leaves.” Her voice broke. “Then she said there was a curse on my pretty face, but later I thought she must have meant that my pretty face was a curse and that was why I had not grown right as I should.”
“What do you mean?” he prompted when she lapsed into silence. “Not grown right?”
“Because all I did was rest on my laurels of beauty, instead of becoming a well-rounded person,” she explained. Then quite suddenly, a thought occurred to her that had her reeling. “Garman, it’s only just occurred to me! Maybe she did mean my face was cursed and she was foretelling I would fall victim to the red pox.” She gasped. “I never thought of it that way before!”
Garman snorted beside her. “Horseshit,” he said heavily. “You’re not stunted.”
“Well, maybe not now,” she concurred. “Maybe I am finally putting forth shoots.” He huffed out a breath of air at this and was in all likelihood rolling his eyes. “Have you never had your fortune told?”
“Never.”
“Not even when you were a child?”
She felt his head rustle on the pillow beside hers and guessed he was shaking it. Suddenly she felt his fingertips come up to rest gently against her jaw in that familiar gesture of his. He ran them lightly over her uneven skin there.
“I like your face better now,” he said, his voice raspy. “This texture here adds character.”
Character? In spite of herself, Lenora felt a warm glow start in the pit of her stomach. “Yes,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut as he drew her in closer to his body. His words were strangely comforting to her soul and when she drifted off to sleep, she felt soothed and surprisingly calm.
31
The next morn, Lenora woke first. She lay quiet and still, surprised their positions had not altered during the night. Garman’s arm was still about her, his head shared her pillow. Remembering their conversation the previous evening, she found she did not, nay, could not believe him wholly callous.
If ‘twere so, he would not treat her so tenderly or want to know more about her surely? When she had wed him, it was true she had thought he would prove an uncaring, neglectful husband. She had believed they would lead practically separate lives with few points of contact. However, that had not proved to be the case. As such, she needed to re-think the working terms of their relationship.
The problem was, she pondered, that currently she brought nothing to the table. When she had approached him, she had done so in the firm conviction that she had a sizeable dowry that would end up in his lap. So far, that had not materialized. Pressing her lips together, she grimly resolved to write that very day to her father. In truth, she could put it off no longer. Mayhap, if she presented Garman with her dowry, he would take on board her objections to dispossessing some poor widow of her own home.
Thus resolved, Lenora reached for Garman’s hand to prize it from it from her waist.
“It’s early,” he objected, his grip tightening. “Go back to sleep.”
“Listen to the birdsong,” Lenora remonstrated. “It’s growing lighter by the minute.”
He lifted his head and glanced at the window. “Nay, it’s still dark and I doubt very much you rose this early at court.”
“No, for I was a spoiled beauty who kept town hours then. Now I am a country housewife and must rise at the crack of dawn,” she told him firmly. The next thing she knew she was under him, flat on her back and b
reathless.
“Is that so?” he rumbled above her. “Well, I think you’ll find, my fine lady, that country wives have other duties to fulfill before they go about their day.”
“Other duties?” she squeaked. His fingers were bunching her shift up to her waist.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to take this damned thing off, could I?”
“It depends.”
“On what?” He paused; his eyes glinted down at her.
“Well.” Lenora turned red. “If I’m to be flat on my back, then I’ll take it off,” she blurted. “But if you mean for me to be on all fours then I want to keep it on.”
She thought his breathing turned rougher a moment. “Why, Lenora Orde,” he said thickly. “I do believe you mean to derive me of the sight of your luscious ass. Which is very contrary of you when you know how much I enjoy it.”
She took a deep breath, “I’m self-conscious about it,” she admitted. “It’s always been far too big for my frame!”
He gave a short laugh. “Keep it on then, be my guest. It won’t impede my enjoyment, I assure you.”
Lenora gasped as with no apparent effort he flipped her onto her front, lifted up her shift and ran his hands over her exposed buttocks.
“Garman!” She squirmed against the mattress.
“Ah Lenora,” he groaned. “If only you could see my view. I’m one lucky bastard.”
She gave a breathless laugh. “I’ve seen it in the mirror, and I don’t like it.”
“You should see it through my eyes,” he said richly and ran another slow hand over her left buttock, cupping it gently. “Though the bruising is a little distracting. Does it hurt?”
“No. Bruising from the collapsing stand?” she asked, not wanting to ask outright about Sir Lionel’s pinch-mark.
“Mmmm,” he agreed. “Do you remember what I did last time? In that field in Kellingford, to make it better?”
Lenora’s eyes widened. “Umm… “He moved down and she felt the brush of his lips there against her skin again and again. “You kissed it,” she breathed out.
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 30