**
Oswald Vawdrey, thought Fen dazedly, was a rampaging beast between the bed-sheets. She shifted her legs tentatively and winced. Her thigh muscles ached. Her lady parts burned. There was stickiness and slickness in embarrassing places and she had no idea how she was going to get out of the bed to either wash herself or get a stitch of clothing on. She clutched the bed-sheets to her front and tried not to worry about the hard body pressed against her back. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d unleashed in her heretofore restrained husband the previous evening, but he had been like a man possessed. A man possessed with lust. She shivered. She wouldn’t feel so bad if she hadn’t behaved like an abandoned creature herself, she thought closing her eyes with mortification. What in heavens had come over her? And what would her husband think of her this morning? She gave a soft groan and felt him stir against her. In more place than one. Fen gulped. A big hand slipped possessively over her hip and gripped her there. She felt his warm breath on her neck and felt strangely quivery. Oh my gods, thought Fen weakly. He couldn’t want that again this morning, surely? She peered nervously over her shoulder. His eyes opened and he smiled at her. She blinked at the sight and her chest squeezed tight. He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. He shifted closer pressed his face into her neck, his arms tightening around her to pull her in against him. She felt his hardness press into buttocks and suppressed a faint whine. Surely he would not expect her to tryst with him again this morn?
“Good morning, wife,” he said huskily and kissed her neck lingeringly.
“Good morning,” she said croakily.
“Husband,” he prompted her. She could hear the frown in his voice.
“Husband,” she added hastily.
“That’s better,” he whispered and rolled her underneath him.
“Meldon,” she blurted in a yelped warning.
He drew his head back to glance at the bedroom door, then returned his gaze to her. “Nay, he is not arrived,” he murmured.
“Indeed, we must be expecting him any moment,” babbled Fen. She waited breathlessly for him to remove his weight from her, but he did not.
“I have a key for that lock,” he said distractedly, and ran a hand down her breast. “Somewhere.”
She gave a strangled groan as he lightly squeezed and his gaze snapped to hers.
“Are you sore, wife?” he asked in a throaty, low voice. His eyes were dark and even if she could not feel his erect manhood pressing insistently against her belly, she could be in no doubt that he was keen to repeat last night’s performance. The knowledge made her face burn.
“Yes,” she confessed in a whisper.
“Should you like to take a bath, love?”
His words made her breath catch in her throat. “Together?” she asked in a scandalized squeak. Though in truth it was his use of the word ‘love’ that really shocked her. She felt all of a flutter. He had used it last night once or twice. But even a naïve country girl such as herself, knew you should not believe a word a man said when he was between your legs.
His elusive smile appeared again. It was so unexpected that she stared. He looked relaxed, she thought with surprise. That was the difference. His dark hair fell forward in his face. And the expression in his eyes matched his words for once.
“I would very much like to bathe you,” he admitted without a trace of shame. “But alas, I have to meet with the King this morning and cannot tarry.”
Her face flamed. He’d like to bathe her? For a moment she thought she’d misheard him, but his face wore a quizzical expression. She tried to school her own features so she looked less shocked. “Is that something that is done by a husband for his wife?” she asked weakly.
He shrugged. “Why not?” His hand had slipped beneath her now and he was stroking her backside with such familiarity that she kept forgetting to breathe. Suddenly she remembered that Meldon’s god-daughter was expected to start with them today. “The new lady’s maid,” she reminded him unevenly. What was her name?
“Hmm?” Oswald’s eyes were on her mouth, but he didn’t seem to be taking in her words.
“Trudy,” she remembered suddenly, but his mouth was already on hers, warm and lascivious. His tongue slid along hers so teasingly that Fen felt it in her very loins, her whole body quivering. He groaned into the kiss and her hands flew to grasp his upper arms for strength as she strained against him. She clutched the flexing muscle and moaned herself when his hard thigh pushed between her own and rubbed against the tender spot there. He tore his mouth away at the sound of the latch and rolled onto his side, drawing the blanket firmly up around her.
“Her ladyship requires a bath,” he told Meldon as the servant stomped over to the washstand. Fenella marveled at his steady voice. “Have one sent up from the kitchens.”
“Aye,” muttered Meldon.
“And I require the key for this bedroom door.”
“The key?”
“That’s what I said. The key.”
Fenella closed her eyes and kept them shut as Meldon set down the water jug and then stomped back out again. “He won’t be happy about having to fetch a bath,” she commented.
Oswald shrugged. He was already rising from the bed. “He will reconcile himself. As you say, his god-daughter starts with you today, so his duties will be lighter.”
Fenella heard him pour the water from the ewer into the basin and snuck a peek at him as he started to wash. He did not trouble to draw on his robe this morning, no doubt thinking she was beyond being shocked by this point. Sadly, proving him wrong, she felt a blush spread over her neck and face as she hurriedly averted her gaze. He was clearly aroused, which was not something you could miss with a man as well-endowed as he.
“What will you do, today?” he asked casually. “Have you made any plans?”
Fenella considered this as she listened to the sound of the water sloshing around. “Hester Schaeffer said she could introduce me to a gathering of ladies who meet twice a month to discuss the arts,” she said without much enthusiasm.
The ewer chinked against the basin and she guessed he was adding more hot water.
“That could be instructive,” he said, and she heard him shake out a cloth.
“They will all be very learned and cultured noble ladies,” she said plucking at the bedsheets. Unlike myself, she added silently.
“You will be fine,” Oswald assured her in a slightly muffled voice. He must be wiping his face. “If you should feel out of your depth, simply offer to sponsor someone. There’s always a surfeit of poets, playwrights and painters loitering around court.”
“But how will I know if they are any good?” she asked. “Sadly, I could not rely on my own judgement in this area.”
She heard droplets and thought he must be wringing out his wash-cloth.
“In such cases it is probably best to be led by those who are considered good judges,” Oswald told her. “Lady Eden Montmayne is generally held to have excellent taste and a lively appreciation of the arts.”
“Eden Montmayne,” repeated Fenella committing the name to memory. “Have I met her already?”
Oswald paused, considering this. “I do not think so. She is one of the Queen’s most recently-appointed ladies in waiting. Lady Schaeffer can perform your introductions.”
“Will Lord Schaeffer be at your meeting this morning?” she asked, attempting a wifely interest.
“No,” he answered briefly.
“Is it a full meeting of the privy council or just yourself and the King?”
“Fenella,” he said, and she heard the frown in his voice and looked up with surprise.
He was rubbing a drying cloth across his chest. Luckily it hung down and obscured his groin area from her view. “I would prefer that your interest in my line of work was less lively,” he said forthrightly.
Fen found herself tongue-tied. Oh. “I apologize,” she managed to splutter at last. She remembered Roland’s words, when he was taunting her. Clearly her
husband meant to make no clear explanation of his role at Wymer’s court. Ambrose had always liked a sounding-board, and would talk at great length about his duties as an equerry and his struggles and tribulations in the execution of those duties. It seemed Oswald had no such similar use for his help-meet. For some reason, it felt rather like he had slammed a door in her face. She lapsed into awkward silence as she cast about for some subject he would find less unwelcome. Unfortunately, her mind chose this moment precisely to turn blank. She heard one of the trunk lids fall and realized he was dressing now anyway and turned onto her side away from him to give him some privacy.
“Will you join me to break your fast?” he asked a few moments later. “You don’t need to dress,” he added, holding up the scarlet robe as she looked back over her shoulder at him.
“If you want me to,” she answered, and he moved swiftly around to her side of the bed, shaking out the folds of the satin robe and holding it out for her to place her arms in the sleeves. Fen clambered out of the bed, tugging on the shift to make sure she had adequate coverage.
He folded her into the robe from behind, and then stood a moment with his arms wrapped firmly around her. “I do want you to,” he said in a low voice which Fen felt in the region of her stomach. They stood a moment, motionless until the door creaked open again and Meldon peered around it.
“Is all decent within?” he asked caustically. “Only I’ve two men here with the bath.”
“Have them bring it in,” said Oswald coolly as he detached himself. A large wooden tub was rolled into the room. “It will take them several journeys to fill it,” he said. “So, you can eat with me in the meantime.”
Fen followed him into the adjoining room and sat at the table while he ate salted fish and white bread. She did not have much appetite and sat crumbling her bread feeling strangely skittish and shy. “How is your head?” she asked curiously as he took a swig of water.
“My head?”
“You drank two cups of wine last night,” she reminded him.
He seemed to consider this a moment. “It is a little heavy and I can tell I have imbibed.” He shrugged. “Other than that I can feel no ill effects.”
“Good,” she murmured. Then on impulse, she asked: “Does the scar on your back never pain you?”
He paused, a piece of bread to his lips. Then put it in his mouth and chewed without answering her.
“Did you get it during the war?” she plunged on recklessly.
“I don’t speak of it,” he said blankly. “It was a long time ago.”
So, no questions about his work or his past soldiering. She lapsed into silence. Under such circumstances it was hard not to deduce there was only one kind of intimacy Lord Vawdrey wished with her. The thought was strangely depressing.
At the end of the meal he reached across and covered her hand with his. “I will see you this evening,” he said easily. “We had a supper invitation from the Dowager Duchess of Lessing which I accepted.” He paused. “It will be an opportunity to wear one of your new dresses.”
Fen nodded and was relieved when Roland’s door opened and her brother-in-law emerged along with her dog Bors. He checked on the threshold and Oswald withdrew his hand and stood. “Enjoy your bath,” he said and left the room.
Bors danced up to her and she gave him a few pats on his head. “Did Bors sleep in your room last night?” she asked Roland in an effort to distract herself.
He visibly bristled. “How should I know?” he said. “Woke up this morning and there he was.”
Fenella looked at him askance. Once again, her brother-in-law looked a little worse for wear. Perhaps Bors had snuck in with him after he returned from his night’s carousing?
Bors threw a sheepish glance her way and then went and flung himself under Roland’s chair.
“Well! He certainly seems to have taken to you,” remarked Fen.
“Dogs are known to be good judges of character,” Roland boasted.
A series of servants had been trooping in to the bedroom with steaming pails of water. The steady stream seemed to have now come to a halt. Anxious not to let the water go cold, Fen came to her feet. “Excuse me,” she murmured to Roland who was piling food onto his plate. He grunted something as she made her way back to the bedroom and closed the door after her.
“Oh!” she exclaimed on finding Trudy her new maid already employed in sprinkling herbs into the water. “Good morning. I did not see you come in, Trudy.”
“Your pardon milady,” she said dropping into a curtsey. “But you was break-fasting so I didn’t want to intrude.”
“That is quite alright,” Fen replied as she pinned her braids on top of her head out of the way. “Though I would have taken the opportunity to introduce you to my husband.”
Trudy’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt him and get on the bad side of the master so soon,” she said and anxiously crossed her fingers to superstitiously ward off bad luck.
Fenella who was unbuttoning her robe, looked up in surprise. Meldon never acted in the least scared of Oswald so she was startled by his god-daughter’s words. “Lord Vawdrey is not so easily put out of temper,” she said as she shrugged out of the scarlet robe.
Trudy hurried over to take it off her. “Begging your pardon, but that’s not what I’ve been hearing, milady,” she said enigmatically.
Fen paused in the act of peeling off her shift. “Really?” she asked. “From Meldon?”
“Lord no!” Trudy’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Please don’t think that uncle would ever gossip out of turn about the Vawdrey family. He didn’t tell me nothing, except to mind my betters and not put him to shame!”
“I see,” said Fen who had approached the steaming tub and was now climbing in. She sighed as she sank down into the hot water. The steam was fragrant from the sweet green herbs. It was a luxury indeed to be fully immersed and the water still hot.
Trudy hurried over and passed her a sponge. “For your feet milady.”
Fen took it gratefully. Trudy was running a line of string across the room which she secured by tying to a hook by the ceiling. Then she flung a white sheet over it and drew the sheet back along the line to suspend over the bath where it trapped the steam and provided a shelter over the tub. “Next time, I’ll secure some rose petals for your bath, milady,” she told her. “The oils is most beneficial for the skin.”
“Thank you,” said Fenella gratefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so nice a bath.”
Trudy looked gratified and started folding the scarlet satin robe before tidying it away into a chest. She approached again and hung a wash cloth over the side of the bath and passed a ball of Castille soap to Fen. “If you turn about, I can wash your back for you milady,” she offered.
“Thank you,” Fen rotated in the water and Trudy commenced scrubbing her neck. “How was your journey to the castle this morning?” she asked.
“Fine milady, I made good time. It only took me a half hour. I ate my first meal with the castle staff in the kitchens. Hold out your left arm, milady.”
“And how was that?” asked Fen, extending her arm.
“Oh, very good, milady,” she said happily. “They filled me in on all the gossip regarding yourself and his lordship.”
Fen blinked. “Gossip?” she repeated with some trepidation. “Oh dear!”
“Oh no, milady, it was very instructive,” Trudy hastened to assure her. “It’s better to know how things lie from the outset. Servants is always best for that,” she said smugly.
“Really?” asked Fen doubtfully. “Only I do not think the castle servants can know … “
“Other arm,” Trudy interrupted her Fen lowered one and raised the other. “Oh yes, milady. They knows all about it.”
“They do?”
“Oh yes!” Trudy nodded. “I even heard all about how Lord Vawdrey got your jewels back from the Thanes.”
Fenella had been steeling herself to deliver a lofty speech about not paying goss
ip any heed, almost lost her footing on her sponge. “You did?” she squeaked and nearly swallowed a mouthful of bath water.
“Yes milady,” said Trudy firmly. “Foot.”
Fenella lifted one foot out of the water and rested it on the bath ledge. She stared at her maid in deep thought. “I have not heard myself how he retrieved them,” she admitted finally.
Trudy looked a little smug at this information. “Would you like to hear the tale miss?” she asked as she rubbed a soaped brush over Fenella’s toes. “Only I should not wish to offend by passing on servant’s tattle but…” she shrugged. “If milady would find it interesting I could impart what I have learned this morn.”
Fen considered this a moment. She really didn’t ought to encourage her maid to attend to gossip, let alone circulate it. As if aware of her inner struggle, her maid held her tongue a moment. “Other foot,” she prompted.
Fen switched feet and sighed. “I would like to hear it, Trudy,” she admitted. “But…”
“As your personal maid, it is quite fitting that I should tell you,” Trudy rambled on.
Fen could feel her resolve waver. She did want to know after all.
“And of course, other than you, I won’t repeat it to no-one,” said Trudy virtuously. “’Cept for Jeb.”
“Jeb?”
“My husband, milady. He loves to hear a tale or two of what the nobility get up to,” she gently shook her head. “How it do amuse him!”
Fen chose to ignore this. “Very well, then,” she said relenting. Trudy released her foot and Fen drifted to the edge of the bath, resting her elbows on the ledge as her maid drew up a footstool.
His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2) Page 19