The Ward's Bride (Border Series Prequel Novella)

by Cecelia Mecca

  “It matters not, my lord. The deed is done.”

  Adam picked up his goblet and held it out to her. “Indeed it is, Cora.” He smiled and took a sip of the heavily spiced wine.

  Cora could smell its contents from where she sat. She should look away. So why did her eyes refuse to shift from his?

  Staring back at her, he set the cup down on the table.

  She suddenly realized the deed he referred to was not the exchange of their wedding vows. The cad!

  “Have I embarrassed you?” he asked.

  “Not at all, Sir Adam.” She tried to sound experienced. “I do not embarrass easily.”

  It was actually quite the opposite, but he didn’t have to know such a thing.

  He leaned toward her, and Cora glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying them any attention.

  “Come close, wife.”

  That rankled. Cora was unused to taking orders, even from her father. This marriage was, of course, the one glaring exception.

  “Yes, husband.”

  His lips were so close to her ear, she could feel his breath on her neck.

  Cora shivered.

  “I’m pleased to hear that you don’t embarrass easily,” he whispered. “I believe we will get along well, both in the bedchamber and out of it.”

  The most unusual feeling deep within her gut prompted her to pull away so quickly, she spilled her own goblet of wine on herself.

  “Oh.” She attempted to somehow stop the flow of the deep red liquid onto her lap, but it was too late. A servant rushed to the dais and Cora stood, grateful for the excuse to get away from her English husband.

  “Can I be of assistance, my lady?” her husband asked. He did not bother to hide the suggestion in his voice. She had to get out of there.

  “Pardon me, Sir Adam. Father.”

  She fairly ran from the hall and allowed the handmaiden to escort her to her chamber.

  “Shall I help you choose a new gown, my lady?”

  Though the girl appeared fairly young—no more than ten and eight—the half smile upon her lips was unquestionably suggestive. Of course, the youngest of lasses and lads knew something of what happened on the wedding night. Cora felt her cheeks grow warm.

  The girl chattered happily while she assisted Cora out of the wedding gown, which had likely been stained beyond repair.

  An omen?

  “A pity, ‘tis a fine fabric, my lady.” The maid worked quickly to button the back of her fresh gown closed. Most of the dresses she’d brought to Langford were more practical, but her mother had wanted her to have a special gown for her wedding. She, on the other hand, did not care to impress Sir Adam, or anyone really, but…

  “We haven’t had a lady at Langford since I was a girl.”

  “Was the previous lord not married?” she asked, her interest piqued in spite of herself.

  Or perhaps he’d been a widow?

  “Nay, my lady. His wife, God rest her soul and his too, lived in London.”

  The maid finished her work and Cora turned to face her. She was a pretty girl, with her blonde hair tucked neatly under a serviceable cap.

  “They lived separately?”

  She’d heard of such a thing, of course. But not as a permanent arrangement. The girl made it sound as if Langford had not had a true mistress in many years.

  “Aye, my lady. I ne’er saw her myself. ‘Twas not a surprise the lord sired no children.”

  Which was why Langford had reverted back to its overlord, Cora surmised. And the earl had then bestowed it on her husband.

  “How is that possible?”

  The maid attempted to brush away the wrinkles in her gown. “A mensa et thoro,” she said matter-of-factly.

  From table and bed. Which meant…

  “The lord was abusive?”

  In order to legally separate from table and bed—some said from bed and board—a spouse, usually the wife, had to claim abuse. Which was why such a thing was so rare. There was a high tolerance for abuse when it came to a husband and wife.

  “Nay, ‘tis said he was a most caring man,” the girl replied.

  That made no sense. “But then—”

  “Mistress Clare can tell ye the tale. But as I heard it, she just up and left. Hated it here. Loved London and being at court. We ought not talk about the past on such a happy day. Beggin’ my pardon for sayin’ so, but you make a beautiful bride, my lady.”

  Cora had been told she was beautiful her whole life. But it mattered little. To be with her mother and sister, and her father, that was what mattered.

  “Thank you.”

  As she walked toward the hall, sounds of talking and laughter floated up to her. When the flutist’s sweet melody began, the festive mood emboldened her. A smile surfaced on her face for the first time that day.

  It wasn’t the wedding feast below that pleased her, but the idea that had taken hold as she talked to the maid. This morning Cora had thought she was well and truly trapped. Shackled to an English knight, left with no recourse except to serve him dutifully as his wife.

  But now she had a new plan. One that would allow Sir Adam to keep his English bride and the land and title that went along with it, while also ensuring Cora did not spend her days among strangers hundreds of miles from her country and her family.

  It was simple, really.

  She may not have had the chance to talk Sir Adam out of the wedding. But as his wife, she would surely have opportunities to force him to set her aside. She’d seen her father easily annoyed with “women’s matters.” She would simply mimic some of her sister’s finer displays.

  Children.

  If she succeeded in her campaign, Cora would not be able to remarry. She’d never have children of her own. But what was the alternative? Remaining wed to an Englishman?

  Never.

  Undoubtedly, Sir Adam’s confused expression as she walked toward the dais was due to her changed mood. She almost felt sorry for him. For she would do anything to force him to send her home.

  And she’d begin her campaign immediately.

  4

  His new wife was breathtaking. But she did not want this marriage, which was why the change in her temperament was most unexpected. Who exactly was this new wife of his? Meek, as he first suspected? But that did not qualify with the look in her eye as he teased her earlier.

  And now she appeared happy when the woman was anything but earlier in the day.

  “I feared you would not return, my lady.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. “To my own wedding feast? Whatever would give you such an idea, Adam?”

  Instantly, he hardened. A smiling Cora was a sight to behold, and the sound of his name on her lips…

  “It seems you’ve changed more than simply your gown?”

  “Forgive me for my earlier temperament. I fear the journey and shock of our hasty nuptials was a bit too much to bear.”

  He wasn’t the only person to notice the change. Lord Maxwell leaned forward to join their conversation. “My dear, you seem…quite happy.”

  Adam understood his confusion.

  “I’ve changed my gown, Father. And I suddenly feel quite refreshed.”

  Her father grunted in response, looked quizzically at his daughter, and resumed conversation with his captain.

  The meal progressed but Adam hardly noticed the courses being served, though he was very pleased with the cook. Charles may have neglected Langford in some respects, but his slightly rounded belly gave evidence to the fact that its kitchens were well maintained.

  “Tell me something about yourself.” Cora very delicately picked up a piece of cheese. Adam watched her lips open as she placed the morsel in her mouth. He shifted in his seat.

  “What do you want to know?” He wasn’t accustomed to idle chatter. The women with whom he’d kept company had consisted mostly of non-nobles or widows—he would never have shamed the Caiser name by bedding a titled, unmarried maid—and none of them had favored conv
ersation of this sort.

  “How did you come to forge an alliance with one of the most powerful men along the border?”

  He glanced at her father, a man equally as powerful as Spencer.

  “Luck?”

  Cora’s laughter sounded like pealing bells. He could get used to such a sound.

  “I squired with the earl after both of my parents were killed.” He anticipated her next question. “An unknown disease that took four lives in our small manor house and more than twenty others in the village.”

  Adam rarely spoke of his parents’ deaths, and he didn’t wish to do so now, especially since his parents’ absence on his wedding day was deeply felt. “I had no other family to speak of, and Lord Kenshire raised me like I was his own son. But surely you already know this.”

  “Aye, my father may have mentioned it.”

  She scrunched her nose, likely without realizing it. “And you have built quite a reputation at Kenshire.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps? No man offers such a place,” she swept her arm up, “to a retainer. Even members of my clan who stay away from English affairs know of your reputation with the sword.”

  “It would not surprise me.”

  Cora’s eyes widened. She’d sensed no arrogance in his tone; he simply stated it as a fact.

  “And you, Lady Cora?”

  “I thought we had dispensed with formalities?”

  “My apologies. It’s not often I meet a woman and marry her on the same day.”

  Her smile faltered. She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it instead. Interesting. So his wife was choosing to conceal how much she resented the arrangement. Why?

  “Tell me of your family,” he said.

  She looked toward her father, who glanced her way and smiled. The man with the fiercest reputation in Scotland appeared remarkably…ordinary at the moment.

  “You’ve met my father,” she started, “who refused to allow my mother and younger sister to travel to England for my wedding.” She took a sip of wine.

  Cora didn’t seem upset by her father’s decree; she merely stated it as a fact. Well done, my wife. He would not remark upon the fact that she likely hoped to return to Scotland.

  Their conversation was interrupted by a sound at the back of the hall—a cascading noise that continued to grow louder. Soon, nearly every guest was pounding his or her mug on the trestle tables.

  “Are you ready?” Adam whispered to his bride.

  She stared blankly back at him. Perhaps they had different traditions where she was from.

  “To retire.”

  Her eyes widened, but he had no time to reassure her. The sound was already deafening. The moment he stood, shouts erupted across the room and the musicians ceased playing.

  “Lord Maxwell, honored guests, and all who serve Langford Castle—I thank you for sharing in our celebration here today.” More cheers. “As the new lord, I’ve sworn to protect and care for the people here, and will do so with the diligence instilled in me by the second earl of Kenshire, Spencer Caiser.”

  He waited for the noise to die down before continuing, pleased by the show of respect for the earl. “I swear the same to my new wife and her family. May God bless them and you on this fine day. And now, we shall retire as man and wife, without witness.”

  He expected the gasps, but he did not care how anyone else took it—his new wife was visibly relieved. Cora was lovely, even more so with her cheeks slightly flushed from the wine. He held out his hand, and when she stood and laid her delicate fingers on top of his own, Adam could not resist glancing down at her. He felt something that was not normally reserved for man and wife but rather for lovers. Was it possible they could be both? He had never dared hope for such a thing.

  He nodded to her father and escorted Cora from the hall amidst bawdy remarks and cheers. They ascended the winding staircase before the noise finally quieted. Adam stopped in front of the lady’s temporary quarters. Cora’s hand was still tucked in his, and he watched her in the torch-lit hallway, marveling at the play of the light in her vibrant red hair.

  The moment ended when Clare ran up to them, breathing heavily.

  “My apologies, I was in the kitchens when…where is everyone?”

  “I bade them to remain in the hall.”

  “But, it’s your…you’ll need to…”

  Adam nearly laughed, but Clare had already proven so helpful to him, and he did not want to insult the woman. “You may assist Lady Cora, Mistress Clare.” He bowed to his wife. “I will be waiting for you, my lady.”

  He turned away before Cora could respond. Her rounded eyes told him what he’d already suspected. His wife was nervous—just as he had been before his first time. He would go slowly and show her the pleasures they could look forward to as husband and wife.

  He would tread gently with his nervous new wife.

  How could she avoid consummating the marriage?

  Her plan to coax Adam to set her aside would never work if they went to bed together. She’d completely forgotten about the barbaric English tradition of the bedding ceremony for nobles. There was no way she could have convinced Adam not to take her fully and truly as his bride if there had been witnesses to the event. Thankfully, he’d set that awful tradition aside, presumably to please her. But it was obvious he still expected to bed her, and she had no clear plan to stop it from happening.

  What was she to do? Claim to have her monthly flow? What if that did not stop him? Maidenly embarrassment? She had a feeling it would not work.

  There was a quick knock, and then the door within her chamber flew open.

  She stood in the middle of the well-appointed bedchamber, complete with a canopied bed and private sitting room. Clare had braided her hair and assisted her into the chemise her mother had sent for this very occasion. The material was so thin, it was nearly transparent. A fact she was reminded of as she watched Adam’s face.

  “I worried you may have forgotten it was your wedding night.”

  She would focus on his face. Cora refused to look down at his bare…

  Dear Lord.

  Dressed only in braies, the man was as solid as the stone wall behind him. The soft glow of the fire revealed every muscle. Every line. She could not look away from his stomach. She’d seen men train shirtless but never, not once, had she seen a man’s stomach look quite so… Cora wanted desperately to touch the muscles there.

  No, she did not! What she wanted was to escape the evening with her virginity.

  “‘Twould be hard to forget. Adam.”

  He turned, closed the heavy wooden door as if it were a piece of parchment, and walked toward her. In just a few strides, her husband stood so close she could smell his scent, a combination of clover and leather. Some instinct made her breathe in deeply.

  Then he reached for her and she panicked.

  “Your stomach!”

  His hand stayed.

  “It’s so…muscular.” Cora knew she sounded ridiculous, but they had been the first words to come to mind. Perhaps if she delayed long enough, she could hope for divine intervention.

  “I am a knight,” he said simply.

  “I’ve seen knights train before.” She turned and walked toward the fire, rubbing her hands as if cold. In truth, she was anything but. “But I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  She didn’t have to turn around to sense his approach. His body exuded an unmistakable warmth and presence.

  “I would hope not.”

  What is that supposed to mean?

  “Tell me more about yourself, my lord…Adam.”

  She waited, but he remained silent. Moments later, she heard retreating footsteps and then the sound of the door opening once again. He was gone? Could it have been that easy? Excitement bubbled inside her. He didn’t like to talk about himself. Well, she would do nothing but ask questions.

  It would seem she had celebrated too soon.

  Adam walked back through the do
or a moment later with two goblets and a flagon of wine. He set them on a nearby table and poured two drinks. Handing one to her, he took a deep swig of his own.

  “Drink, Cora.”

  Although it sounded more like a command than she would have liked, Cora did so anyway. The sweet French wine felt smooth flowing down her throat.

  He moved two chairs from the sitting room, arranging them by the fire. They were ornate, high-backed chairs with crimson and gold cushions. “Sit.”

  Was she a dog to be ordered about so? Cora nearly asked the question aloud, but then she remembered her purpose.

  She sat and pulled her legs up beneath her. Cora caught him looking at her bare calves, and a jolt of desire ran through her and settled between her legs. It was the oddest sensation.

  “You’re nervous.”

  She was, but not for the reason he assumed. Or, at least, not only for that reason.

  “Aye, very much so.” She cast her eyes downward in the way she’d seen her sister, a more practiced flirt, do a thousand times. Cora had no use for such silly affectations. Before he’d sold her off in marriage, her father had brought home dozens of eligible bachelors in the hopes of enticing her to marriage. While her sister had chased every last one of them, Cora had continued to spend her free time learning to hunt and shoot the longbow. Perhaps that was what had gotten her here.

  And now that she was married, Cora had no doubt her sister would find a suitor without haste. And then her mother would be alone with only a man who was more companion than husband. A man who cared more for making war, and peace, than he did for his wife.

  “The wine will help,” Adam offered.

  She took a sip and looked up, giving her half-naked husband a most pitiful look. “It’s just… I would very much like to get to know you first. Before we…you know. I would be so much more relaxed if it weren’t for…”

  She did not dare look into his eyes, but it was easy to imagine the look in them. As the fire crackled beside her, Cora held her breath…waiting. Lord help her, she could not stop looking at his chest. The muscles there twitched. She lifted her head, finally, and watched as his frown softened.