Her Baseborn Bridegroom (Vawdrey Brothers Book 1)

by Alice Coldbreath

  He nodded. Linnet slipped on a pair of her old cloth slippers and padded along the corridor after her brother-in-law. To her surprise, he led her to a low wooden door rather than carrying on down the corridor.

  Seeing her surprise, he winked. “Servant’s stair,” he whispered.

  Linnet followed him up the winding stairs, pausing when he gave her the signal and crouching low and waiting in the shadows when he went ahead to check there was no one about. They emerged a few minutes later in another wide corridor which led to the Vawdrey chambers.

  “Through here,” he said, gesturing to a doorway. She lowered her hood and found she was in a small sitting room. “That one’s Mason’s room,” he said, nodding towards it. “Father’s stormed off. He won’t be back tonight, so don’t worry about him. I’m in that room. Roland’s staying with the Jevonses. Do you need anything?”

  She shook her head. “Thank you, Oswald.”

  “Be kind to him. He’s had a rough day.” He hesitated. “He couldn’t sleep last night without you. He’s not really handling all this very well.”

  Linnet stared. “Um, will you knock on the door when it’s time for me to sneak back?”

  “Yes, don’t worry. I’m a good timekeeper.”

  She smiled at her brother-in-law and then made her way to Mason’s room.

  XXVI

  Mason was lying on his back, one arm flung across the pillow, his brow puckered in a frown. He looked to be slumbering to Linnet, but maybe he was only sotted.

  “Mason?” she whispered as she clambered on the bed beside him. She placed a hand on his chest and his eyes flickered open.

  “Linnet,” he breathed and smiled at her. His eyes drifted shut again.

  Sotted, thought Linnet.

  Then his eyes opened again. “That’s an ugly nightgown, sweetheart.” He frowned. “Take it off.”

  “Still bossy, even when drunk,” she remarked. When she sat up to pull it over her head, he struggled to sit up.

  “Don’t go.” Then he clutched his head and groaned. “Dizzy.”

  “Lie back down,” she said, flinging the white nightgown over the edge of the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.” She shifted over to wrap her arm around his chest, pressing into his side.

  He made an approving sound deep from his chest.

  “Missed you,” he said, dragging her physically closer. He caught one leg and pulled it over his waist.

  She turned her face into his neck and breathed deep. “I missed you too.”

  “Did you?” he asked belligerently and squinted down at her. “I read your book.” His gaze was faintly accusing.

  “You did?” she asked lightly. “You know I didn’t write the story, Mason. It’s an old tale.”

  He grunted.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked, planting a palm on his chest and lifting off him. “Something displeased you?”

  He closed his eyes. “I’m nothing like him. Sir Maurency.”

  She hesitated. “Well, as to that. I’m nothing like the ladies in those tales either.”

  His eyes flickered back open. “How’s that?”

  “All the ladies are saintly in virtue and dazzling in their beauty.”

  He snorted, his eyes drifting back shut. Then they snapped back open. “Who said you weren’t?”

  “If I was saintly in virtue I wouldn’t be sneaking into your bed like this against the King’s orders,” she pointed out tartly.

  “This is where you belong,” he said with satisfaction, his hand sliding up and down her thigh.

  “And if I was dazzling in beauty people wouldn’t be saying I looked like a toad in a dress!”

  That got his attention. “Who the fuck said that?” he asked angrily, his eyes bright.

  “I don’t know. Everyone apparently. At least it explains why your brother jilted me.”

  “They’re all fools,” said Mason, his eyes drifting shut again. “And Roland’s the biggest one of all . . . don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “That doesn’t matter anyway,” said Linnet briskly. “That’s not the point I was making.”

  “Hmm. Kiss me Linnet.”

  “What did you say?” Was he even following their conversation?

  He gave a soft snore and she gazed at him in exasperation.

  “Well, really,” she muttered beneath her breath.

  Then her gaze softened. He looked so much more approachable in the soft candlelight, his brow now completely free of frowns. She brought her hands up to rest flat against his large tanned chest. Then brought them down his muscular stomach. His muscles bunched and rippled beneath her touch. He groaned and whispered her name. She hesitated. Should she stop? She didn’t usually get the chance to explore. Usually he took over long before she got the opportunity! She bit her lip. Well, he had told her to kiss him! She leaned forward tentatively and pressed a soft kiss to one of his flat nipples. So small and different from her own. When he didn’t react, she kissed the other one. Still nothing. Hmmm. They obviously weren’t sensitive like hers. When she went to move down further, she felt something hard bob against her thigh and realized he wasn’t unaffected by her ministrations. Hmm interesting. Carefully she shifted over him, until she was straddling his thighs, his erect manhood bumping against her belly as she leant forward to continue kissing the defined muscles on his stomach.

  He groaned and reached down, capturing her head between his large hands, his fingers plunging into her hair. She could feel him gently urging her down and nothing loth, she shifted down his legs further until she was facing his very turgid manroot. So hard was it that it pointed straight up at her and Linnet stared at it with fascination. Of course, she was pretty well acquainted now with her husband’s appendage, but she had never seen it up close before. Whenever she tried to pet it usually, he rolled on top of her and pushed it between her thighs! His hands kept a steady pressure on her head, so she guessed she must be right where he wanted her. The crazy idea popped into her head that he might want her to kiss it! After all, he had kissed her in her most intimate place and it had been shockingly delightful. Feeling extremely daring, she bobbed her head forward and kissed it softly on the tip. Mason’s body jerked.

  “Linnet!” he gasped and went rigid. She looked up to find him blinking down at her with a look of shocked surprise on his face. “What?”

  When she tried to lean forward again, his hands clutched her scalp holding her off him. “Don’t sweeting,” he said, his voice sounded raw. “You probably shouldn’t do that.”

  His chest was heaving like he’d run ten flights of stairs, she noticed. And quite frankly, though his hands held her in check, his man part was straining towards her as if it had a mind of its own.

  “Why not?” she asked. “You kiss me there.”

  “It’s not the same,” he said, sounding tense. “You won’t like it.”

  She considered this a moment. “Would you like it?”

  He made a choked sound.

  She drew her own conclusions. “Let me try it.”

  “Gods,” he moaned. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I’m being nice to you. Stop being stubborn.”

  “You’ll stop when I tell you to?” he asked in a strangled voice.

  She nodded.

  He groaned again and eased off his grasp on her head.

  Linnet surged forward and kissed it again on the fat tip. She felt him relax slightly and give a relieved sigh as she kissed it again. Linnet frowned. That couldn’t be right, she must be doing something wrong. Then she remembered how he had pleasured her. Soft kisses at first, but then his tongue. Her frown cleared and she gave him a lingering lick that had his fingers digging back in her hair.

  He shuddered. “Linnet!” A sharp groan. “Holy hells!”

  She licked and licked all around the top and down the sturdy shaft until he was shaking and she was running out of ideas.

  “Just . . . Stop,” he gasped.

  “Stop?”
When she tried to lift her head to look at him his hands tightened on her hair holding her in place.

  He swore, low and dirty.

  No, that couldn’t be right, thought Linnet, narrowing her eyes. When he did it to her he took her all the way to rapture.

  “Just—oh fuck, put me in your mouth,” he gritted out.

  In her mouth? Linnet’s expression cleared. Hmm, that did make sense if it was mimicking the act. She opened her mouth around the tip and engulfed as much as she could. He was moaning now and shifting his hips.

  “Just . . . breathe through your nose,” he told her raspily as his hips settled into softly undulating against her. Suddenly, he hissed through his teeth. “Stop, stop now,” he gasped out. “If you don’t—”

  Linnet sucked in a breath to ask if that was really what he wanted, forgetting that her mouth was full of him and that she couldn’t speak anyway, and suddenly he was roaring and her mouth was even fuller as he swelled against the roof of her mouth and pulsed against her tongue and her mouth was flooded. She gave an astonished exclamation, swallowed and found her mouth filling up again.

  Mason groaned, releasing his grip on her head and rubbing his thumb down her throat gently until she swallowed again and he groaned even louder. “Linnet . . . ”

  Yes, this was right, she thought. He was spending his seed. She remembered how previously he had licked and suckled her through the aftershocks of her own bliss and settled more comfortably between his legs to do the same. Encircling his shaft with one hand, she gently squeezed his ballocks with her other. With a muffled curse, his hands lifted away from her completely to brace against the headboard as he continued to rock his hips into her as she took everything he had.

  Linnet stayed where she was until he lay still and limp. It was as she was tucking the sheets in about his waist that she heard his gentle snore and realized he had dropped off to sleep again. Hiding a smile, she slipped from the bed and quickly washed in the cold water in the basin. Half a cup of red wine was on the chest of drawers so she had a few sips of that and slipped back into her nightgown. She thought briefly about joining him back in the bed but what if he woke again? It would probably be easier for his hangover on the morrow if he slept soundly now until morning. She slipped out from the room into the Vawdrey’s sitting area by the fire and waited for Oswald to emerge from his room to take her back to Lady Doverdale’s quarters.

  XXVII

  Mason woke suddenly in the early hours, disoriented and looking for Linnet. Then he remembered he was at Caer-Lyonnes and awaiting an audience with the King. He leant up on his elbow, reaching for water to drink. His mouth felt dry. He remembered drinking heavily but not going to bed. And then . . . apparently he’d had an extremely erotic dream about his wife. An extremely vivid dream. His cock still felt pretty happy about it. He looked down at his bedsheets with misgiving, but instead of a tangled mess they were neat and tidy. Then he noticed something else. A sliver of red material. He pulled the end and held aloft a length of thin red ribbon. He knew that ribbon. Linnet used it to keep his signet ring on her finger. He flung back the covers and ran his hand over the sheets until he found it. His ring. The cracked black stone with the Vawdrey panther carved on it. He stared at it. She had been here! And she had lost her wedding ring. He slipped it onto his finger distractedly before rising from the bed. And it hadn’t been a dream after all. Pulling on a robe he walked through to the sitting room where Oswald was pouring over some documents.

  Mason cleared his throat.

  “Feeling better?” his brother asked, glancing up and turning a page.

  “Linnet was here,” said Mason flatly, ignoring the question.

  Oswald gave a small smile. “Was she?”

  Mason frowned at him. “You know she was, you smug bastard.” He flung himself down into a chair. “What are you looking at?”

  “Linnet’s version of the Sir Maurency tales.” He looked up again. “Did you read them to the end?”

  “I read as much as I could stomach.”

  “Which means no,” said his brother drily. “I think you should take a look at the last five pages.”

  “Why?”

  “Maurency seems to be undergoing a remarkable and somewhat undesirable transformation.”

  “What?”

  “He’s changed hair color, put on some muscle and now seems to be cracking skulls rather than saying his prayers.”

  Mason rose and rounded the table.

  “In short, it looks like Linnet’s ideal hero might be turning into you.”

  Mason’s eyebrows shot up as he studied the illustration. “That’s not Maurency,” he objected.

  “On the contrary, look at his shield and insignia.”

  Mason pursed his lips. “Very well, that is Maurency,” he conceded, taking the page with him back over to the fire to study it. “He looks improved, but I still don’t like him.”

  “He’s you, you fool,” responded Oswald scathingly. “Congratulations. You’ve turned the most chivalrous knight of yore into the Despoiler of Demoyne. Maybe Linnet could write up your tales.” When Mason didn’t respond, Oswald looked across at him. “Good grief, are you blushing?”

  “Of course not,” Mason scoffed. He just felt a little warm, that was all.

  “You look confused.”

  “Be quiet, Oswald.”

  His brother laughed.

  Mason lapsed into brooding silence. “I can’t wait a month for all this to be resolved,” he said heavily.

  “I agree,” said Oswald. “I think we need to speak to Roland.”

  Mason steepled his fingers under his chin. “How do we lure him out?”

  Oswald gave a short crack of laughter. “If I know Roland,” he said. “And I do rather well, unfortunately, he’ll be getting heartily sick of the Jevonses by now. He’s got the Vawdrey lack of patience. The idea of having to be one of Sir Jevons’s cronies for another four weeks will fill his black little heart with horror.”

  “Yes, but—” Mason broke off with a scowl. “What of when he finally meets Linnet?”

  “What of it?” asked Oswald. “He’ll find out she’s not some frail little invalid to be bossed about and shut in a tower for the rest of her days.”

  Mason glowered. “That better be all he realizes.”

  Oswald grinned. “Believe me, he’ll only need to take one look at your face and he’ll realize how things lie.”

  Mason grunted. “Do you think he’ll come to us?”

  “Not to you, no. You’re not in the least approachable. To me? Maybe.”

  “I want my wife back, Oswald.”

  His brother got up and crossed the room. “I know,” he said and gripped Mason’s shoulder. “I think I can get us into the royal levee tomorrow morning. Lord Schaeffer once invited me to join the King’s privy council. I could get us admitted.”

  “Why didn’t you join?” asked Mason with curiosity. Suddenly it occurred to him how well a diplomatic career would suit his older brother.

  “Oh, I intend to in good time. What use is a private counsellor to the King who’s never seen the battlefield?”

  Mason blinked in surprise. He was pretty sure the King had plenty of advisors who never set foot out of the palace! And he had had no idea of his brother’s political ambitions. He wondered briefly if their father was even aware.

  “Besides, I wasn’t about to let you ride off to war on your own. Someone needs to keep an eye on you. Now you’ve got Linnet, I can stop worrying about you.”

  “Worrying about me?” repeated Mason blankly.

  “Of course,” shrugged Oswald. “What else are big brothers for?”

  XXVIII

  Linnet was not best pleased to hear she was to attend the Queen’s levee the following morning. She knew next to nothing about Queen Armenal, who was the King’s second wife and from a rather obscure western isle. She had only been married to Wymer for nine months, following the tragic death of his first wife Queen Eleanor in childbirth. Accordin
g to popular rumor she could be difficult and she was an arch manipulator.

  “Is this my royal presentation?” she asked Lady Doverdale with misgiving. She pushed away the butter dish and frowned at her toasted bread. She felt a quiver of alarm that was stealing her appetite. She also felt a little sick.

  “Queen Armenal has the King’s ear when it suits her,” replied Lady Doverdale in measured tones. “I secured this introduction as a particular favor to you, Linnet.” Her tone was reproachful. “It was not easy.”

  “And I appreciate that, Lady Doverdale,” Linnet assured her hastily. “’Tis only that I feel ill prepared to meet the Queen.”

  Lady Doverdale shrugged. “Then prepare yourself,” she said simply. “You may not get another chance.”

  Directly after breakfast, Linnet changed from her practical, orange wool dress into her jonquil yellow which was made of silk with long lacing along the sleeves. Sadly, she did not think the color suited her as well, but it was definitely better suited for meeting a queen. Staring into the glass while Gertie braided her hair with matching ribbon, she thought she had never looked plainer. Her freckles stood out, almost obscuring her every feature. Gertie pinned a light gauzy veil high at the back of her head and draped it artfully so it fell like a waterfall.

  “I seen the ladies wearing it like this at court, milady,” she said smugly at Linnet’s surprised face. “Maybe even the master would like it this way?”

  “Nothing escapes the servant’s hall, does it?” asked Linnet with a small smile. Even Mason’s dislike of veils.

  “Not much,” agreed Gertie briskly.

  Glancing down, Linnet cried out.

  “What is it, milady?” asked Gertie in alarm.

  “My wedding ring,” said Linnet, twisting around in her chair. “I’ve lost it!”

  They stared at each other in dismay.

  “Oh miss,” said Gertie, crossing her fingers and closing her eyes to ward off bad luck.

  It was hard not to take it as an ill omen. Nerves overtook her completely, and dashing to the adjoining garderobe, Linnet was violently sick.