After his win, he had been presented by the King with a golden cup, a large bag of coins, and a new banner, which when unfurled, showed his winged horse juxtaposed with Una’s green wyvern. Una had gasped at the sight of the Blechmarsh dragon on her husband’s standard.
“Your new crest, De Bussell,” the King had said with a nod. “Marking the occasion of your marriage.”
“It looks very well, sire,” Armand had said, raising his goblet aloft. It amused him to wonder what Henry and Muriel would make of him having his own variation on the family coat of arms. They had been rather pompous about the fact their family now contained former royalty, even if it was Northern. Even his father had been touting the news about all of Derring, bringing his cronies and acquaintances over to meet Una at inopportune moments and sending a ridiculous number of invites for them to take their meals at Anninghurst.
Armand had started debating if he needed to build a hunting box somewhere, simply so he could stash his wife away from intruding hordes of people. It had been nearly as bad at Areley Kings, with crowds dogging their every step and gathering around their pavilion to get a glimpse of the northern princess. Luckily, Vawdrey had agreed he should keep Walker on and five of his men to act as a personal guard for Una, otherwise she would have been swallowed up by provincial crowds. She took it all in her stride, however, with a kindly smile and word for all who approached her. Her reputation was slowly changing from warlike to benevolent in popular opinion.
“Aye, it does,” the King agreed, interrupting his thoughts “Your heraldic beasts look well combined. As do you,” he beamed. “It was a damned fine notion of mine, that May Day tournament. Said it would turn out for the best, didn’t I, Vawdrey? Eh?”
He turned to the enigmatic earl who gave his wintry smile. “As you say, sire,” his aide responded diplomatically.
A strange thought suddenly struck Armand. “Una,” he said in a low voice. “Do you remember that role you asked me to play the day after we were married?” At her frown, he continued urgently. “The possessive groom, eager to wend his footsteps homeward?”
Her brow cleared. “Of course,” she said staunchly. “You were wonderful.”
“What if it was merely a glimpse of what was to come?” he asked, and her gaze turned inquiring. “What I mean is, what if I slipped so naturally into it, because it’s who I really am?”
Una smiled. “You mean underneath the easy-going façade Sir Armand is a budding domestic tyrant?” she asked teasingly.
“Exactly.” He brushed a kiss to Una’s brow. “I think we should hang the new banner over our bed tonight,” he said warmly. “I look forward to vanquishing my dragon later,” he murmured in her ear. “For an even sweeter victory than this one.”
Una tipped her head back to look at him. “I fear, you will not find me so easy to defeat as Sir Garman,” she answered with promise. “For I have your measure, Sir Lusty Loins and will never be taken in by your tricks.”
“Don’t I know it,” Armand agreed fervently. His wife certainly kept him on his toes when it came to the bedchamber. There had been a time when he had thought her incapable of flirtation, he remembered dimly. Now, she had only to call him Sir Armand with slow deliberation and she made him so instantly aroused that he felt light-headed. As for their dragon-slaying trysts, they had grown so hot, he would not be surprised if he were burnt to a cinder one of these days.
He rested his hand on her belly, where she barely showed as yet, under the flared skirts of her blue gown. They had not told anyone of their news, even at Lynwode, for it was early days and they delighted in the knowledge that only the two of them shared. Next spring there would be a baby. “Are you happy, my love?”
She nodded. “Next week we return home,” she said longingly. “I cannot wait to see how Otho and Rose have set up their new quarters in the lodge house, though Rose is sure to have lured Abelard there with her. Then we have our news to tell your family. Your father will be pleased, I think. He loves to see you piled high with new responsibilities.”
Armand grinned. “To be sure. But you must dance attendance on the King for another week first.” His expression darkened slightly. “I don’t like sharing you.”
She sighed. “It’s not so bad. In truth, I never thought I could be this happy in a royal court, but with you by my side, husband, it seems I could be content almost anywhere.” She touched his cheek lightly in a caress. “Besides,” she added bracingly, “now you’re no longer competing, you can come and take bread and milk with the king every morning. He has target practice with the bow and arrow tomorrow and is determined to teach me.”
“Impossible,” Armand answered swiftly. “I cannot spare you on the morrow for you will be tending to my hurts.”
“Hurts?” Her face fell. “Are they so very bad?” she asked immediately solicitous.
He nodded. “Yes, I need you to reforge my sword with your fiery dragon breath,” he said straight-faced.
“Armand!” She blushed prettily. “Your dragon will certainly tend to your needs later,” she assured him, and he lifted her hand to bestow on it a lingering kiss. He did not care who saw how much he doted on her. In truth, he could not hide it even if he had wanted to. It was apparent to one and all.
He would not call her princess just now, even in a whisper for it would discompose her, but later he would. When it was just the two of them. “You always do, my sweet Una.”
“And I always will, husband,” she vowed.
THE END
I do hope you enjoyed this story. If so, perhaps you would be kind enough to leave me a rating on Amazon, Goodreads or Bookbub, or to sign up for my newsletter via my website: www.alicecoldbreath.com
More books coming in 2021 from Alice Coldbreath:
Her Bridegroom, Bought and Paid For
Aimee Ankatel, oldest daughter to the richest merchant in all Karadok only has eyes for the heavily scarred Lord Kentigern. A ferocious competitor, her heart beats louder when she watches him compete in the field. Not one of the handsome knights draws her admiration like he does.
When her father lends funds to the Crown and promises her a glittering match with a nobleman, she daydreams of making the ill-fated knight fall in love with her. After all, if Aimee’s Father buys back Kentigern’s lands and castle for a dowry, surely that would make her an acceptable bride to him?
Any idealistic dreams of youth Kentigern once had were lost long ago in battle when he was disfigured and blinded in one eye. His destiny was a cruel one, his homelands confiscated for his part in the Northern uprising, he ekes out a lonely nomadic existence, travelling from one tournament to another.
Never would he have dreamed that all he had once lost could be restored to him by some upstart merchant wanting a stud and a title for his pretty daughter. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined a reversal of fortune that included a wife like Aimee.
Other stories by Alice Coldbreath you may enjoy:
THE VAWDREY BROTHERS SERIES
Book 1 – Her Baseborn Bridegroom
Lady Linnet Cadwallader has been raised a helpless invalid in her own castle. Brought up to believe she will ‘never make old bones’ she lives a quiet and lonely existence, hiding away her excessive freckles and red hair from a world that believes her to be hideously misshapen and ugly.
Until one day her uncle arranges a marriage of convenience for her, a marriage in name only with a young puppet groom... but Sir Roland does not show up. In his place turns up his base-born brother Mason Vawdrey. And dark, forceful Mason is no-one’s puppet.
Things are about to get interesting at Cadwallader Castle. And Linnet is about to discover that maybe a golden leopardess does not need to change her glorious spots.
Victorian Romance from Alice Coldbreath:
Book 1 - A Bride for the Prizefighter
Mina’s well-ordered life is thrown into disarray when her father drops a bombshell on his deathbed, she has a brother she never knew of. Not only that, he is on his
way to rescue her from the collapse of their school under a mountain of debts.
A wild journey across country later, Mina finds herself thrown at the feet of the brutish William Nye, prize-fighter and owner of a disreputable inn, The Merry Harlot. Respectable Mina is appalled to find herself obliged to wed this surly stranger!
Forced to draw on reserves of inner strength she never knew she possessed, Mina uncovers perilous secrets and bravely carves herself a new life at the side of this man, as she proves herself a more than worthy partner for the prize-fighter.
The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok Book 3) Page 31