Her Bastard Bridegroom: A Medieval Romance Page 12

  "But you suspected I would not be pleased," he pointed out coldly.

  "Well, not really. Not straight away," her imploring gaze dropped a moment. "At least, I did suspect a little," she admitted "but only because you said I was not to visit Jauncey Hall yesterday. But this was not the same thing as visiting his home," she pointed out defensively.

  "It is the same principle however."

  They had reached the Great Hall by now.

  "Enid was there the entire time. And Cuthbert. And Lawton," she murmured as he drew out her chair and saw her seated.

  "But I was not there," he pointed out angrily. "And I do not expect my wife to go haring off into the countryside with other men."

  The silence was almost deafening. Linnet turned so pale all he could see was her freckles. Someone coughed. Cuthbert fidgeted behind Linnet's seat. Probably dying to point out that they had gone into town not into the countryside, thought Mason irritably. Impudent little pup. He shot a warning look at the page and turned impatiently to beckon for the food to be brought in by the hesitant servers.

  "You are both very new to marriage," ventured Oswald in a soothing voice which immediately made Mason seethe. "Doubtless both of you will take some time to establish..."

  "I find it remarkable that you have aught to say on the matter, brother," Mason cut him short. "As you have never taken a wife to my knowledge."

  "Aye, that is true enough," his brother conceded with a wince.

  "I am very sorry husband," said Linnet wretchedly. "I did not realize my actions would displease you so."

  Mason's jaw clenched. Displeased wasn't really the word and he was coldly furious at his own reaction. It made no sense. Unless.... it was because she had not yet upheld her part of their bargain? Yes, that could be it. "Mayhap when you have given me a couple of sons, I will be less restrictive," he gritted out, slamming his fist down on the table. "But until then, you will be on a short rein, wife."

  Oswald choked on his meat.

  "A couple of sons?" echoed Linnet looking thunderstruck.

  "Isn't that what you promised me?" He narrowed his eyes at her in challenge.

  She stared. "Um... just the one," she mumbled. "I thought."

  "You can give me two at the very least," he snapped back. "If not three. Now we know that naught ails you." He took a deep draught of ale, then lowered his tankard to find Oswald gazing at him in astonishment. "More ale," he shouted. He suddenly had a good mind to get well and truly sotted. Unfortunately none of his usual drinking partners were around. Oswald was frugal as a parson and imbibed just as cautiously. Getting drunk in his own company held little appeal. Instead he eyed Linnet's scarlet cheeked face speculatively. Perhaps there were other ways he could seek oblivion. Between his wayward wife's thighs. Her slight body was an unexpected source of pleasure and he was enjoying teaching her to please him. He wondered how soon he could whisk her to their bedchamber after the meal. As if aware of the turn of his thoughts, Linnet's gaze dropped down to her plate and she bit her lip.

  He drew in a sharp breath. "What's that on your head, Linnet?" he asked silkily.

  Her hand flew to her head-covering. "Why tis only because I went into town," she stammered guiltily. "I thought..."

  "Did you?" He drained his tankard again and rapped it against the table to be filled. His mouth twisted into a sneer. "It seems to me wife that you gave precious little thought to my feelings this day." A nervous looking servant re-filled his drink with a hand that shook. Mason eyed the growing puddle of ale on the table but made no comment as the poor wretch retreated from the table on wobbly legs. Instead his gaze snapped back to true culprit. His wife. "And how did you find the fare at the inn, Linnet? Was it sufficiently common for your tastes?"

  His brother spluttered at his rudeness but she didn't flinch.

  "They served their pottage in a pie," she said loudly. "It was not as good as our kitchen serves." She sent a brave smile to the knock-kneed servant who was approaching to re-fill his cup once more. "And how was your day?" she ventured, squaring her shoulders.

  She was surprisingly resilient, this little wife of his he acknowledged as he pushed away his half eaten plate. He had no stomach for it this evening. Not when his muscles clenched and roiled with tension. What the fuck was wrong with him? He felt wrong-footed. Out of sorts.

  "Come over here," he said softly. "And I'll tell you." Her eyes grew wide and he realized they were the exact shade of a peridot. He dragged his chair back from the table a few inches and slapped his thigh. "Come, sit here."

  "She's not a tavern wench, Mason," his brother warned him in a low voice.

  "She's mine and I'll treat her how I damn well like," he hissed back. "And she's not as sheltered as she once was, are you Linnet?" He gave her a smile. A predator's smile. He was tired of keeping her at arm's length. After, all she should be getting accustomed to him by now. She rose from her seat and came round the table with surprising grace.

  "I didn't see any tavern wenches today," she admitted with a nervous laugh. Hitching up her skirts she perched herself on his knee. "Is this what they do?"

  He reached out and dragged her more firmly into his lap. "Among other things," he said his voice deep and rough with promise. He ran his hand across her lower back. "Loose your veil, Linnet."

  He took another long swig of ale as she unpinned the white linen square covering her red-gold hair. When she placed it on the table he ran a hair over her long silky braid. "Take down your hair. I want to see it loose over your shoulders." He'd forgotten Oswald now. His muscles relaxing as he felt his energy flow into a different kind of tension. A sweeter kind. Lust. A servant had bought Linnet's plate and cup around to her, and she had picked up a piece of her coarse-grained bread and was crumbling it distractedly into her bowl of vegetable soup. He picked up her cup of sweet apple wine and held it up to her lips. "Drink," he said. Her hands were now occupied with loosening her hair so she obediently drank deeply from the cup before he set it down. "That's better," he said approvingly as her hair spilled down. "I finished meeting your tenants today, wife."

  "Our tenants," she corrected him swiftly.

  He smirked at this and inclined his head. "As you say."

  She took a deep breath, "Do they think I'm something of a bitch?" she asked, promptly flooring him.

  Oswald gasped, but Mason ignored him. "What did you say?" he repeated, tipping his head to one side. He'd surely misheard her.

  "Is that not how it is said?" she said uncertainly.

  He glanced down at his half-emptied tankard. How many had he had?

  "I heard someone say that in the tavern today," she confided.

  "What?" His words exploded out angrily.

  "Not about me," she hastened to assure him. "About my aunt actually. But I thought they might have had cause."

  He lapsed back into astonished silence.

  "But it could have been a lot worse," She added. "Cuthbert said last time he was there, some woman had her chests out. I didn't see anything really shocking like that." She sounded, he thought, a little wistful. His eyes dropped to Linnet's own rapidly heaving breasts. They were sweet rather than impressive. He had no idea why he was so entranced with them. Absently he raised his hands to palm them over her dress. Her back was to Oswald so his prim brother couldn't see anything. Linnet's soft gasp went straight to his groin.

  "Mason," she whispered and suddenly his lust went from a smolder to a roaring blaze.

  "Linnet," he started, but the door had flung open behind him.

  "Baron Vawdrey!" announced a servant loudly.

  "Father!" exclaimed Oswald behind them. There was a clatter and Mason guessed his brother had jumped to his feet. Sliding his hands down to Linnet's waist he turned in his chair to see his travel-worn sire come striding through the doors to the great hall. Though a great dark beard covered half his face, Mason could tell his expression was grim.

  "So here ye are, making merry with your doxy," roared his father. "After snatchi
ng the bread from your own brother's mouth, ye ungrateful bastard!"

  Mason's mouth opened but before he could so much as get a word out, Linnet had hopped from his lap and taken a step toward the intruder.

  "How do you do," she said clearly. "You must be my father-in-law." She dropped a graceful curtsey. "I am Linnet Vawdrey."

  "Father this is Mason's wife," said Oswald hurriedly as Mason continued to loll in his chair watching his father's face turn puce as his jaw dropped in astonishment.

  "This.... is her?" blurted Lord Vawdrey, huffing and puffing and tugging on his beard.

  "Linnet, this is Baron Vawdrey, our father," said Oswald at pains to carry out conventional introductions.

  Mason snorted, his gaze returning to Linnet who was eyeing his father with open curiosity.

  Lord Vawdrey grunted. "You've made a bad bargain with this one, my fine lady," he harrumphed.

  "Do you think so?" asked Linnet. "I disagree." She smiled.

  His father blinked. "Well, you've got all your teeth," he said weakly.

  "She's not a horse," Mason found himself pointing out caustically. "Come and sit down. Or do you want to wash off your travel dirt first?" He felt irritated by the timing of his sire's visit. What the devil did he want? When Linnet went to move to away, he grabbed and pulled her back to him.

  His father scowled at him and then collapsed into a chair.

  "Bring ale and another plate, for Lord Vawdrey," said Linnet turning to one of the gawping servants. Mason sat back down and pulled Linnet to sit between his legs. He sent a lazy look of challenge across to his father whose jaw rose aggressively. Maybe it was all the ale he'd consumed, but he was finding it hard to concentrate on his father's ire. Not when Linnet's hair smelt so sweet and she was so distractingly close. Damn the old man's eyes for turning up at such an inopportune moment! He would have hustled her between the bed-sheets within a half hour, but for this interruption. He rested his chin on her shoulder as she picked daintily at her vegetables. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up to find his brother curious and his father outraged.

  "How was your journey, my Lord?" asked Linnet brightly.

  His father's mouth opened and closed. "As well as could be expected," he muttered angrily as a servant placed a cup and plate before him. "Given the ill tidings I have received of late!"

  "You mean of our marriage," said Linnet taking the bull by the horns. "But indeed, Mason did me a great favor by stepping into the breach and..."

  "Linnet," Mason cut her off. "We don't owe him any explanation, sweeting." He spoke the words low, for her ears only, but 'twas plain that they had carried when his father made a sound of choked indignation.

  She half turned her head toward him. "But I don't want him blaming you," she whispered over her shoulder. "After all, 'twas my proposal and..."

  He squeezed her hip. "Are you trying to un-man me, Linnet?" he asked quietly.

  She hesitated. "No, but.."

  "Then it was my proposal," he corrected her. "Never let it be said otherwise."

  For a moment, it was just the two of them alone in the room, looking into one another's eyes. Then she gave a small nod. "Very well," she answered. "If that's what you want..."

  "It is."

  He looked up to find his father's eyes trained on them as roasted meat was piled onto his plate. Lord Vawdrey cleared his throat. "When did she rise from the sick bed?" he growled, rudely ignoring his daughter-in-law's presence.

  "There was no sick bed," Mason answered dryly. "I see you have been listening to the Jevons' lies."

  Lord Vawdrey dropped his knife with a clatter. "No sick bed?" he echoed, his voice rising.

  "No sick bed," confirmed Linnet quietly.

  "And why was I not informed of this?" demanded his father. "Why did you not write to Roland, of this gross deception?"

  Mason shrugged a shoulder. "You sent me to jilt her. Not make enquiries after her health," he pointed out.

  His father slammed his fists onto the table. "Disgraceful" he roared.

  Linnet jumped and Mason wrapped his arms around her waist. "He's a shouter," he whispered into her ear. "Don't let it bother you. I never have."

  "How dare you sit there, scoundrel! Cozying up to your own brother's betrothed!"

  "She's my wife," retorted Mason. "I'll do as I damn well please."

  "Aye, you've proven that!" bawled his father furiously. "Stepping into Roland's shoes as cool as you please! A pretty way to behave to your own kin!"

  "Sir Roland never replied to my letter," put in Linnet loudly. "I wrote to him and he never responded."

  Lord Vawdrey looked floored by this. He scratched his head with his knife. "Aye, well, happen he's not much for writing," he said.

  Mason snorted again. Roland hadn't written as he clearly held his intended bride in total contempt! He could hardly point that out in her presence however.

  "Jevons has spread the tale wide," his father grimaced, taking a sip of ale. "How you clambered into Lady Cadwallader's sick-bed, ravished her and forced her hand to marry you out of shame."

  Linnet gasped. "That is grossly untrue!" she cried and struggled to stand. Mason clamped his arms around her, forcing her to still.

  "More lies," he said calmly. "Linnet married me of her own free will."

  "Of course I did!" she agreed hotly. "I can't believe my uncle is spreading such a tale!"

  Something about her tone sounded off. Then Mason realized what it was. She sounded mortified. He shot a warning look at his father. "You're upsetting my wife," he said warningly.

  Lord Vawdrey spluttered, lowering his mug of ale. "A fine solicitous husband ye make," he jeered. "Well, I believe in plain speaking. If it's too much for your wee wife to stomach, mayhap she should retire so we can hash it out between us men."

  Linnet stiffened but in truth Mason thought it might be for the best. He ran his thumb up and down her upper arm. "You go up and I'll join you after," he suggested in a quiet voice as he turned her in his arms.

  Linnet's gaze was wounded and faintly accusing. "But I want to know the news from court."

  This surprised him and not pleasantly. "Why?"

  "If it concerns our marriage then of course I want to know what is being said...?" she frowned.

  He relaxed slightly. "He'll tell me easier without you here," he murmured in an undertone. "Trust me."

  Her eyes flew to his. "I do," she whispered, lowering her gaze, but not before he saw the sparks darting from them.

  His hand tipped her chin to capture her eyes again. "Don't fall asleep," he said lightly.

  "I couldn't possibly."

  He smiled at her tartness. Definitely, his wife was not faint-hearted.

  She curtseyed to Oswald and his father who rose, his father grudgingly, to return a bow. Then she exited the hall, her head held high.

  Lord Vawdrey opened his mouth, but Mason put up a hand forestalling him. He swung round in his chair taking in the wide-eyed servants. He rather suspected more had crept in as the meal progressed. "Fetch us another flagon of ale and you're all dismissed," he said loudly. He'd not have Linnet's servants listening wide-eyed to his father's rantings. Lord Vawdrey's bushy eyebrows rose, but he made no comment and tucked into his meal. There was some foot dragging but eventually a large pitcher of ale appeared and all the servants dispersed. Lord Vawdrey had made short work of his meat. He pushed the plate away now with a loud burp.

  "She's a plain, drab little thing for two brothers to fall out over." he said bluntly.

  Mason felt himself tense. "I've fallen out with no-one," he replied firmly. "Roland passed up an opportunity. I seized upon it. I see no reason for him to feel hard used by."

  "No reason?" repeated his father belligerently. "Aye, you're not so over-delicate in your tastes, are you boy?"

  Mason shrugged. "As you say."

  "She's bought you a pretty estate, I'll admit," said his father screwing up his eyes. "But if you mean to put the bitch to whelp you'll be disappointed."


  "Father!" objected Oswald.

  "What?" his father swung round on his first-born. "I'll have plain-speech, by gads! None of your pussy-footing around Oswald!"

  Oswald grimaced. "You are speaking of a lady," he reminded his father with dignity. "Not a brood-mare!"

  "Same difference," growled their father. "I've three sons haven't I? I know what I'm talking about."

  "Linnet will give me sons," said Mason, leaning back in his seat. "She'll give me a parcel of sons before I'm through."

  His father looked taken-aback by his confidence. "That freckled little female? I highly doubt it!"

  "She has resolve," said Mason. "And spirit. And moreover," he picked up his cup. "She has promised me a son."

  "Has she, by all that's holy?" His father looked grudgingly impressed.

  "She has. A son who will be Duke of Cadwallader no less."

  His father slammed his cup down, wiping droplets of ale from his moustache. "What?"

  "She holds her father's title in abeyance. Did Jevons not tell you that?" Mason smirked.

  His father's jaw dropped. "Nay he did not, the sneaky, lying snake!"

  Mason's lips quirked. "Well, you were hood-winked by a lying, smooth-faced knave. He had no intention of giving up Linnet's lands. He thought to keep the reins by having her marry Roland in name only."

  His father growled. “What?”

  "Tis unlikely Roland would have come to Cadwallader castle more than twice a year," Mason pointed out. "Her aunt would have been kept close, keeping them apart, spinning her web of lies."

  "Whereas Mason threw them both out," put in Oswald. "He has forged his own way here. Roland never would have. He prefers it at court."

  Their father's eyes narrowed dangerously.

  "Roland is young," pointed out Mason. "He likes things easy."

  "Whereas you were never afraid to wage war," growled Lord Vawdrey. "Hard-headed to a fault."

  Mason shrugged.

  "My grandson. A duke," muttered Lord Vawdrey, clearly liking the sound of it. Oswald re-filled his cup with ale. "Roland would never have gotten a son on her," he acknowledged grudgingly. He eyed Mason speculatively. "You really think she's up to it?"

  "I do. There's naught amiss with her. She just needs to build up her strength."