Her Bastard Bridegroom: A Medieval Romance Page 5

  “Hmm,” he muttered at last and let his hand drop to his side. He cocked his head to one side and took in her pink cheeks and bright eyes. “Linnet, who told you, you had a weak heart?”

  She looked taken aback by his question. “My father always said I took after his beloved sister. She expired when she was but fifteen of a weakened heart following a childhood fever. And my mother, she also died young.”

  “But you are four and twenty,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, but I was a somewhat sickly child, much given to coughs and ailments. My father always feared I would not outlive childhood.”

  “And fevers?” he asked, gesturing to a chair beside the fire. She dropped into it obligingly enough.

  “No, at least, not that I remember…”

  “I see.” He fetched her barely touched goblet of mead and placed it into her hands before making his way over to the table where he opened the ledger and glanced down at the meticulous handwriting. Her scribing skills would rival a monk’s for tidiness he thought idly. Each page contained great totaled up lists of wine, spices, fabrics and charitable donations all listed in looping black ink.

  “The household accounts are at the front of the book and the estate accounts are at the back,” she interrupted him. He looked up to find her eyes watching him nervously.

  “Who taught you to keep the books?” he asked.

  “My father.”

  Suddenly he wanted to ask if she was close to her sire, but after snubbing her own questions earlier he didn’t really feel that he had the right.

  “I have two brothers,” he said grudgingly. “Oswald is older. Roland is younger. We all had different mothers. Baron Vawdrey wasn’t married to mine.”

  She gave him an encouraging smile, shifting forward in her seat. “And your mother?” she asked.

  “Dead. During my sixth summer.”

  Her smile wavered. “Were you close to her?”

  “No.”

  She cleared her throat. “Oh. My mother died when I was three years. I don’t really remember her.”

  “And you have no other kin?”

  “None, save yourself now.”

  He almost started at that. He shut the book with a snap. “I have ordered an inventory of the household tomorrow Linnet.”

  She stared at him in consternation. “You have no confidence in my accounts …?” she said slowly.

  “I have no confidence in those that furnished you with its contents,” he corrected her.

  “Oh.” She looked crestfallen. “I assure you…”

  “It’s not your sums I doubt."

  She swallowed. “You think…”

  “Let us see on the morrow.”

  “Very well,” she all but whispered the words.

  “Shall we back to bed?” he asked heavily. “It’s been a long day for both of us.”

  “Indeed it has,” she agreed almost in a whisper.

  The bed had been discreetly re-made as they had eaten their supper.

  “I’ve dismissed the servant,” he admitted gruffly. “Do you need help to undress?”

  She balked a little at this. “I’m sure I can manage as the dress is front fastening,” she pointed out, gesturing to her laces.

  They both undressed speedily and Linnet climbed under the covers as he banked up the fire. She snuffed the candles, plunging her side of the room into darkness. He followed suit a few moments later and after a moment’s hesitation he too put out the candles. Although he’d felt tired, as soon as he was lay on his back in the darkness, sleep simply refused to come. Linnet lay as still as a corpse and throwing off about the same amount of heat. He wondered briefly if she really did have a circulation problem. He suspected she wasn’t asleep either. At least she’d known that morning that she would be wed, he thought. He was still adjusting to the idea. A faint rustle alerted him to the fact she’d turned on her side. He flung a pillow out of the bed in an attempt to get comfortable and she sat bolt upright.

  “Wha-?” Her panicked voice rang out.

  “That was me,” he said in a low voice. “Were you asleep?”

  She sighed with relief. “For a minute then I thought someone else was in the room,” she whispered.

  His lips quirked into a smile. “Do you normally sleep alone?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she whispered back sounding faintly scandalized.

  “I meant, I don’t know, a nurse maid or a female cousin or something…?”

  “I’m not in the nursery!” she hissed back.

  This time he laughed at her chagrin.

  “Are you teasing me?” she asked suspiciously.

  He shook his head slightly even though she couldn’t see him.

  “What about you?” she asked after a moment’s pause. “Don’t you sleep alone?”

  “I rarely have that luxury,” he answered dryly. “I’ve been in the battlefield. Remember?”

  “Oh … Do you… do you have to sleep surrounded by your men?” she asked curiously.

  “Yes,” he answered shortly. It wasn’t something he relished.

  “That must be strange. I can’t imagine sleeping surrounded by the household staff.” He felt her wriggle around a moment. “In truth, I’d hardly met any of them before today.”

  He suspected as much. “Who had you met?”

  “Cuthbert. He is my own personal page.” She fidgeted a moment. “I have not seen him since we came thither.”

  “They probably did not think to send a child to attend you after your bedding.”

  “Oh.” She digested this a moment. “I see.”

  “You might have been wailing and caterwauling,” he elaborated lazily.

  He heard her swiftly in-drawn breath. “Why would I have been doing that, pray?” she asked.

  “Mourning the loss of your maidenhood.” Shit, was he teasing her? He frowned in the darkness. It felt like he was teasing her. But he was Mason Vawdrey the Despoiler of Demoyne and he did not flirt.

  He heard her head turn on the pillow and guessed she was trying to make out his face. “That’s silly. I don’t think women really do that,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the only virgin I’ve ever had.”

  She was silent over this a moment. “Oh.”

  He had the feeling she had more to say on the subject.

  Sure enough five seconds later she piped up uncertainly: “Was it ...alright?”

  He gave a choked cough. She was asking him? Really? “You tell me Linnet.”

  “Well," she said breathing out with a whoosh. "I haven't anything to compare it with."

  "Are you still sore?" he asked, his voice low and intimate. He turned his head toward her even though he could only see her outline.

  "A little," she admitted awkwardly. "What about you?"

  "It's different for men." He could hear the tremor of laughter in his own voice.

  "Oh. Of course." He could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "Sorry, that was foolish."

  "Don't apologize." He rolled on his side toward her, reaching out until he found her. He stroked his hand down her side till he reached her hip and then pulled her into him. Linnet let out a faint squeak, her nose pressed to his chest. He ran his hand down her back. She mumbled something.

  "What was that?"

  "I said... You're different in the dark..."

  He pulled back to look at her face but of course, could not make out her expression. She was a fool if she believed that. In light of day or dark of night, he was still a bastard. His fingers were on her hair, drawing out the pins until he could run his fingers unimpeded through the soft, shiny length. He could feel her relax with each pass of his fingers, her soft breath against his chest, even a sigh as his fingers brushed against her scalp. Her hair felt like finest silk. Her skin like rose petals. If anything, she was the one that was different in the dark, he mused. In the dark Linnet was beautiful.

  VI

  Linnet woke early and lay blinking a few m
oments in half sleep as she puzzled over the fact she was plastered against something warm and solid. It turned out to be Mason Vawdrey’s muscular back. Even worse, not only did she have her arm wrapped around his waist, but at some point during the night she had flung one of her legs over his as if trying to scale him in her sleep! Mercifully he was a sound sleeper. With the utmost care she set about extricating herself from his big warm body. First, gingerly withdrawing her leg and then, her clasp on his waist. But when she began to shuffle back across the mattress from him she felt him give a disgruntled murmur. Holding her breath Linnet lay stock still. He rolled onto his back toward her in the space she had created and then flung an arm across his face. This meant her front was now pressed to his side and due to the fact her shift had ridden up in the night her legs were bare. She gulped and squeezed her eyes shut. Well this was somewhat mortifying. They appeared to have switched positions in the night! Reaching down she tried to disentangle her thin linen shift and yank it down for some decency.

  “Stop wriggling, damn it,” he grunted sleepily and then rolled practically on top of her! Linnet gasped finding herself flat on her back underneath all that muscle and warm skin. He was heavy. After a few deep breaths, it dawned on her he was really only half on top of her or she would be squashed indeed. His breath tickled her neck and she could feel the dark stubble of his chin against her collar bone. After a few moments, she realized with astonishment that he had gone back to sleep! Action in the battlefield must make you practically impervious to your surroundings for the purpose of sleep, she marveled. Unless… her husband was used to having a bed-fellow of the female variety? It wasn’t hard to believe. He wasn’t handsome as his features were too harsh, but he was quite striking looking in his masculinity with his black eyes and dark curling hair. She reached up her hand absently to stroke it. True, he wasn’t good-looking in the bland, smooth-faced manner that she had heretofore previously admired. Mason Vawdrey had a dark, brooding, almost menacing quality about him. His eyes flashed. His voice was deep and gravelly. He was frankly horrible to the servants. Snapping and snarling at them as if he could barely tolerate their presence. She remembered anxiously that he had ordered an inventory to commence today and felt a pang. What if he found her book-keeping inadequate? Or even worse, incompetent? He didn’t seem to have much by way of patience, she thought with a tremor. She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. There was nothing she could do now. She would simply have to weather it as best she could. Slowly his head rose from where it lay in the crook of her neck and he regarded her bleary-eyed. She stilled her fingertips which had been lazily circling his scalp. Oh my goodness Linnet! Were you petting him as if he were your hound? She watched as his eyes came sharply into focus and he blinked down at her.

  “Linnet?” he said groggily.

  “Aye husband?” Her tone was nervous.

  “What -?” He glanced around and seemed to take in the fact she was pinned underneath him. Giving a sharply muttered oath, he rolled off her and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

  Linnet suffered her second pang of the day. She had been enjoying his physical proximity she realized with surprise. It had been strangely comforting.

  “Have I been lying on top of you all night?” he asked gruffly.

  “Er no,” she thought, feeling grateful he didn’t know she had been clinging to his back in the early hours. How humiliating that would have been!

  He gave her an odd look. “I don’t usually-“ He broke off his words, his gaze travelling down over her. Linnet struggled to sit up now, aware of the fact she must look a sleep-wrinkled sight.

  “It was nothing. You weren’t all that heavy,” she hurried to assure him.

  He cleared his throat. “All the same, you should wake me next time.”

  She blinked at him. “Um. Very well husband.”

  “Mason,” he corrected her swiftly.

  He was still eyeing her oddly she thought nervously. She patted her hair and then noticed her shift was hanging off her one shoulder like a slattern. She hurriedly dragged it back up. Then with awful clarity she realized what it was. The sight of all her ghastly freckles in the light of day. She swallowed nervously, drawing up her knees and tugging the neckline of her shift higher. There was no hiding the fact she was so horribly afflicted. She glanced back up expecting to see an expression of distaste on his face, but instead he looked quickly away now, a strangely guilty expression passing over his face. He sidled off the bed stiffly, keeping his back to her and made for the ewer and basin of water for a quick wash.

  With wide eyes she surveyed his impressive form while she had the chance. The wide, tanned shoulders, tapering down his lean torso to the muscular buttocks and heavy thighs. His legs were long and athletic. Even his calves looked strong she thought admiringly.

  “Linnet,” he said in a strangled voice. “I’m trying to be considerate here. Unless you want to be flat on your back again, I suggest you get up and dressed.”

  Linnet’s jaw dropped. Was he really still so tired? She felt a sympathetic pang. It was doubtless after all that campaigning in the north. He must be bone-deep exhausted, poor man. She shuffled to the edge of the mattress, throwing her legs over the edge. She was half-inclined to offer to let him sleep away a few more hours resting against her bosom. That would be the truly charitable thing to do. She knew for a fact she would just lie there awake though feeling tingly and peculiar. It was a strange sensation being pressed against another body all night. And then there was the awareness of the physical act they had performed together yesterday. She blushed hotly and slid off the mattress until her bare feet hit the floor. She wasn’t anxious to repeat that anytime soon. She still felt tender betwixt her legs. But it had sealed their marriage bargain and mayhap if she was lucky it wouldn’t need to be repeated too many times before she could produce his heir? She would have to try and speak to Mother Ames, the wise woman who lived in one of the cottages on the estate for advice. She sometimes came up to the castle for a visit as she was her page's grandmother.

  She frowned, waiting for Mason to finish at his ablutions. Usually a maidservant entered her bedchamber promptly every morning with warm water, but it did not seem any servant would venture in on them this morning and she needed a change of clothing and fresh linens. The servants were probably afeared of intruding on their new overlord. Well, she would have to summon one herself in that case. She made her way resolutely over to the door intending to stick her head out and call for someone.

  “Where are you going Linnet?” asked Mason looking back over his shoulder. His tone was abrupt.

  “I was just going to call for someone for clean water and clothes…”

  “You’re not dressed,” he pointed out. “Remain here. I will summon a maid.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that had been her intention, but the look in his eye stopped her. Could Mason be outraged by the idea of a male servant seeing her partly-dressed? She blushed at him thinking her immodest. But perhaps he didn’t want everyone to see her shameful spots. “Very well,” she uttered miserably.

  He looked up sharply at that. “Don’t sulk. I’ll fetch someone now.” He strode over to the door, flung it open and bellowed for assistance. She gaped at him. No-one had ever accused her of sulking before! There was the sound of feet thudding against the floorboards beyond and she heard male voices in the corridor. There was a murmuring and then the sound of someone running off in search of a maid no doubt.

  Linnet quickly busied herself finger-combing her hair. Mason gave her a wary glance before approaching his pile of clothing and starting to dress. A swift knock on the door was followed by Gertrude the maid from the previous day barging in.

  Linnet pressed her lips together when the sturdy maid crossed the room, her gaze lingering on Mason’s bare back as he tugged his tunic over his head. She had an appreciative gleam in her eye that made Linnet feel quite out of temper.

  “You must tarry a moment after you knock the door Gertrude
,” she heard herself say with an unaccustomed edge to her voice. “As you can see, my husband is not yet ready to admit you.”

  Gertrude looked for a moment as if she would burst out laughter, but she managed to school her expressions swiftly and bobbed a curtsey. “Your pardon milady,” she said forthrightly. “I’ve not been learned for above stairs work.”

  With a sinking sensation Linnet noticed she had her copper silk Houppelande gown over her arm. It was a dress she always worried clashed vilely with her dreadful hair. “Very well Gertrude,” she said with dignity. “I appreciate you are not accustomed to the role.” She wondered distractedly how many of the household servants would have left with her aunt and uncle. Gertrude laid the dress on the bed along with a fresh underdress, a pair of red stockings and striped tie garters.

  “A girl is coming now with some fresh water for your wash,” she said even as a soft tap was heard at the door.

  “Come in,” said Mason who was now fully clothed and strapping on his belt.

  The same nervous looking girl from the day before sidled in with a large jug. She averted her panic-stricken eyes from Mason as she hurried over to Linnet and busied about pouring her water and soaking a small linen cloth for her to use.

  “I will see you presently in the Great Hall for breakfast Linnet,” Mason said over his shoulder as he exited the room.

  The Great Hall? Why I’ve never taken a meal in the Great Hall before, she thought with surprise. Aloud she observed: “How swiftly men rise in the morning,” and was astonished when both maids dissolved into fits of giggles.

  VII

  Linnet found her way to the great hall half an hour later without much by way of obstacle. She paused on the threshold and spotted Mason sat on the dais at the head table with his older brother Oswald. They were tucking into what looked like plates of bread and fish with ale. Linnet grimaced. She hoped the kitchen would send up her usual breakfast of toasted bread and honey. She was in luck. Even as she seated herself opposite the two brothers, a plate was placed before her and a cup of fresh milk. Oswald had sprung to his feet at her approach but Mason merely nodded to her as her own page Cuthbert tucked her chair in behind her.