His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2) Page 7

  **

  “Let’s get you up, shall we?” murmured a voice close to Fenella’s ear. She flinched and realized a candle was being set down on a refectory table, casting a soft golden light down around her. “Have you been here the whole time?” It was Lord Vawdrey come back, she realized numbly. She glanced toward the door, but she was almost certain he did not come in that way. He had appeared like a specter. What did it matter now? She wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. How long had she been crouched here? Her gaze flew to the balcony but there were no sounds of revelry coming from below now. Everyone had retired for the night long ago. Including Ambrose and his new wife.

  She turned her swollen face away from him as he slid an arm around her waist and levered her up off the floor. “Ow!” she grimaced. He tightened his grip as she sagged against him, her feet numb with pins and needles.

  “Are my floorboards not comfortable?” he asked so pleasantly she almost missed the mocking tone. “You have some objection to chairs?”

  Fenella struggled to right herself, but he did not let up his grip on her one bit. If she wasn’t so wrung out she’d be mortified. “I need to go home,” she sobbed softly. Even she knew this was nonsense. She had none now.

  He squeezed her side. “And so you shall,” he said soothingly. “Presently.”

  Of course, he was just trying to comfort her with empty words. She had not meant Vawdrey Keep, a forbidding old stone fortress she had not visited since she was fifteen. “What will my poor Bors think,” she wept nonsensically.

  Lord Vawdrey had no answer to this, instead he picked up the candlestick and led her toward a tapestry covered in an intricate pattern of vines. He lifted the corner of this and rubbed his thumb along a piece of paneling. There was a light click and then a segment of the dark wood swung inward. To her surprise Fenella found herself being ushered into a small dark cupboard. Was this what Lord Vawdrey did with unwanted wives? Bundled them into cupboards? But no, she was mistaken, for he was still with her, one arm wrapped around her, clamping her to his side. Fenella had no sooner noted that it was draughty in the cupboard than she realized she was being swept along a dusty confined passage-way. After a while, she gave up trying to even comprehend what was happening. Her eyes drifted shut and she allowed herself to be propelled along by the strong, tall man at her side. He seemed to have no problem pushing and pulling her this way and that, and she was so exhausted, both physically and mentally by this point that she could barely think of a reason why he shouldn’t. Finally they came to a halt and he extracted a key from around his neck. Unlocking the door, he turned back to her and placed a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. Fenella found herself nodding and then he took her hand, locked the door behind them and led her into a bedchamber where he set down the candle.

  “Come, let’s take this off you,” he said pulling her toward him and deftly unlacing her dress. Fenella sucked in a breath to object but he forestalled her. “It’s too late to summon a maid now,” he said reasonably. “And you’re dead on your feet. Come now, we will leave you in your shift so all is decent.”

  Fenella’s mind reeled. Decent? Her conscience tried to tell her this was extremely indecent, but her brain was too sleep-deprived to comprehend it. She opened her mouth to try and vocalize this sentiment but he forestalled her.

  “All will be well,” he said reassuringly. “Things will look very different in the morn. Come now. Arms up.” He yanked her dress up and over her head and Fenella blinked up at him in sleepy confusion, swaying on her feet. He cleared his throat. “Into the bed.”

  Fenella glanced over her shoulder at the huge bed. This was a very large bedchamber she thought, as she tottered toward it. Who on earth could have a guest room this big? Then she remembered vaguely that it was a royal palace after all. She heard a light curse behind her, as she fumbled for the sheet. Suddenly they were stripped back and she was scooped up and unceremoniously dumped onto the mattress. She blinked up at him as he tucked her in and murmured something under his breath. She tried to catch it, but her thought processes were shutting down and she had no chance. Some of his dark hair fell forward across his face distracting her. It made him suddenly look like that handsome boy he had been. She smiled sadly at the memory which could still sting and then rolled onto her side, her burning eyes squeezed shut as the oblivion of sleep claimed her. She was so tired that she didn’t even wake a few moments later when the bed dipped and he joined her under the covers.

  **

  Fenella woke with a gasp. Her dreams had been disturbing but it was a shock to be wakened from them by the sound of shattering pottery. She peered into the morning light to see a servant hovering by the door with a scandalized look on his face.

  “Meldon, for the lord’s sake,” groaned a voice by her ear, startling her anew. She whipped her face round to find a head beside hers on the pillow. It was Lord Vawdrey’s, she realized with horror. And the entire length of his body was pressed intimately against her back. And he was naked. She froze as she felt the press of his flesh against her backside. If she didn’t know any better she would think he was aroused. Very aroused. She opened her mouth to scream, but then remembered he was her wedded husband. How on earth had this happened to her? Mercifully her shift was still intact assuring her that nothing untoward had happened, but still, she was mortified.

  “Me Lord!” said the servant reproachfully as he stooped down to retrieve the shards of the water basin. “I never expected this from the likes of you!”

  “Watch your tongue, Meldon,” Oswald responded groggily. He rolled gingerly onto his back and Fenella breathed a sigh of relief. “This is your mistress,” he said thickly. “Not some doxy.”

  Both Fenella and Meldon gasped at this pronouncement

  “Mistress?” echoed Meldon, screwing up his eyes.

  “Doxy?” cried Fenella in dismay.

  Oswald’s eyes flickered open again. “You’re focusing on the wrong thing, Fenella,” he said, with a trace of humor in his voice.

  Was he laughing at her? Fenella caught the sheets up to her chin, staring at him in bewilderment.

  “Ye mean to say you’re legally wed to this lass?” demanded the servant suspiciously.

  “I do,” he answered. “Now leave the water and go.”

  “Humph! A likely tale!” The servant stalked out of the room belligerently and slammed the door after him.

  “You must excuse Meldon,” said Oswald, his eyes still shut. “He’s been with the family since his infancy, many moons ago. It gives him the right to be abominably rude.”

  Fenella stared at him.

  His eyes flickered open again and roamed over her face. “Fenella?”

  “I – what-?” Fenella broke off helplessly.

  “I did say things would look differently in the morn.”

  Differently from the view-point of his bed? wondered Fenella incredulously.

  Oswald propped himself up on one elbow. She wished his hair wouldn’t fall forward like that. “You’re shocked,” he sighed. “But after all, you are my wife,” he reminded her.

  Fenella inched slowly away from him. He reached out and grabbed the bed-sheet, halting her progress. Fenella’s eyes grew wide.

  “Where are you going?” he asked politely.

  “I-I hardly know,” she gulped. “Wh-where is your smock?”

  “Smock?” he looked flummoxed. “Er, they’re all being washed,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. Fenella had a horrible suspicion he was lying. Ambrose had always worn a smock to bed. And a night-cap without fail. She tried hard not to feel scandalized, and failed.

  “Let me get you some water,” he said, sliding out from the other side of the bed. Fenella averted her astonished eyes from his naked body. To her surprise, he had a very nasty scar running from one shoulder blade to his middle back. It was deep and wicked looking and had left the recovered skin purpled and churned up, along its curved route. Despite the evil scarring, his tall body was a thing of
beauty with strong, lean, well-muscled limbs. Somehow Ambrose had never looked that naked. Maybe because he was so much shorter. And less muscular. She shied away from any other comparisons. Mostly because they’d be vastly indelicate.

  Fenella slumped back against the pillows and squeezed her eyes shut. A rustle of fabric on the other side of the bed led her to hope he was getting dressed.

  “Here,” the voice by her side made her jump. He was disturbingly light on his feet for such a large male. She opened her eyes and found him resplendent in a scarlet satin dressing robe. The sleeves were decorated in a dazzling gold pattern. It must have taken the embroiderer hours and cost a fortune. It was somehow even more startling to see Oswald Vawdrey in red satin than naked. In her memories he had only ever dressed in conservative black. And then there was the fact she knew he was naked beneath it. She took the glass of water he offered and gulped it down, her throat feeling dry and raspy. To her horror, he sat down on the bed next to her. It took every ounce of self-control for her not to cringe away from him or cower under the covers. Instead she handed the empty glass back to him like an obedient child and he placed it on a carved wooden chest next to the bed.

  “Fenella, I want you to know I’m a reasonable man,” he said with a charming smile that somehow chilled her to the bone. “I understand you are not entirely to blame for the fact you have been living bigamously with another man for the past eight years and I’m willing to overlook this lapse of judgment.”

  Fenella drew in a shaky breath and stared up at him. "Lapse of-?”

  He held up one hand halting her. “Let us not waste time with recriminations,” he said easily. “Instead let us forge together a union that will be mutually beneficial and provide for our future.”

  Fenella could not think of a single word to say to him. Not one word. Instead she clutched the bed sheets even tighter. To her consternation, her silence didn’t seem to bother him one whit.

  “I’m aware that the last twenty-four hours must have been somewhat wearing for you, but I have every confidence that you will rise to the occasion and prove yourself an admirable ally,” he continued smoothly.

  Ally? Fenella shook her head to try and dispel the fog that surrounded her. “Wh-what kind of union?” she managed to croak. He looked surprised for the first time that morning. “You said we should forge a union?” she continued, feeling foolish beyond belief.

  “I was speaking of our marriage,” he explained calmly.

  Once again Fenella was plunged into terrified confusion. “But – but…”

  He sighed. “Fenella. We are married. You need to adjust. Sadly, there is no time for you to do this, so I must ask you to place your faith in me, and trust that I will see you right.”

  Trust and faith. Fenella’s eyes filled with tears of despair. “I’m afraid I have very few reserves left of either of those traits, my lord,” she said in a wobbly voice. “You see…”

  “I’m well aware of your circumstances,” he cut in. “However, I am not Ambrose Thane.”

  Fenella jerked as if she had been slapped. There was a moment’s silence and then she felt his hand cover hers on the blanket. She blushed violently feeling his warm skin on hers for the second time that morning.

  “Forgive me Fenella, that was uncalled for,” he muttered in a low voice. “It seems I am not entirely reasonable after all.” He sounded rueful and when she raised her eyes to meet his, he gave her a reassuring smile. “I am not really so bad as I appear to you right now. You will not find me an exacting husband, I assure you. I will expect us to lead our own lives, yet to always show every consideration for the other. I will make no unreasonable demands on your time. I can provide for you every comfort to which you have been accustomed and more.”

  Lord Vawdrey’s voice ebbed and flowed as he outlined his extensive properties, his wealth and his titles, all of which, astonishingly, it seemed he intended to share with her. Gradually, however fantastical a notion it seemed, it dawned on Fenella that he truly did consider their future paths to be intertwined. She reached up periodically to wipe her wet cheeks dry, as his voice carried on in a measured tone. To her confused mind, it seemed he deftly rewrote their history together and obliterated Ambrose Thane from its pages altogether. According to him, they had been married for the last twelve years. She was a countess, his countess and her place was at his side. It was so bizarre that she started to feel quite feverish.

  “Fenella,” he said suddenly after a few moments. “Have you heard one word I have said?”

  “I’m barren,” she said heavily, surprising them both. It was a dark thought, she had never before spoken aloud. But the fact remained that in eight years she had not produced one child.

  He did not even miss a beat. “My brother has issue. I have a godson and nephew. It is enough for me.” He paused again. “What else?”

  What else? Fenella swallowed and tried to focus on the important things. “I want my dog,” she said raising her chin.

  This did seem to give him pause. “Ah yes. You mentioned this yesterday. Where is it?”

  “He’s at Thurrold.”

  “Thane’s seat?” he asked. She nodded. “Description?”

  Fenella thought a moment. Something told her that words like ‘endearing’ and ‘like an adorable bear’ would not impress Oswald Vawdrey who was now looking very intent and business-like, despite his astonishing attire. “Black. Large. Old. Answers to Bors.”

  He nodded. “He will be here by daybreak tomorrow.”

  Daybreak? “But what if …”

  “Daybreak tomorrow,” he repeated with a faint smile.

  “Thank you.”

  He looked wryly amused. “You’re welcome,” he said, his glance wandering down from her face to flicker over her.

  Fenella cleared her throat and dragged the sheets around her a little tighter. Surely he couldn’t see anything?

  “I’m prepared to be patient, Fenella,” he said rather huskily. “You have no need to be afraid of me. I’m your husband. It’s my duty to take care of you from this point. Anything you need, you come to me. Am I understood?”

  She nodded, at a loss for words.

  “Good,” he said. “Now get dressed. I need to take you with me to meet the King with all haste.”

  “The King?” she repeated in some dismay.

  “Yes, King Wymer needs to be informed immediately. His inner circle are not permitted to marry without his consent.”

  Fenella’s eyes widened. “Will he be angry?” she blurted in some alarm.

  Oswald tipped his head to one side. “He will not be pleased, but as our marriage took place years before I was a member of court, I do not think he can realistically hold it against us.” He reached for the chest of drawers next to his bed and opened the top drawer. “These papers are the proof of our marriage contract. I think it would be better if I told the King you brought them with you to court as leverage.” He dropped them on the bed next to her.

  Fenella looked down at the sealing wax and spotted her family bear and the Vawdrey panther. She glanced up at his face, but his expression was inscrutable. “Should I bring them with me?” she asked in surprise.

  “Wymer may ask to see them,” admitted Oswald, and she felt another twinge of alarm at the royal reaction to their marriage.

  He stood up. “I’ll send in fresh water for you to wash and dress.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Fenella,” he said softly. “I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you the significance of you spending last night in our marital bed.” Her gaze darted to meet his, stunned. “If the King should ask, I know I can trust to your discretion.”

  Fenella watched him as he left the room, her startled brain wondering what on earth he meant by that! The grumpy manservant knocked loudly on the door moments later and then brought her fresh water. He murmured something that sounded like ‘milady’ as he set down the basin of warm water so he must have accepted the truth of his ma
ster’s claims at any rate. She washed and dressed quickly, lamenting that all she had was her mustard dress which looked all the worse for being travelled in yesterday. In truth, it had never been a handsome garment. Now it looked positively frightful. She speedily braided her thick dark hair into a single braid and looped it over her shoulder as she mourned the fact she had no head veil with her. In her haste yesterday, her cloak hood had sufficed. Today was an altogether different matter. It was unlikely that Lord Vawdrey would have such a thing lying around, she thought sadly and resisted the urge to peek in one of his large chests. She wondered if half of it might be taken up with midnight black and the other half with surprisingly colorful dressing robes. Oswald Vawdrey was a man of secrets and surprises. Squaring her shoulders, she marched out of the bedroom and into the wood-paneled adjoining room, which seemed to be a communal area with a fireplace, large window and dining table.