“Gods, I can’t-” he repeated again brokenly, raising his head from her neck.
Can’t what? Thought Eden, gritting her teeth and sinking her nails into his warm skin as he redoubled his efforts to drive her into the mattress. There was simply no dignity to this act of coupling, she thought as he finally bellowed and collapsed against her, his breathing hard and raspy. Eden lay beneath him, stunned. Was this to be her lot in the bedchamber for the next fifty years? It was too much! They were still physically connected, for lord’s sake! When did that indignity end? She struggled to catch her breath.
“Am I crushing you?” he asked in a low gravelly voice that unnerved her. Had all that groaning taken its toll on his vocal chords?
“Yes,” she answered hastily. “I can scarce draw breath.” She still didn’t think it was right, engaging in conversation while they were like this.
He huffed out a breath and withdrew, rolling off her. “I’m going to get a cloth. Don’t move.”
She nodded and he padded across the floorboards, but she closed her legs all the same, wincing at the sensation. Her muscles too, were sore from having her legs splayed out like that. She tried to pull her skirts down from where they were bunched up around her waist, but she was hopelessly entangled. In the background she could hear him pouring water into the basin and then swirling a cloth and wringing it out. Seconds later he returned, shoving her skirts aside and urging her legs apart again. Eden gave a muffled sound of objection, but he ignored it, passing the wet cloth between her legs. Was that blood? She tried to sit up, but he’d already returned to the water bowl, and was washing out the cloth. She gnawed on her lip, hoping he hadn’t done her any damage. Unless of course, cogs turned in her head… that had been her virginity. Which would mean they had been innocent of any wrong-doing the night of the betrothal feast. She cast a look at Roland, but far from looking in any way shocked or conflicted, he was simply now wiping a cloth over his own intimate areas. She hastily averted her eyes and started trying to wriggle out from her half-fastened gown. She had no sooner managed to get the skirts up and over her head, then she felt firm hands dragging the sleeves and bodice off her. Finally, she was left in her shift alone, as he draped her gown over the back of a chair. Eden pulled the bedsheets up to her chin. When he returned to the bed, to her consternation, he curled around her, pulling her firmly back against him. Eden tensed as he leant into her and kissed first her brow and then her cheek. Thoughts clamored into her head. Why was he kissing her now the act was over with? Was he not angry that they had so needlessly been wed? One of his arms curled around her middle and rested on her stomach. She felt his eyelashes flutter against the back of her neck. Gradually, it dawned on her, that far from lying in the dark feeling wronged and betrayed, Roland Vawdrey was instead soundly dozing off to sleep!
**
The next morning, Eden woke as she heard someone fumbling with the door latch. She hurriedly rolled away from Roland’s body and made haste to fling the door open to the maidservant who was carrying two pitchers of hot water.
“Your pardon, miss,” said the girl, who was craning her neck to look over Eden’s shoulder into the room behind her. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Just to slip in like, but your door was locked.” She fixed a vaguely accusing look at Eden.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Eden briskly. She found herself stepping directly into the wretched girl’s line of vision, obscuring her view of Roland’s sleeping form. “Let me have the water and I’ll spare you the task.”
The maid shot her a resentful look as she passed the jugs over. Eden shouldered the door shut in her face and carried them over to the washstand. Why anyone would want to stare at Roland Vawdrey was beyond her, she told herself sternly. Especially when he was not dressed and fast asleep! She poured one jug of hot water into the basin and only then permitted herself to glance over her shoulder at her sleeping husband. He lay on his side, the blankets covering him from the waist down. That still left his impressively muscled chest and arms on display. Eden’s eyes roamed over him distractedly. His chest was covered in a fine smattering of dark hair and she remembered how it had felt against her own skin the night before, her face growing warm. Then too, there had been his warm, hard body. Hurriedly she turned away, biting her lip. He had been a horrid, rampaging beast, she told herself sternly. But, she thought plunging her hands into the warm water, he had also shown himself quite caring and concerned for her well-being. She grabbed for the soap flakes that had been set out for her use and rubbed them between her fingers. He could easily have slouched back down to the tent he shared with his friends after having his way, she thought. And quaffed a few tankards of ale. He had scarcely drunk anything at the feast, save what sips he’d had from her own cup. She washed her face and shook the droplets away, before pressing a cloth to her damp skin. But she would have preferred it, if he had left her to sleep soundly by herself, her inner voice persisted. Liar, Eden surprised herself by whispering soundlessly. She would have felt wretched indeed, if he’d slunk away and left her. There had been something oddly comforting about his solid presence next to hers in the darkness, his hand at her hip.
Not that she’d enjoyed having a bedfellow precisely, she thought. Far from it! But still, it could have been a lot worse. If he’d been a crude, drunken sot, for instance. Her hand froze in the act of replacing the cloth on the stand. Was that why he had not over-imbibed? The thought of Roland Vawdrey being a considerate bridegroom was such a strange one, that she had to flick a quick glance over her shoulder to check he still slept on. Her stomach fluttered strangely as she regarded him. In all good conscience, he had been solicitous of her for a good deal of yesterday, she thought slowly. But marital relations gave no quarter when it came to dignity. Her cheeks burned as her mind dwelt on the things Roland Vawdrey had done to her the previous night. She had never dreamt the marriage bed would be so… words failed her. Swiftly, she drew down her shift and rubbed the wet, soapy cloth over her neck, bosom and shoulders. To her surprise, as she rinsed and patted herself dry, she noticed reflected in the mirrored glass, a red rash spread right across her décolletage. It went right across the tops of her breasts and down the valley between them, marring her pale skin. What was that? Surely Roland’s tongue could not have wrought such an effect, she puzzled. It had not been raspy like a cat’s! Hearing him stir in bed behind her, she hurriedly pulled the neckline of her shift up and rinsed out the cloth. She wanted to wash below her waist too and wondered if she might be permitted a bath. She still felt stiff and a little sore this morning. She turned back to the bed reluctantly, sure that he would now be awake.
Sure enough, Roland’s eyes were open and focused on her blearily. “Come back to bed,” he grouched. “It’s too damn early.”
“I’m an early riser,” Eden said, clearing her throat. “Besides, I’d like a bath.” To her annoyance, she blushed hotly. Roland eyed her a moment in silence. Then to her surprise, he rolled out of the bed entirely naked. Eden hastily spun around. He made no comment at her prudishness, but instead pulled on his braies and walked barefoot across the room before disappearing out of the doorway. Eden bit her lip. Why did she feel vexed that whatever servant he happened across would see her husband’s half-naked body? Shaking her head to dispel her strange thoughts, she seized Roland’s comb and started on the snarls and tangles in her hair. Once that was dealt with, she stole one of the blankets from the bed to wrap around her shoulders like a stole. The sun was already shining in a clear blue sky, but there was a chill to the morning air, and her thin shift did little to ward it off. Besides, she felt highly immodest clad in such a transparent garment in front of Roland.
He was back in a few moments, shutting the door behind him. “The bath will be along presently,” he said, then something seemed to catch his eye.
Eden looked down, following the direction of his gaze. The blanket had slipped slightly but was not indecently low.
“Come here, Eden,” he said. When she looked up, he
crooked a finger at her.
A quizzical look on her face, she crossed the floor to close the gap between them and he gently drew the blanket aside. Eden’s eyes shot to his, but he was looking down ruefully at her cleavage.
“How far down does that extend?” he asked softly.
“What?”
“The redness?”
“Oh, that. Just,” she gestured to the top of her ribs. “To about here.”
“I shall have to have a care of you in future,” he murmured. At Eden’s quizzical look, he took her hand and placed it against the bristle on his jaw and rubbed it.
“Ohhh,” she exclaimed, as enlightenment dawned. The rash had been caused by his stubble. Her face heated to think of him kissing her in all those tender places.
He cleared his throat and released her hand. “I’ll shave,” he said shortly.
“Let me just empty the basin,” said Eden practically. Her fingers were still tingling from where she’d touched his face. She wanted something practical to do to shake off this strange feeling. “There’s fresh water for you.”
By the time Roland was shaving, the servants had arrived with the tub and several pails of steaming hot water. They set it in front of the fireplace and emptied the buckets into it until it was half full.
“Thank you,” said Eden, reaching into the water to feel it nice and warm. They duly filed out and Eden waited patiently as Roland dragged the razor down his soaped face.
Becoming aware of her still figure, he turned with a frown. “What are you waiting for? The water will get cold. Hop in.”
Eden’s jaw dropped. Surely he jested? “I thought… That is, are you not almost ready to go below stairs?”
Roland looked down speakingly at his undressed body. He still wore only his braies and an undershirt. “No,” he said firmly, turning his back to her. “Get in the tub, Eden.”
She spluttered, but realizing he was ignoring her, felt she had no choice. He was right, the water would quickly become lukewarm. She hovered a moment in frozen indecision. She would have liked to climb in with her shift still on. She could easily have washed in it, but for the fact she did not have a clean one to put on for the day ahead. This meant she could hardly get it soaking wet. Biting her lip, she drew it quickly over her head and stepped into the tub, sinking down into the water. It only came up as far as her waist, so she drew her knees up for decency’s sake, obscuring the view of her top half.
“Do you have soap?” Roland asked lazily, as he lowered his straight razor.
Eden gazed around wildly, before closing her eyes briefly in vexation. “No,” she said tensely.
“What about a cloth?”
Eden tutted. In her anxiety about her nakedness she had not thought about the bathing necessities. “Neither,” she admitted, watching the back of Roland’s head. Seemingly in no great hurry, he wiped the suds from his face, before collecting a clean cloth and some soap leaves from the side.
Eden drew her knees up until they pressed against her breasts, as he approached, holding out the items for her to take. “Thank you,” she said in a stifled voice, and he nodded before returning to his own ablutions. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Roland whipped his shirt over his head and began running a wash-cloth over his body. With a gulp, Eden returned to the business of her own bath. Silence fell over the room, except for the gentle lap of the water against the side of the tub and random splashes of water as they washed.
A knock on the door made Eden squeak and shrink back against the side of the tub, her hands over her breasts. Roland crossed to the door and opened it just a crack. Eden heard a low murmur of voices. Then Roland opened the door a little further and took a bundle from whoever was in the corridor. “Wait a moment,” she heard him say. Then he dumped the bundle on the bed and started gathering up Eden’s clothing.
“What are you doing?” Eden asked sharply.
“Lady Payne has sent you a clean set of clothes. Her maid will wash yours.”
“Oh, that is kind of her,” said Eden taken aback. Mayhap she had misjudged the youthful Lady Payne. “Pray, thank her for me,” she called after him as he carried her things to the servant waiting at the door. He muttered some words of thanks and shut the door with his foot before crossing the room to dress.
“You must be turning wrinkled in that water,” he commented, his back to her, as he pulled on a tunic.
Eden cleared her throat. “I am almost ready to emerge,” she agreed sounding far too formal even to her own ears.
“Waiting for me to go below stairs? You’ll have to get used to me being around, wife.” Despite his words, he turned around and grabbed her a large drying cloth. He approached the tub with it and Eden drew up her knees again for modesty’s sake, reaching up her arms to take it. He handed it over, but stood looking down at her a moment, in consideration.
Eden clutched the cloth to her chest. “What is it?” she asked in strangled tones.
“Naught. Just,” his mouth twisted. “If someone had told me four days ago, that I would have Eden Montmayne wet and naked in my bedchamber…” his words trailed off a moment as he eyed her. “I would scarce have believed them.”
Eden stared at him. “Well,” she said weakly. “It’s a good thing we know not what the fates have in store for us, I suppose.” He made no comment, his eyes roaming over the parts of her that were on view and sudden realization washed over her that that Roland Vawdrey, at this precise moment, would like nothing better than to lift her out of the tub and have his wicked way with her. Again. The knowledge flooded her cheeks with color and made her shrink back as far as possible into the water. How could he want to repeat such an indignity in broad daylight? She gazed back at him, frankly appalled. She had only just got clean!
Abruptly, he turned away, and Eden let out a sigh of relief. “I’m going to break my fast,” he said shortly. “The jousting’s today. I’ll look to find you with the Paynes.”
Eden watched Roland let himself out of the room and breathed out a huge sigh of relief. While she was used to sharing a royal apartment with her family, most of the time it was just herself and her cousin as her uncle divided his time between Hallam Hall and court. Eden had not shared a bedchamber since she was a child and was accustomed to spending a good deal of her time alone, either reading or practicing her music or dance. Nothing had prepared her for these intimacies, let alone the manner of man she had somehow thrown her lot in with.
She stood up from the bath and wrapped the cloth about herself. Her hair was damp, but she had washed out the soap and would pat it dry once she had donned her nice clean shift. Padding over to the bed, she unrolled the bundle and felt her first pang of misgiving. The dress that Lady Payne had sent along was all wrong for her. It was an icy blue of a very eye-catching nature. The material was very silky and gossamer fine. Had she sent Eden her best dress? Eden shook it out and noticed the low neckline with the puffed sleeves and fussy trim detail that looked like garlands of flowers. She blanched. She had never worn such a dress in her life! Biting her lip, she debated sending for a servant to return it and asking for a plainer one. She knew that would be a gross insult to her hosts. Thrusting the dress away from her, she picked up instead the shift, and realized that she had not been mistaken. Lady Payne had sent along her very finest clothing. This shift was fit for a queen and would have cost Sir Payne a pretty penny. With a sinking heart, Eden drew it over her head and then donned the fine white stockings and scarlet garters. Still avoiding the dress, she wrapped the drying cloth about her damp tresses, patting them dry.
A light knock on the door surprised her. “Who is it?”
“Tis Martha,” came the reply. “Lady Payne sent me to help lace you into your gown.”
Eden sighed. “Come in, Martha.”
The maid bustled in, with an air of efficiency. “There now,” she said. “You’re half-dressed already! I had no idea fine court ladies could dress themselves.”
“I’m not royalty,
Martha,” Eden said mildly. “I just attend the Queen.”
But Martha was already making for the bed where the dress lay. “Well now!” she exclaimed in surprise. “I never!”
Eden looked up from detangling her damp hair. “What is it Martha?”
“My lady only went and sent you the dress she was married in!”
Eden blinked. That would explain the sumptuousness of the gown.
“Mind you, I daresay she couldn’t fit in it now,” said Martha sucking in her cheeks. “She’s put on some flesh since she was wed. I daresay she thought it would be as well to get some more wear out of it. Her father paid a fortune for her wedding trousseau.”
“Well, it’s extremely generous of her,” said Eden. “Though I fear it will become me most ill. I don’t suppose the Lady Payne has any black gowns…?”
“You’re a bride,” said Martha firmly. “It is most fitting you should wear it.”
Eden gave up. Instead she cast aside the drying cloth and straightened up. “Very well then.”
“And you’re as slender as a faery maiden,” said Martha approvingly. “We’ll soon have this on you.”
Eden grimaced as she stepped into the confection that was her outfit for the day. Martha maneuvered the full skirts and fussy sleeves until she was surrounded by it.
An Ill-Made Match (Vawdrey Brothers Book 3) Page 12
