"For now..." he glanced down to Linnet who was now leaning rather heavily on his arm. "You will lead us to the rooms prepared for Sir Roland.
Robards gave another swift bow and turned toward a large doorway to the left of the Great Hall. "Follow me Sir Mason. My lady."
IV
The chatelaine was a solid weight at Linnet's hip. The keys to the castle suspended on chains jingled against each other as she walked. She had to force herself not to look around for her aunt when she heard the familiar sound. For astonishingly her aunt no longer held the keys. She did. In truth she was flagging now after all this rushing about. She felt pretty much all in. Her new husband's arm was reassuringly solid as she hung off it and crossed the Great Hall to find the groom's bedchamber. She swallowed. She wasn't so sure about the next part! Her aunt had explained to her that her marriage with Sir Roland was to be in name only, to secure her estates and ally with a powerful family at court. But she had not echoed that in her proposal to Sir Mason. To him she had promised something else entirely. A son and heir. Glancing up at his handsome and pitiless face, she felt a certain nameless dread. After all, what did she know about husbands and ... beddings? She swallowed past the lump in her throat and traced the ring he had placed upon her finger. Well, she had one now. A husband, that is. And she would have to learn. And quick! Something told her that her husband did not suffer fools gladly and would have no great reserves of patience. They had reached an oak studded door now and Robards opened it to reveal an expansive chamber done out in burgundy with a fire already lit in the stone fireplace. At the far end of the room was a large bed with heavy velvet curtains hanging down around it decorated with gold thread. Only the best for Sir Roland. Linnet released Mason's arm and made her way to the window which was cut out into the stone so it had seats on either side, where you could be seated and enjoy the view. Plump velvet cushions had been placed there for this very purpose and Linnet traced the gold thread where someone had embroidered RV for Roland Vawdrey, but had not seen fit to add her own initials intertwined for the bride and groom as was customary. She gave a grimace at the slight. Perhaps the marriage had not been seen as a matter for celebration at all? She wondered whose needle had embroidered the initials - Aunt Millicent's? Fleetingly, she thought of the fancy tunic she had sewn for her bridegroom with her own hands. She’d needed a lot of help from her aunt’s ladies in waiting to get it finished. She didn't even know if it would fit Mason. Her aunt had told her that Roland Vawdrey was a man of slender build. Certainly nothing like this man who must be well over six foot and had a pair of wide muscular shoulders that would likely burst the seams of her handmade garment! Picking up the cushions she turned them around to their plain side and placed them back down. As soon as she got the chance she would unpick the R and replace it with an M!
"We will dine in here, the two of us," her new husband was telling Robards. He gestured toward a small table set up by the fireplace. " After we have eaten you will bring me the household accounts to look over. Bring us a meal in..." he paused and glanced at her. "One hour's time. We don't wish to be disturbed until then."
Robards looked a little harried but performed another bow to both of them and then withdrew, closing the door behind them.
Linnet fiddled nervously with her ring, tracing the crack in the black inscribed stone.
To her dismay, Mason Vawdrey started unfastening his belt. After slinging it on a chair he sat down and started pulling off his boots. He looked up and caught her frozen stare. "Take off your dress and get on the bed."
Linnet gulped, glancing over at the window. It was still daylight! With trembling fingers she fumbled to undo her own belt, unclipping the chatelaine and setting it on top of a mahogany side-table carved with heads of Cadwallader heraldic cat, the leopard.
"Sh-shouldn't we get to know each other first, my lord?" she said in a crackly voice.
He gave her a rather dry glance. "I'm not a lord, Linnet."
She gave a start at the intimacy of him using her given name. Rather ironic considering the intimacies that would soon follow! She tried not to look as he pulled his tunic up and over his head standing there entirely bare chested. Good lord! She dropped her chained belt through nerveless fingers and it thudded heavily against the floorboards. Her mouth was dry and her heart beating so heavily she wondered if she would crumple in a fainting heap! She never actually had fainted but she was always being threatened with the prospect. Did brides ever die from shock on their wedding night? Weak-hearted one's like her might she thought distractedly. His chest was huge and his lean torso heavily muscled. She had never seen anything like it! He was down to his chausses and braies now and unlacing the crotch. He glanced up at her and narrowed his eyes to find her still fully dressed.
"Never undressed without a lady's maid before?" he asked silkily. She blushed again at the faint contempt she heard in his words.
Shaking her head she hastily set about toeing-off her narrow slippers so she at least stood in her stockinged feet. When next she looked up she was shocked to find he had appeared in front of her. He moved lightly for a big man. She had no sooner had chance to register the scattering of dark hair across his chest then he had spun her round and started undoing the lacings down her back. To show willing she set about loosened the lacings at her wrists and in no time at all he yanked her over-dress open and down over her shoulders. She pulled at the wrists until the tight sleeves eased down over her slender arms.
"Step out of the skirts," he said tugging the bodice down around her knees. Linnet complied and stood in nothing but her stockings and shift before him. Scooping up her blue dress he threw it over to the chair with his own discarded garments and then picked up her hand and drew her over to the fireplace. He looked down at her thoughtfully. "Turn around."
She blinked and then slowly turned in a circle before him. It occurred to her that her shift was pretty transparent and in front of the firelight he would have an almost unimpeded view of her naked body. She ventured a glance at his face but could make out no expression in those hard, dark eyes. He lifted his hand slowly and then slid it over her shift between her breasts. She gasped but then realized it had come to rest over her wildly beating heart. He frowned. "It's working hard," he said. "The rhythm seems regular at least."
She could think of nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. Instead she stared up at him until his warm hand felt like a scalding brand.
"You're very small," he said with a shrug. "But other than that I can see no defects."
She gaped. "W-were you expecting any?" she croaked.
He didn't answer that, but instead withdrew his hand. She took a deep shaky breath and tried to gather her scattered thoughts.
"Here's the thing Linnet, we married without the consent of your guardian."
"I - I am of age," she blurted. "And no longer legally Sir Jevons' ward now I am past one and twenty..."
"That is true," he agreed. "But he is still your nearest male relative..."
"Only by marriage," she interrupted anxiously.
He gave a small smile at her keenness to prove the validity of their union. "I am not trying to back out of our agreement," he assured her. "But only to explain why we need to consummate the marriage and legalize it as soon as possible."
She clasped her hands together tightly and nodded. "Yes, that would probably be for the best," she agreed with a gulp.
"That being said," he scanned her slight body critically. "You're hardly up to my weight."
Linnet's face fell. She was confused. She had only heard that term in reference to riding horses, never brides! She tilted her chin. "I'm sure I must be more robust than I look," she said desperately. He raised an eyebrow at that and strangely enough Linnet felt encouraged that he didn't shoot her down.
"Really, I haven't been ill in such a long while and I often carry very heavy books around..." she babbled. "If you could just give me a chance to prove it." Her optimism started to fail under his steady and slightly witherin
g regard. Oh gods, she thought with sudden humiliation. It's the freckles. Either that or the hair. "Y-you did say you didn't care about my hair," she said flatly. She didn't have the courage to even mention her unsightly freckles. That would be pushing it too far. "But you probably said that just to spare my feelings."
"Get on the bed," he said nodding his head in the direction of the big dark wood four poster.
Her eyes flew to his, but his face gave nothing away.
“Get under the covers if you’re cold.” He was stripping down the last of his smalls and Linnet felt guilty for trying to ogle him when clearly he did not relish the thought of looking at her naked. She made haste to scramble under the covers and then, taking a deep breath, yanked her shift up and over her head, flinging it onto the floor. It was cold under the covers and she shivered waiting for it to warm up. Her face felt hot though as she tried to sneak surreptitious looks at the muscular tanned body of her husband. He did not look much like the knights she drew in her life's work, an illustrated manuscript of Tales of Sir Maurency of Jorde, but then after all, those were just stories. Fact was often far different to fiction. Indeed she could scarcely imagine Mason Vawdrey performing acts of chivalry or valor. If anything, he looked like one of the villainous knights of her tales! A dark and sinister knight. But he had done her sterling service that day, she thought warmly. He had exposed her aunt and uncle’s lies and placed the keys to her castle in her own hands. For that she would be eternally grateful and do her utmost to be the kind of wife he could be proud of. With a start she noticed he was climbing in beside her and was glad that the room had fallen into shadow now the afternoon sun had sailed behind a large bunch of cloud. There was a glow from the fireplace, but other than that he had lit no candles and she could only be grateful that her glowing red face would not show her up or her wretched freckles. He shifted over until she felt his bare hairy leg hit her own and she bit back the squeak she had almost uttered at the contact. Calm down Linnet!
"None of your personal belongings are down here," he said casually as he moved his arms slowly and deliberately up to rest his hands behind his head on the pillow.
"Er, no," she agreed nervously. He lay there a moment in silence and Linnet strove to control her shallow breathing. She had just managed to take a deep breath when he spoke again. "Were you expecting to entertain him in your chambers?" he asked.
Her eyes slid over to him. What exactly did he mean by 'entertain'? "I hoped to have some private conversation with Sir Roland after the ceremony..." she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "Our courtship was carried out by proxy and although I wrote to him it was not exactly a correspondence..." Her words trailed off awkwardly.
He seemed to digest this a moment, staring at the ceiling. "You weren't expecting a bedding, were you?"
She sat up and turned to face him, clutching the covers around her shoulders. "In truth I did not negotiate my own marriage terms with Sir Roland," she confided in a rush. "My aunt and uncle they took the lead." She looked down at her hands on the coverlet, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"You negotiated your marriage terms with me," he reminded her.
She caught her breath. "I did, didn't I?" When she looked back at him, his gaze was on her hair.
"Take your hair down, Linnet."
Yes, it was probably for the best if he saw the worst of it at once, she thought dolefully as she reached up to pull out her silver hair-pins. They slid out easily enough from her straight hair which as soon as it was freed, slid down poker-straight to hang about her shoulders in a gleaming curtain. She ran her fingers through it, hardly noticing that the blankets had slid down showing her pale arms, neck and shoulders. Mason had rolled onto his side toward her and reached out now to run his own hands through the silky strands.
"Like a mermaid," he said and Linnet felt herself blush that he should try and compliment her lack of looks. That was kind of him. And unexpected. She felt her heart warm as she set the handful of pins down on the coverlet and mustered the courage to try and meet his eyes. She felt acutely aware of her nakedness and the fact his gaze had dipped to her meagre bosom. Clutching her upper arms she was dismayed to find how cold her fingers felt cold on her own body. Of a certainty Mason Vawdrey would not relish his bride’s touch feeling like wet fish on the slab! She cupped her fingers and breathed on them in the hope of warming them up. His hand slid down the length of her hair to her middle back and then curled around her waist to tug her forward until she was lying on her side and face-to-face with him in the shadowy light of the room. Calm down Linnet! Unsure of her cue, but determined to do her part she reached for him and when she felt the firm muscle of his shoulder she curled her fingers around it and drew him closer to her as he had done. He was careful as he shifted his far bigger body to crowd around her. She had to fight against her impulse to leap back when she felt his hard body press against hers. He bit back at exclamation when she hesitantly placed her other hand at his waist to mirror his.
“Sorry,” she cringed snatching it back. “Are my fingers still cold?”
“A little,” he said shortly.
“Wait, I’ll warm them,” she said chafing them together. “My circulation is sadly sluggish and my limbs are often cold…” Great Linnet, she thought with a twist of her mouth, remind him his bride is a weak invalid! With horror she thought about her feet which were like blocks of ice. She must not touch them to him or he would be repulsed!
“You’re not wearing your shift,” he said in a low hiss, his breath expelling through his teeth.
“Should I have left it on?” Linnet felt mortified. “Wait, I can fetch it!” When she started to move away, his hand shot out to stay her.
“You don’t need it.” He rested his hand on her hip and she shivered slightly at the contact although she could feel the warmth spreading out from his palm. He rested his other hand against her breast bone, spreading his fingers wide. Linnet tried to steady her breathing but she was panting as if she’d run a mile!
“Be calm wife,” he breathed against her temple and she felt his mouth brush against her there.
She puffed out her breath and dragged in a deep breath. “If- if you just give me a moment to accustom myself…” she asked beseechingly. “I promise I’ll do everything you say.”
“Yes,” he agreed in a low, rough voice. “You will,” and in an unhurried move he dragged his hand down until it lay between her breasts. Then his mouth was on her throat and Linnet gasped when she felt his tongue lick her there. He shifted again, until his mouth was next to her ear. “Sweet,” he whispered. “You taste very, very sweet Linnet.”
“Do I?” she whispered feeling dazed. She steeled herself up to reach for him again and placed her hands against his broad chest. “You feel very different to me,” she marveled and then instantly felt foolish. “Should I stop talking?” she asked feeling slightly mortified.
He seemed to consider this a moment. “How different?” he asked. His voice sounded husky. Definitely warmer than before. His own hands moved until they cupped her small, high breasts. “You’re little and soft,” he breathed. When she didn’t respond he asked, “Linnet?”
So he did want her to speak then? “You’re not,” she said in a rush. “You’re big and hard all over."
“Yes,” he agreed and then bit off his words when he would have continued. His tone sounded different. Amused and something else. She wondered what he was going to say and suddenly it was important to speak what was uppermost on her mind.
“My feet are cold,” she blurted. “I don’t want you to accidently touch them and be disgusted.”
He stilled for a moment before shifting down and closing his fingers around one foot. “Why would I be disgusted by this little foot?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble from his chest. He drew her knee over his hip and placed the sole of her foot against the back of his thigh. “I’ll soon warm you up,” he promised thickly. Linnet held her breath when his hand traced over her ankle and then sli
d up to her knee. She swallowed as he followed her leg right up to her thigh. His fingers were hardened and calloused and she felt every brush of his fingers against her prickling skin. She felt hot, short of breath and tingly. Her leg was resting against him and her body completely open to him. She should feel embarrassed but instead she had the strangest impulse to strain even closer to him. With surprise she realized she was pressing her foot into his thigh, urging him to close the gap between their bodies.
“So sweet,” he repeated and suddenly his hand slid between her legs and cupped her intimately. She gave a muffled exclamation at the shock and raising her head off the pillow to peer at him. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but he was panting now as hard as her.
“You please me, wife.” He said gruffly and lowered his mouth to hers where he kissed her entirely differently to how he had in the chapel. Their kiss there had been chaste and close-lipped. Now his mouth moved over hers in an intimate exploration. His tongue teased and prodded and invaded her mouth in a wet, hot slide that left her gasping and clinging to him, bewildered and reeling. And then his fingers were performing the same dance between her legs, petting and stroking and making her gasp into his mouth in both dismay and shocked delight. What was this? This was not the facts of bedding as she had learned them from her aunt’s whispering ladies-in-waiting. This was surely something else entirely. She tensed and twisted, but however she moved, she could not escape the strange sensations he was arousing in her body. She squeezed her eyes shut and gave up even trying. He kissed her again gently this time on her closed eyelids and then reached down to hook her other leg over his other hip as he loomed over her on the bed. “Put your arms around me,” he said thickly. “I’m going to take you now Linnet.” His voice was gravelly in warning, thick with promise. She could be in no doubt that he was keen to get the deed done now and was glad.
Her Bastard Bridegroom: A Medieval Romance Page 3
