“For now, this is how you will take it, until I’m satisfied you fill out your bodice well enough,” he answered brusquely. Involuntarily, Lenora found herself glancing down at her rather loose gown. He had no manners at all, she thought as he thrust it back at her, and then recommenced shoveling his own meal down.
She had to admit, it was strangely fascinating to see how much food he could consume, she watched wonderingly as the bowls and trenchers emptied at a dizzying rate. When they had first taken their seats, she had thought the landlord had vastly overestimated how much food they would need on their table, but now she could see he had gauged it almost perfectly.
As if becoming aware of her scrutiny, Garman paused and looked pointedly across at her. Seeing as she was making good progress with the contents of her plate, she wondered what he could possibly find fault with now. “Something interests you?” he asked, mopping up some of the juices on his plate with a chunk of bread.
Lenora colored, realizing her surprise had not gone unnoticed. “My father never breaks his fast until noon,” she said by way of explanation, not adding that he only ate sparingly then.
“You’ll find I’m a man of large appetites, Lenora.”
She met his gaze and reddened. He wasn’t just talking about his stomach, she realized and let the subject drop. His glance mocked her for a faint-heart, but Lenora cleared her throat, refusing to be drawn on such an indelicate subject. Did the man think no subject was off the table?
Finally, when every scrap of food was demolished, Garman sat back in his seat and stretched his long legs out before him. Lenora could feel his eyes on her face as she swallowed the last morsel of the herb bread, and almost wished she had not left off her face veil this morn, though t’would be difficult indeed to try and smuggle pieces of food under it.
“Who’s the knight you particularly did not want to see?” he asked suddenly, catching her off guard.
Lenora lowered the cup of weak ale she had raised to her lips to wash down her food. “Pardon?”
“At the royal tournament.”
“When did I ever suggest—?”
“In my bedchamber at the palace,” he interrupted her. Lenora shot an embarrassed look in Berta’s direction. The old woman was absorbed still in finishing her herrings. Lenora frowned at Garman who looked back at her blankly. Clearly, he thought a servant beneath consideration. “You said there was a knight in particular you wished to avoid,” he repeated.
“I’m not sure - oh,” she said, her frowning clearing. “I meant Sir Roland Vawdrey.”
Garman’s expression grew grim. “And why was that?” he asked in a low voice with a sharp edge to it.
“Oh, well…” Lenora said awkwardly. “He’s family now, and they were all making various plans for me and I wanted to choose my own path.” He was silent, but Lenora saw he was displeased by her response. “My cousin Eden, wrote inviting me to convalesce with them at Vawdrey Keep and I did not want that,” she elaborated. “Her plan was that I should accompany Sir Roland back there after the tournament which I wanted to avoid.”
Garman gave her a hard look before asking tonelessly. “He was your betrothed at one time, wasn’t he?”
She gave a startled laugh. “Hardly that. It was all a misunderstanding.” His skeptical look forced her to add firmly. “He married my cousin and I supported their match from the outset.”
“If you say so,” he answered, clearly not convinced and Lenora felt a flicker of annoyance.
She plunked her cup down and stared at him. “What are you implying? That I had some alternative reason for avoiding Sir Roland’s presence at court?” He looked startled, as if not anticipating she would go on the offensive. When he said nothing, she said, “You do! You think I had some motivation for fleeing from Sir Roland!” His continued silence proclaimed the truth of her words. “What earthly reason could I have?” she asked. “If there was anything betwixt us, my cousin would hardly invite me to stay with them for months on end, or offer her husband as escort,” she pointed out reasonably. When he continued silent, she grew irritated. “What? What are you thinking?” she asked abruptly. He just shook his head. “Out with it!”
“That maybe your pride could not withstand his beholding your face now,” he admitted harshly.
Lenora gasped at the brutality of his words. Here then, was plain speaking. She forced herself to relax and think before flinging out the hot words of denial that sprang to her lips. Once she had caught her breath, she said, “If my pride could withstand being jilted in favor of my cousin, as you seem to think, then I’m sure it could withstand Sir Roland seeing my ruined face.”
He grunted and Lenora felt the strangest impulse to throw something at his head. Her gaze fell on the dish of butter between them, but instead she took a steadying breath. “Sir Roland and I never exchanged more than a handful of words together in our lives—” she began, but he held up a hand.
“I don’t want to hear his name on your lips,” he said in a warning voice. “I won’t say it again.”
Lenora’s jaw dropped. She stared at him in astonishment. He was the one who had brought Sir Roland up, was he not? She frowned, going back over their words. Or at least, he had raised the subject. When he stood abruptly from the table and strode from the room without another word, she transferred her incredulous gaze to Berta who met it with a dry cackle.
“Feeling proprietary this morn, ain’t he?” she said, smacking her lips over the last of her own meal.
“I don’t remotely understand what that was about!” Lenora admitted shakily. “It made no sense and seemed to spring up out of nowhere!”
“It’s called jealousy, my girl,” Berta said dryly.
“But that’s ridiculous!” Lenora was pretty sure men did not get jealous over women as disfigured as she.
“Is it? He’s got a bee in his bonnet about your ex-suitor, and no mistake.”
Lenora puffed out a frustrated breath. “But Sir Roland and I were never really—”
“Best not speak his name, miss,” the old woman recommended heartily. “I’d get out of the habit of saying it if I were you. I wouldn’t put it past his kind to put you over his knee if you go against his word.”
“I am not in the habit of speaking Sir Roland’s name above any other!” Lenora said warmly. Then she registered the rest of Berta’s sage advice and her eyes widened. “He wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh, wouldn’t he?” The old woman sounded grimly amused. “Seems like something I could imagine this fine husband of yours doing quite readily.”
Lenora rallied herself. “He may appear rough and uncouth at times, Berta,” she said huffily. “But I assure you, he is a knight of this realm!”
Berta gave a chuckle. “Seems to me you’ve led a sheltered life, miss, as befits a girl of your station. I’ve seen those same knights spilling out onto the streets of Aphrany of an evenin’. Seen ‘em brawling, seen ‘em whoring and let me tell you, them precious knights of yours don’t seem no better to my mind, than any other men. Some of ‘em far worse!”
And just like that, the tension went out of Lenora’s bearing. She slumped forward onto her elbows, resting them on the table. Truth to tell, Berta likely had far more knowledge of life than the cossetted daughter of a nobleman such as she. “You’re probably right,” she admitted frankly, and saw a surprised look cross Berta’s face. “You think I should curb my tongue around him, and very likely you have a point. Only I’m not used to—” She broke off. “It beggars belief that he could feel jealousy about… me,” she finished flatly.
Berta rolled her eyes. “You’re in his bed now, miss. He made no bones about the fact he wanted you there.” When Lenora opened her mouth to protest, she forestalled her. “Nay, don’t come that with me. I know very well you thought to have your own quarters last night, but he was having none of it.”
Lenora blushed. “Well, no,” she admitted. “But even so—”
“Most men ain’t so particular in their tastes th
at they’ll balk at anything but a flawless face,” Berta said pragmatically.
“I understand that,” Lenora answered without rancor. “What I don’t understand is his suddenly getting high-handed about past suitors. After all, when first I—” She had to break off hastily. She had been going to say approached him, but she did not want Berta to know how she had been forced to proposition her husband. “I mean, when first he paid me his addresses, he showed precious little interest in them.”
Berta sniffed. “Likely they never bothered him, before he began to think of you as his,” she said with a shrug. “You may have been contracted,” she continued. “But men are practical creatures in the main. He wouldn’t have considered you truly his till he’d bedded you.”
Lenora opened her mouth, but the words did not come out. Instead she closed it smartly again. That didn’t explain it either, but she could hardly tell Berta as such. “Maybe,” she agreed instead, rather lamely.
“We’d best get our things packed up,” Berta told her, clambering to her feet. “I got a feeling he wouldn’t care to be kept waiting.”
“Very likely,” Lenora agreed, following her servant to the narrow staircase.
“If they could all see me now,” boasted Berta in a sudden change of subject. “With my very own bedchamber at an inn!”
“Where would you normally be expected to sleep?” Lenora asked, for in truth, she had thought her maid would sleep in with her the previous night.
“There’s usually communal rooms for common folk or else you can doze on a bench downstairs by the fire.”
“That all sounds extremely uncomfortable. I’m not sure which would be worse!”
They were climbing the stairs now, and Berta rolled her eyes. “Your father’s servants all had their own rooms did they, when your family traveled abroad?”
Lenora bit her lip. She had never really thought about where the servants slept before. Her own maid Hannah would usually be in with her, but her parents’ servants would not have shared her mother and father’s room. It had never occurred to her before to wonder.
“You needn’t answer,” Berta said mildly. “And your husband only got me my own room last night to lull you into a false sense of security, and well I knows it!” Lenora nearly missed her footing. Berta gave a cackle of laughter. “He’s a downy one and no mistake.”
Which was also probably true, Lenora reflected as she hurried to her room and began gathering up the cats. Yet for all his blunt words about beddings, he had allowed her to sleep on last night instead of forcing his attentions on her. She lowered Tybalt into the basket alongside his siblings and then closed and fastened the basket lid over their indignant meows. “We’ll soon be in our new home, my darlings,” she soothed them.
That was another thing, she thought, he had not insisted that the cats were re-located into Berta’s room on the previous night. If anything could have encouraged her to look at him in a favorable light, it was that. Of course, she was thankful that none of them had ventured onto the bed, that might have been a step too far. She had not missed his disapproving tone when she had compared his steed to her dear cats on the previous day. Still, he had forborne from comments she would find hard to forgive, so she had to acknowledge that his conduct, apart from forcing her to share her bath with him, had been really quite beyond reproach.
While it was true his speech was both shocking and crude, he had not actually acted on his words and after all, she had known what manner of man he was from the outset. She remembered how he had spoken of his sporting with more than one wench at a time, on the occasion of their very first conversation. He had not made any secret of the fact he had large and unnatural appetites. Of course, she had not thought he meant to slake them on her at the time, but oh well, whatever husband you plumped for would probably have undesirable facets, she thought with a shrug. Marriage was a gamble and women were frequently dealt a losing hand. You had to make the most of what you were given. As she hurriedly stowed the rest of her few things away into a sack, she reflected optimistically that things could have been a good deal worse.
9
They rested briefly at midday, but other than that pushed on until long after the sun had set. Then there was another inn, far less congenial than the previous nights. There were no baths to be had or generous suppers at this place. They had to make do with bread and cheese and a small, dark room with a hard-narrow bed. Berta elbowed her way onto a long low bench the fire in the main chamber downstairs and professed herself comfortable. Lenora followed Garman up to their room and had to make do with a strip wash and no fire. While she was preparing for bed, her husband went back out to the stable to see to the horses himself, not trusting to the weaselly looking grooms. While he was gone, Lenora let the cats out of their basket and encouraged them to settle on a blanket in the far corner of the room. None of the cats were impressed with the lack of a fire and Tybalt showed a tendency to make for the bed whenever she took her eye off him.
“No,” Lenora reproached him for the third time, snatching him up and depositing him gently on the blanket. “You must remain here with your brothers.” Purcel scratched forlornly at the blanket with his claws and mewed. “I’m sorry, but this is the best we can manage for this evening. Look at your mother,” she implored. “Grizelda is perfectly content. Can you not emulate her in this respect?” She was pleased to see the remaining kitten, Fendel was curled up next to his mother. “At least you’re being good,” she sighed. Hearing a footfall on the stairs, she hurriedly retreated to tip the dirty washing water out of the window and comb her hair. Sure enough, three raps were heard on the door and Lenora made haste to unlock it as prearranged. Garman came through the door wordlessly and removed his tunic, making his way to the basin and pouring the clean jug of water into it. Lenora plaited her fair hair as she listened to the sounds of water swishing about as he washed. When she had secured her thick braid, she tossed it over her shoulder and made for the narrow bed.
“There won’t be much room, I fear,” she said critically as she climbed onto the hard mattress. Garman made no reply but glanced back over his shoulder at her. For a brief moment, she wondered if he could be induced to take half the blankets and sleep on the floor. Or could she sleep on a chair? she wondered, glancing at the two rickety wooden objects that were the only other furniture in the room. The idea rapidly paled, besides she actually felt cold in these sheets. She was sure the room was damp. Scanning the ceiling, she fancied she could see damp spots in the flickering candlelight. “Hurry,” she said, her teeth chattering. “I’m cold.” She heard him moving about, then the thud of one boot, then the other being removed. Lenora shuffled to the edge of the mattress, facing the wall as she heard his bare footsteps cross the room. Then the bed dipped behind her and a far bigger body joined her, crowding up against her own.
If there had been room, she might have flinched away from the press of warm hard flesh, but she had nowhere to retreat to. His solid bulk was right up flush against her back, the front of his legs came to rest against the back of hers. For some reason, she had thought they would lie back to back, but clearly that was not the case. One of the flat pillows rustled overhead as he adjusted it, Lenora wondered what it could be stuffed with. It felt like straw. When he did not speak but just exhaled a noisy breath, Lenora realized she had not heard him speak for several hours.
“Comfortable?” she found herself asking over her shoulder. There was a heavy silence, then he replied grudgingly.
“I’ve had worse.”
Clearly, he did not want conversation, but perversely Lenora found herself craving it. She already knew sleep was not going to come easily to her tonight. She tried to concentrate instead on the warmth seeping slowly from his limbs to hers, but it was too gradual for her liking. “I think these sheets are likely damp,” she ventured.
He huffed again in the darkness. “Go to sleep, Lenora.”
“This room certainly is. Damp, I mean.”
Silence. Lenora bit
her lip. “Did you see Berta in the taproom?” She peered back over her shoulder again, but he had blown out the candle. “I only wondered if she was comfortable,” she explained. He shifted irritably, but clearly had no room to escape from her either. For some reason, the idea of his wanting to flee from their marital bed struck her as funny and she had to suppress a laugh. She heard his head turn toward her in the dark.
“What’s so funny?” he asked grudgingly.
“Just the two of us, crammed on this mattress,” she admitted with a chortle. “Both of us heartily longing to be elsewhere.”
He was silent a moment, and Lenora found herself worrying she had offended him. Which was absurd. “I only meant—” She started hesitantly, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Are you always this solicitous of your servants?” he asked grouchily.
“What?” She was thrown for a moment.
“The old woman. She may have been with you since you were a child, but that hardly—”
“Oh, she hasn’t,” Lenora interrupted him. “She has only been with me this last three months.”
“Three months?” His tone was frankly disbelieving.
“Yes,” Lenora agreed. “But it was a rather intense three months. You see, I nearly died.” He was silent and for some reason, Lenora couldn’t abide the silence and found she had to fill it. “Berta nursed me back from the brink,” she carried on blithely.
“She doesn’t look much like a healer.” His tone was dry, skeptical even.
“She’s not,” Lenora agreed. “She’s a laundress by trade, but to earn some extra coin she lays out the dead.”
His pillow rustled. “What do you mean?”
She could hear the frown in his voice. Lenora was careful to keep her tone light. “We were all put down in the crypt,” she said. “The afflicted. We—we had attendants. They identified which of us needed to be dragged out. They had their faces covered with scarves and they used to nudge us with sticks. Sometimes they brought us water.” When her voice wavered, she stopped and took a breath in and out. “When I was certain I was going to live.” She carried on again and was pleased to hear her voice was steady. “I caught hold of Berta’s skirt and refused to let go. I told her I was rich, that if she fetched me water and food, I would see she was rewarded.”
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 7
