“That may not be for a few years yet,” he pointed out dryly which reminded her she had to write to her father. When Garman said he’d better be getting back to his training, she asked Ada to bring her paper and ink and sat up to the freshly cleared table to compose an overdue letter to her family at Hallam Hall. After staring at the paper fixedly for a moment or two, she dashed off the following.
Dear Father
I hope this letter finds you well and Mother and Grandmother also. I imagine you may have heard the news of my marriage already, but if not then I am happy to inform you that I am now the wife of Sir Garman Orde and currently residing at the address given above.
I must beg your forgiveness; she wrote with a grimace, for the manner in which I impart this news. Circumstances were such that I did not feel confident after my late illness to divulge my choice of bridegroom to you. I hope you can forgive my hasty flight from court. Regrettably at that time I did not feel that I had any other course open to me.
It is my wish that with the fullness of time we can be reconciled to one another and you can welcome my husband into the family.
I remain your affectionate daughter.
Lenora
It was rather brief, she thought, gazing down at it. She could well imagine that her father would bristle when he read it. Especially if her Uncle Christopher had received news of their marriage before him, but that could not be helped.
She had no doubt that strange rumors of the tournament at Kellingford would have reached court by now and shivered slightly to think what people would make of it. As for her father, she knew his habits well enough to know he would have returned to his country seat by now, so hopefully had been spared the worst of the gossip.
At least she had both her first cousins on her side, she thought as she searched in Grandfather Sutton’s writing box for a piece of sealing wax. She had no sooner dripped the hot wax onto the fold, then he came bustling into the room, asking her if she wanted to go to accompany him on a stock-take of the cellars.
She gave him her letter and after glancing at the direction, he said he would see that it was sent off without delay. Lenora went upstairs and changed into her most serviceable headscarf and a cloak, for she had been warned the cellars were both draughty and dusty and she then spent an instructive afternoon helping Gerard to inspect the stores.
32
Garman returned to the house that afternoon feeling pleased with his progress. Not only had he spent several useful hours in training, but he had finally persuaded Huw to attempt the quintain which was more than he ever managed previously.
Without a doubt, his friend had only agreed to try and get back in his good books, but by the time Huw left, he genuinely seemed to be enthused about learning to joust. The only downside was that he was now urging Garman to spend a few days with him at the Grange to instruct him and Ivo in the rudiments.
The timing did not seem right to Garman, though he could not say why precisely or give his friend any excuse that would not embarrass them both. It was only his private conviction that he and Lenora were finally settling into a rhythm for their married lives together.
Still, he felt he owed it to them, and his wife would have to realize she was further down his obligation list. In his head this made perfect sense for the Hainfroys were his oldest friends and he owed them much. He did not quite understand himself why he felt reluctant to leave her for a week or two. It wasn’t like she would be going anywhere and besides, he competed on the circuit and would soon be leaving her for weeks at a time as a matter of course.
He was quiet at supper, listening to Lenora and his grandfather chatter over their plans for the week ahead. He ordered a bath for their room after dinner for he had worked up quite a sweat that day and pondered how best to break the news of his imminent departure.
“Have you given any more thought to the situation with Berta?” he asked as he lowered himself into the tub before the fire that evening.
Lenora was looking over her trunkful of gowns with a critical eye. “A little,” she said grudgingly. “Which of these two dresses would you say was the more serviceable?”
Garman eyed both gowns she held up. Both looked frivolous in the extreme. “The blue,” he lied.
“Blue?” She gazed back at the two dresses. “You mean this mauve one?” she said, lifting one up higher. He gave a short nod. “Truly?” She turned the dress about and eyed it with misgiving. “You don’t think the cut of the sleeves a little… fussy?”
He thought it was a court dress, but what was the use in pointing that out? Nearly all her gowns were. “And what conclusion did you draw about Berta?” he persisted, rubbing the soap leaves briskly between his palms.
Lenora sighed. “I don’t want to lose her,” she admitted. “Though I can see what you say makes sense.” He grunted and was just soaping under his arms when she added. “I wrote to my father today.”
Garman looked up quickly. “Why?”
“I couldn’t put it off any longer in good conscience.”
He wanted to tell her she should not have bothered, but he had already made his feelings about the matter plain. She must have done this for her own peace of mind, he concluded with a frown.
“It seemed rude not to write when he’s bound to hear it from another source,” she said lamely. “I would hate for my Uncle Christopher to break it to him for he would be sure to do it with a breathtaking lack of tact.”
“Tact?” Garman echoed, lowering his washcloth. “He could scarcely be less tactful than your own sire.” He left the unforgiveable words unspoken but, from her flush, he knew they were both thinking of the same thing. “‘Twould be better if she’d died, rather than suffer this cruel fate.” The words hung heavy between them.
“What do you want a plain dress for anyway?” he asked gruffly after a moment of silence had lapsed with neither of them uttering a word. “One day in the cellars is surely plenty.”
Lenora had set the blue to one side—or what did she call it, mauve? And was now carefully re-folding the orange gown and setting it back in the trunk. “Your grandfather is entertaining some visiting neighbors tomorrow evening. I did not want to be too ostentatiously dressed for it.” A flicker of uncertainty passed over her face. “I want to look… approachable and friendly,” she finished with a nod.
Visitors? Garman rolled his eyes. Maybe his visit to Cofton Grange would not be untimely after all. “I won’t be here,” he said shortly. “I mean to spend a week or so at the Hainfroy place.”
Lenora straightened up from the trunk and stared at him. “A week?” She blinked.
“Maybe two.”
“Two weeks?” Lenora placed her hands on her hips.
“Aye wife, two weeks. What of it?”
“I just told you that I am to be introduced to your neighbors tomorrow eve—” she began briskly, but he cut her off.
“They’re not my neighbors, Lenora. They’re my grandfather’s.”
“And what of me?” she demanded.
“What of you?”
“Is this not my home at present?”
He leaned back against the side of the tub and regarded her; brows drawn together. “You are making your home here for now,” he corrected her.
She drew herself up to all of her unimpressive height. “You said only this afternoon that we might not have our own place for a couple of years at least,” she pointed out. When he said nothing, she added accusingly, “It seems to me you spend as much time at the Grange as you do here!”
“That has always been the case,” he answered, which was true enough. He had lived more years there as a young squire, than he had here as a squalling infant, all told.
Lenora slammed the lid of her trunk and took a step toward the door.
He grabbed the edges of his tub, “Hold wife!” She froze. “Come and wash my back,” he ordered.
Her eyes flashed and for some reason, that was enough to dispel his bad mood. “I’ll call for Hawise,” she said,
narrowing her gaze at him.
“Hawise hasn’t bathed me since I was three years old. You can do it,” he said, holding out the cloth. For a moment she considered defying him and he braced himself to spring from the tub. Then her chin came up and she stalked across the room, snatching the cloth from him with an ill-grace that had him biting back a grin.
“Soap!” she bit out and he handed her the flakes, leaning forward to present his back to her. The cloth slapped his shoulder blades almost making him jump. She muttered under her breath as she dragged the cloth down the planes of his back.
“Speak up,” he recommended. “I can’t hear you.”
“You should be glad of the fact,” she said darkly, and he laughed.
“Now you laugh?” she huffed. “I’ve been wanting to hear an honest laugh from you for weeks and this is what makes you throw back your head in mirth?” For some reason, the admission made him catch his breath. “There!” She threw the cloth into the tub with a splash and took a hasty step away from the tub. Garman’s hand shot out and he caught her wrist, preventing her escape. He tugged on it lightly, bringing her back to the edge.
“I did not say I was done with you, wife.”
“Oh? What do you want now?” she asked. “Your hair washing?”
He grinned. “Nay, for I’ve washed it already. It’s you that has need of my services.”
“I do?” She gave him a skeptical look.
“You don’t remember? You asked for my help with something.”
“I don’t—” She broke off and colored, so he knew the precise moment she realized what he was referring to. Their eyes met and held. “You’re the one in the bath this time,” she prevaricated.
“Come and join me. We’ve shared before.”
“That tub was bigger,” she pointed out.
“So, this time you can sit on my lap. We’re better acquainted now.”
“Better acquainted?” she echoed with a quirk of her brow, when in his opinion, she should have been querying if he really meant his lap.
“Stop stalling,” he said, releasing her hand and leaning back in the tub. “You wanted my opinion and I mean to give it.”
Lenora huffed out a breath. “Oh, very well,” she said and swiveled around and presenting her back to him, hands on her hips.
He sat up so fast, water sloshed over the sides of the tub as his wet fingers fumbled with her lacings. It did not take long to get her divested of all clothing and draw her into the bath. “Set your other foot here on the other side of me,” he said, planting her foot next to his hip and guiding her down onto his lap. She lowered herself gingerly, astride and facing him. She made no mention of his obvious arousal.
“I’m barely submerged to my waist,” she complained.
“Which suits my purpose admirably.”
She cocked an eyebrow at that, crossing her arms over her breasts and leaning back. “What purpose would that be?”
“Admiring you.”
“I shall turn all to goose pimples!”
“You won’t get the chance,” he promised, his eyes roaming over her.
Catching his expression, she flushed, then uncrossed her arms, resting her hands on the sides of the bath. “Well, what is the verdict?” she asked quietly. “Have I flesh enough to please you yet?”
“Aye,” he rumbled deep in his chest, his hands coming to rest on her waist before sliding down. “I see plenty to please me. I would not spare you this night if today was our wedding day.”
She gave a short laugh, as he ran his thumbs over the swell of her hips. “That’s reassuring.”
He watched her expression turn thoughtful.
“What?” he asked softly.
“I was just thinking that it’s fortunate, is it not? That you prefer comely wenches to beauteous ones.”
His thumbs stilled. “Lenora—”
“Don’t,” she said quickly. “Whatever you’re about to say.” She placed a finger against his lips. “I prefer your brutal honesty. I think I told you that once, though I’m not sure you believed me.”
“I wasn’t about to be dishonest,” he growled.
“No, but no doubt you felt obligated to say something nice.”
Garman placed a hand on either side of Lenora’s face. “Lenora,” he said firmly. “I never feel obligated to say nice things.”
“No, but—”
“When I say I like the way you look, it’s a simple statement of fact.”
“Well—”
“Stop arguing.”
“I’m not, I just—”
He yanked her forward roughly against him and slammed his lips into hers. Lenora lay sprawled against him for a moment, but then her arms came up to wind about his neck. He found one hand sliding into her long, silky hair while the other gently stroked her cheek. He felt an almost overwhelming impulse to both soothe and ravish her at the same time, which must be why he felt so conflicted and his chest ached like a hot coal blazed in his chest.
She made a muffled sound and shifted in closer to him. He clapped one hand to her backside while his other slipped between their bodies, seeking out that sensitive spot between her legs. The needy whimper she gave when he found it made his breath catch in his throat. He pulled back from their kiss to watch her face. “Why do you avoid my eye, wife?” he asked huskily.
She huffed out a breath. “It hardly seems decent when your hand’s… where it is,” she whispered back.
A sudden thought occurred to him. “Tell me if anything’s uncomfortable.” He frowned slightly. He hadn’t exactly been taking it easy on her these last couple of days.
“Not uncomfortable,” she mumbled. “But—”
“What?” His fingers stilled. Was she in discomfort?
“Aching,” said Lenora on a sob.
He swore, his breathing growing ragged. “Aching?” he repeated softly, adding a finger and thrusting deep.
“Oh!”
“Ah wife,” he said with deep satisfaction. “I can see you’re going to keep on pleasing me.”
“Garman,” she groaned, resting her brow against his.
“Do you want me there, Lenora?” She nodded her head. “Say that then, love.”
“I want you here.” Her hand slid down his neck, past his chest, right down to his aching cock. He bit back an answering groan and wrapped his hand around hers, stroking his shaft with their intertwined fingers.
“You remember that first time I touched you, in the tent? When I spilled my seed on you?” She looked surprised by the direction of his conversation but nodded. “You did not find it… unpleasant?” She shook her head this time. “That’s good, because I’m going to pull out of you before I spend from now on,” he said raggedly.
“Why?” she asked with surprise.
“We had this conversation, remember?” he asked tightly as his hips bucked beneath her.
“We did?” She looked uncertain.
“I don’t want children,” he panted. At least, a voice whispered in his head, you never wanted them before.
“Pulling out would prevent that?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“You didn’t pull out the last two times. What if…”
He felt a lurch in his chest that confused him. It wasn’t fear or panic. And it definitely wasn’t anger. What was it then? “If we made a child?” he asked, swallowing.
“Yes. What if we… made a child?”
Something about her tone of voice had him looking at her sharply. “Unlikely,” he said. Then closing his eyes an instant, he stilled her hand on him. “I want to be inside you,” he said raggedly. “Not for long. I’ll withdraw when I get close.”
She nodded with complete trust. He wished he had as much faith in himself. “Will we get out of the tub, or—?”
“No, no time,” he said, squeezing her waist and hauling her up onto her knees. Hands trembling, he seized her thighs in his big hands and urged her to straddle his inflamed cock.
“But,” Lenora obje
cted desperately. “How does this work?”
“Gods woman, just sit on it,” he implored her. “Before I explode!”
Lenora looked up quickly, her eyes seeking his. “But you just said—?”
“I want you to mount me, Lenora,” he said, interrupting her rudely. “Now put your wet pussy on my cock like a good girl.” His hungry gaze was between them, between her legs as he jostled her into position.
Lenora gave a frustrated sob. “But—” She gave a keening cry as with scant ceremony, he lowered her onto his hard staff.
“Fuck, yes Lenora,” he groaned as he entered her and she began to slide down his length, swallowing him slowly inch by inch.
“Garman,” she breathed, her eyes wide with panic. “I don’t think I can like this. You feel so…”
“Say it.”
“Big, you feel really big and thick.”
He groaned again, his hands squeezing on the fleshy globes of her buttocks. “Take what’s yours,” he urged. “It’s all yours, so take it like a good wife.”
He had absolutely no idea where these words were coming from. He couldn’t remember ever saying, let alone thinking such thoughts before. Mind you, he’d never taken a wife before, so maybe that accounted for it.
Lenora closed her eyes and let her head drop back as she sank down a further couple of inches. “I can’t,” she moaned. “Have mercy.”
He gave a mirthless grin. “You’ll find no mercy from me in this marriage bed,” he said thickly, and delivered a ringing slap to her backside. Lenora gave a startled moan and sank down further. “You’ll take all or nothing, my girl,” he rumbled darkly.
At this threat, Lenora’s eyes flew open and he felt his chest well in the grip of some emotion when he saw the desire in their depths. She was in almost as bad a state as him. “I’ll try,” she blurted. “Don’t pull out.”
“You’ve nearly taken me,” he whispered and began massaging her backside again. “Look.” His own eyes were riveted to where their bodies were intimately joined. Lenora glanced down and caught her breath at the sight.
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 32
