“No, no,” she assured him. “It’s a different one.”
“Or there being curse on your face—” he started warningly.
“Nor that one either. It’s nothing bad,” she said hurriedly. He huffed out a breath and gave a short nod for her continue. “This one was a figure in colored rags outside the abbey at Bonbartle. I was twelve years old. He—he told me about my true love.” Her face turned scarlet and she did not dare meet Garman’s level gaze. “I think it might be why I had no interest in any of my suitors and why I took so much care to learn all the heraldic devices of all the knights I ever came across.” Now she’d started, she found it hard to continue.
“Continue,” he said gruffly.
“He—he said my true love had the device of a bleeding heart,” she said with breathless wonder. When he said nothing, she continued. “You are familiar with the crest of the Earls of Twyford?”
Garman frowned. “‘Tis a black heart on a white background and there are three drops of blood—” She broke off as Garman rolled her under him. “Really Lenora?” he growled. “You needed this to prove I’m your true love?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Have you not heard a single thing I’ve said to you?”
Lenora swallowed. “You—you did not speak of love,” she pointed out shakily.
“Yes, I did,” he insisted. “With every single word I spoke.”
“You did?”
“Aye, with every word and every action.”
“You did not say so specifically.”
“No, I did not,” he agreed. “And neither, wife, did you.”
Her gaze flew to meet his. “I did not have the nerve.”
“You’ve nerve enough for plenty,” he growled.
Lenora caught her breath. “But you—for me, I mean?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” At her frown, he added roughly. “You gave me sleepless nights and restless days. I ached for you, here.” He grasped her hand and slid it over his heart. “Right in my black heart.”
The smile dropped from Lenora’s lips. “You did?” she whispered, feeling its steady beat beneath her fingers.
“Constantly. Even when I was saying harsh words, they pained me to speak them. Inside, I was torn and bleeding.”
“Oh.” She moistened her lips. “I wanted you to come for me. I trusted you would, but underneath, I was so afraid you would not.” Her voice wobbled. “You’re proud. Your grandfather said it’s an Orde trait.”
“I would always have come for you,” he said roughly. “I would have come,” he repeated. “Though in truth, my pride held me back as long as I could stand it. Even on the ride over here, I was clutching at lame excuses to give you. Such as Fendrel missed you or was wasting away. He’s fine,” he added quickly at her expression of concern.
She breathed out then. “I’m glad it did not take longer,” she murmured and smiled up at him.
He placed his hands on either side of her face. “I love you, Lenora.” His words wiped the smile right off her face. She never would have dreamt he would say it first.
“I love you too,” she answered in a choked voice. “Garman Orde.”
She watched his shoulders relax and a smile tug at his lips. “Not because of some ragged soothsayer,” he insisted. “Though, if his words put you off looking at other men, then I suppose I am indebted to him on that score.”
She laughed. “Why then?” she asked curiously.
“For your own sake,” he answered readily enough. “For your quick wits, the fact you laugh when least prudent, your determination to forge your own way.” He looked at her long and hard. “For the fact you make the least likely people love you.”
“Meaning yourself?”
“Most of all myself. But there are plenty of others. Berta, my cousins and yours, both my grandfathers,” he said dryly. “I’ve a feeling you’re only getting started.”
She nodded at that and smiled. “I’d like to think so,” she said in a choked voice and he was kissing her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her jaw. “I missed you. I was a fool.”
Lenora felt her heart swell in her chest. “I missed you too.”
“Your family must think me the biggest churl in existence.”
“I don’t think so,” she said with a gurgle of laughter. “Your new title has reconciled my father to you almost entirely.”
“Almost?” She dropped her gaze and he tilted her chin up so he could see her eyes. “Tell me what else I must do?”
“Really, there is nothing—”
“Tell me, Lenora.”
She pulled a face. “‘Tis only that he would like to parade his son-in-law at court,” she admitted. “Which is a thing I told him you will never tolerate. “
“Why?” He shrugged. “I can stand that and plenty more if it makes you happy.”
Lenora stared. “What? But—”
“I wasn’t planning on attending court until the royal tournament, but if he wants me there before that—?”
“No, he suggested that himself,” Lenora assured him. “It was only that I did not think you would find such a thing congenial.”
He shrugged. “Now tell me how can I worm my way into your grandmother’s graces?”
She marveled for a moment at his willingness to even try. “No grand gesture would win her over,” she admitted. “But rather the test of time.”
He was silent a moment. “I can pass that test, given time, Lenora.” She nodded. “You’re going to give me that chance, my love?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“Yes,” she whispered, and he was kissing her again.
“Thank the gods,” he said devoutly as she wound her arms around his neck. “Are you too tired—?”
“No,” she assured him. “Not too tired.”
“I love you Lenora,” he repeated as his hand slid up her thigh, hitching up her shift. “I’ve missed you everywhere, but in my bed the most. Not just for this,” he said hastily. “But because I could not be sure you slept soundly without me. I feared you might return to that accursed crypt in your dreams. That thought tormented me—”
Lenora opened her legs and he caught his breath. “I did not have bad dreams,” she said. “For I could not allow myself to believe you would not come.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he said shakily as he eased himself between her legs. “But I swear, I’ll work at being the man who does.”
Lenora clasped him to her, and they affirmed their love through broken murmurs as their bodies welcomed each other’s embrace.
“Ah gods, I’ve missed this,” he groaned. “You have no idea how much.”
“I might have some idea,” Lenora teased, but he only shook his head.
“You can’t have,” he insisted, trailing kisses down her jaw as was his custom. “I’ve been a soul in torment.”
“That bad?” she choked.
“Worse.” Then he started to tremble. “I won’t last long.”
Lenora wrapped her legs around his hips. “If we stop talking, you might last longer,” she suggested.
He gave an uneven laugh. “Don’t tease me, when I’m this close. You know I can’t withstand you.”
Lenora bit her lip and arched up into him. “Don’t you want to change the position?”
He groaned. “No, I want it this way, so I can look at your face.”
Lenora swallowed. “My face?” she asked, in a deceptively light voice.
“Aye wife, your face.” His voice was thick with emotion and lust, but he held her gaze as he started to thrust in earnest. “For it’s the face I love best in all the world.”
Lenora felt the tears rolling down her cheeks at her release, but he kissed them away and then noisily followed her into his own blissful oblivion. Long before Lenora had even resurfaced from her own torpor, he rolled off her, still panting and tucked her into his side. Sleepily, Lenora placed a hand on his chest and felt the rise and fall as his breathing recovered to a normal pace. At some point her own e
yes drifted shut and she felt him lightly kiss their lids. Comforted, she fell into a deep unbroken sleep.
When next she woke it was to the gray light of dawn. Turning her head, she was greatly relieved to see Garman lying on his back next to her, one hand resting under his head. He gave her a grin that set her heart fluttering, before leaning over and dropping a kiss on her lips.
“Morning, wife.”
“For a moment, I was scared it had all been a dream,” she admitted drowsily.
His arm closed around her. “You slept like the dead. I’ve been lying here waiting for you to wake.”
“Did you not sleep at all?” she asked, startled.
“Aye, on and off.” He looked evasive before admitting, “I wanted to watch over you.”
“I told you there were no nightmares.”
He snorted. “You also told me I was the best of husbands.”
She smiled, as memories from the day before flitted into her head. He had come to her; he loved her and could not live without her. Then her eyes widened as she remembered the agreement she had wrung out of him. “Did you really meant what you said about living here at Twyford Castle?” she blurted.
He nodded, looking relaxed. “Of course.”
“To change your plans so swiftly—” she marveled, but he cut her short.
“Let’s not rehash it,” he said with a frown. “I meant every word. In truth, there is no condition you could have set that I would not have agreed to.” He gave a wry smile. “You held all the cards.”
“But I—”
“My love,” he said, pulling her firmly against him. “You want to live here, and I want to keep you happy.”
“Yes, but please let me explain,” Lenora said, trying to slide out of his grip and face him. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do,” he said, retaining his hold on her with ease. “I want to make you my countess. That means I have certain responsibilities to face up to. My grandfather has been giving me hell,” he admitted. “Pointing out just that fact.” He frowned. “He’s never shouted or railed at me before this, you know.”
“Grandfather Sutton shouted at you?”
“He called me a bloody-minded young fool,” Garman said dryly. “And said he would wash his hands of me altogether if I did not set things to rights with you.” He gave a short laugh. “It was by far the most natural conversation we’ve ever had. I cursed at him and he swore back at me, quite purple in the face.” He looked thoughtful. “I didn’t even know he knew such words.”
“He must have been a good deal upset!” Lenora exclaimed. “He’s always so unfailingly polite!”
“That always bothered me.” Garman frowned. “I always felt that he saw me as his master and not his grandson.”
“He loves you very much, and you really need to work at your relationship,” Lenora said sternly.
Garman’s frown relaxed. “Yes, I know,” he said, running a fingertip between her breasts.
Lenora caught his hand in hers. “Stop trying to distract me, for I have several things to clarify.”
He laughed. “Do your worst.”
She took a deep breath. “What did you mean when you asked last night if I knew what kind of person I was?”
A shadow stole over his face. “I meant you are the best kind,” he answered promptly. “It bothered me a great deal at Kellingford, when you said you were nothing and it did not signify what became of you.” He gave her a piercing look. “That it did not matter what manner of man you married.”
Lenora flushed. “Oh, that.” She plucked at the bed covers. “My opinion of my self-worth has risen a good deal since then.”
“Good.”
She peeped up at him. “And my opinion of you, naturally.”
“Naturally,” he agreed dryly and when he went to reach for her, she stayed his arm.
“I do like the person I am now,” she said earnestly. “Becoming this person is what made me whole. Does that make sense? I mean, it was worth losing my beauty to become someone both capable of love and worthy of loving.”
He frowned over this a moment. “I like your looks, Lenora.” He reached out and ran his thumb down the skin of her jaw. “These marks show how you suffered and overcame. They are far more interesting than mere perfection.”
She swallowed. “I would like to know when you fell in love with me,” she admitted wistfully.
There was a heavy pause before he spoke with a groan. “I think it was when you showed me your eyelids.”
“My eyelids?”
He gave a short nod. “Aye,” he said gruffly. Then his frown deepened. “Then you flirted with that guard and I wanted to punch him in the face.”
Lenora felt she was losing track of the conversation. “I don’t think I—?”
“Then you were just so fucking distracting and unexpected. I didn’t know what the hell to think,” he said, shaking his head. “I already knew by the time we were married, that I was in big trouble. But it was too late. I was already in over my head.”
Lenora stared at him. “You mean when I showed you my eyelids after I proposed to you?”
“Of course.” He sounded slightly impatient.
“Of course?” Lenora echoed. “But that was from the very outset. You can’t possibly have—”
“Yes, from the outset,” he insisted. “I just didn’t realize what was happening.”
Lenora thought this over in stupefied silence.
“I never wanted to call a woman my own. Not before you.”
Lenora held her breath. “Oh.”
“But with you, I wanted that almost from the start.” He sent a troubled look her way. “You remember how I made that priest bind us? I should have known then.”
Gently, she stroked the back of his neck. “You’re not in trouble, Garman, because I’m going to be a very good wife to you.”
He smiled grimly. “You’d better be… otherwise I’ll be disgracing us both.”
“Nonsense,” she said lightly. “You just require careful handling on my part.”
“Lots of handling,” he corrected her, sliding his own hands over her hips and around to cup her bottom. “Lots and lots of handling. Even then, I’ll likely show you up now and again.”
She had smiled at the literal mention of handling, but that faded now. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said with some spirit. “I would never be ashamed of you.”
“You would if you’d seen how I’ve been carrying on this last week.” He winced. “My grandfather pulling out his hair. All his servants muttering and disapproving of the way I drove you away with my sullen ways.”
“That wouldn’t drive me away.”
“Even Huw told me I was a damn fool to let you go. Ivo said I would end up bitter and lonely.”
“Really?”
He nodded; shamefaced.
“And they both agree to marrying your cousins?” Lenora pressed.
His eyes slid to hers. “Aye, but don’t ask me for details of their decision, as that’s all a blur to me. A miserable, wretched blur.”
“They told me you spent some of it drunk as a lord.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “I don’t want to talk about them, Lenora. They can figure things out for themselves.”
“But you’ll be civil to your cousins,” she said anxiously. “They have been very welcoming to me and—”
“Aye, I know that,” he growled. “Magda was singing your praises to me last night.”
“I want to be good to them, Garman,” she said softly. “They have not had an easy life.”
That seemed to give him pause for thought. “Very well,” he agreed. “If that’s what you want.”
Lenora gave a happy sigh. “I’m not sure when precisely I fell in love with you,” she admitted dreamily. “I only know that I felt so put out when you kept scurrying off to the Hainfroys, that I realized I was actually jealous for the first time in my life!”
“Jealous of the Hainfroys?” He looked startled and
disbelieving.
“Yes, for I feared you preferred their company to mine.”
“Never.”
“I suppose that means I must have fallen for you at Kellingford,” she mused. “But you kept confusing me by backing off in horror whenever we grew close, so I did not realize it as I should.”
He winced. “I was a damned jealous mess at Kellingford. Next time we attend a tournament, I’ll handle it better. At least,” he added scrupulously. “I’ll try.”
She smiled up at him and felt her own eyes shining.
“Gods, Lenora,” he said. “I’ll do anything to keep you looking at me like that.”
“Who do you think put this expression on my face in the first place,” she murmured as she reached up to bring his face down level to hers. “It was you,” she whispered and kissed him.
Epilogue
One month later
Garman walked down from the stables in the direction of the Grange. He had meant every word when he said his cousins and the Hainfroys would have to work things out for themselves. Still, after spending four weeks at Twyford Castle, occasionally, very occasionally during a quiet moment, he would feel a twinge of unease about his hasty action in marrying them off so precipitately to each other. Lenora said he was at last growing a conscience, but he wasn’t so sure about that.
As he reached the door, he steeled himself for a flood of complaints – half of which would no doubt come from Berta, who he was starting to suspect was habitually foul tempered. Certainly, he had noticed no sweetening of her nature since she had been transplanted from Matchings Farm. Lenora met with her every market day and implored Berta to join them at Twyford Castle if she was truly unhappy, but the old woman refused to budge another inch. “I been hassled from pillar to post already,” she would grumble. “And shall be worrited into an early grave at this rate!”
Garman was hard-pressed to retain a sympathetic look on his face while Lenora updated him about Berta’s woes, though he just about managed it in the main. He certainly was not keen for the old crone to get her feet back under his table. Hawise and most of the farm staff had accompanied his grandfather to Twyford Castle and were rubbing along tolerably well with Oates and the other retainers. The last thing he wanted was Berta coming along and upsetting the delicate balance.
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 42
