His Forsaken Bride (Vawdrey Brothers Book 2)

by Alice Coldbreath

  Oswald slid out of his chauses and pounced on her. “How many’s that?”

  “Um.”

  “Good,” he said, dragging her shift up and over her head.

  “That’s only two scandals,” she said breathlessly, as he tossed her shift over the side of the bed.

  He lifted an eyelid. “What’s the third, Fenella?” he asked so softly that her mind went blank.

  “I can’t quite remember-” her breath hitched. “Give me a moment-”

  “Too late.” He rolled her under him and they became a tangle of limbs, mouths, longing and need. Fen cried out way too soon, but he was relentless, despite his words about going easy on her. As he drove into her, his face above hers, his gaze intent and filled with something that made her chest clench, Fen wrapped her arms and legs around him and sobbed as she was shaken by release again, and felt him reach it within her, and groan deeply against her neck. He rolled them onto their sides and held her close as their heartbeats calmed and their breath returned.

  “Stay like this,” he said gruffly, when Fen went to unhook her uppermost leg from his hip. Then he kissed her tenderly, his hand sliding up and over her hip to her waist and then back down again in a comforting caress.

  Fen drew back her face to look at him. Tentatively, she raised a hand to his face and ran it through the lock of hair that had fallen across his brow, and stroked her fingers over his cheek.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “How do you feel about scandalous portraits of your wife?” she asked nervously. “Now that we’ve established you don’t care about unsanctioned elopements.”

  Oswald gazed back at her. “Scandalous portraits?” he repeated. “I take them entirely in my stride. Once they’re firmly in my possession, of course.”

  At the return of the husband she knew and loved, Fen gave a sob and craned instinctively closer to him.

  “Fenella, don’t!” he said in a tender voice. “I don’t want to ever make you cry again, my darling. Mason told me you were on the brink of tears watching that ridiculous play. I hate myself for not noticing how much it upset you.” He stroked his thumbs down her cheeks. “It was so far from truth that I could not take it seriously. I never dreamed that you would be so hurt by it.”

  Fen closed her eyes a moment and reopened them. “It’s just that it played on my worst fears,” she explained. “Being – unwanted – and-”

  She found her chin tipped up again by insistent fingertips.

  “Never, never that,” he said in a shaken voice. “Never think that.”

  Fen stared at his expression, and found her darkest fears slipping away. It was a few moments before either of them spoke, and when he did, it was in a thoughtful, reflective manner.

  “I think, on some level,” Oswald said. “I knew you were mine, when you sailed into my office that day with your brother on your heels. I was certainly determined not to let you out of it until it was settled your place was with me.”

  Fen gazed at him. “I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t read you at all then,” she admitted. “I thought you were angry”

  “Angry?” he sounded startled. “Why?”

  Fen cast her mind back. “I sat down and looked up at you, and you were glaring at me.”

  Oswald’s frown cleared. “That was because your fool brother made you fetch your own chair.”

  Fen opened her mouth to defend Gil. “He is a bit of a fool,” she found herself admitting instead. “It’s a good job he’s marrying a woman of character.”

  “Is he?”

  She didn’t get the chance to answer as he leaned forward and kissed her lingeringly on the lips again, before pulling back and rolling out of the bed.

  “Husband, wait!” blurted Fen, struggling to sit up.

  “I’m not going anywhere,’ he answered, turning to show the jug of water he’d gone to fetch from the table.

  “Oh,” feeling rather foolish, Fen pulled the sheets up around her to try and preserve her modesty, even though he was walking round entirely naked.

  Oswald was draining his cup. “Fen,” he started. “You need to understand that leaving me is never acceptable. No matter what the misunderstanding, or even if I act like an ass.”

  “Well, you see-,” she said.

  “I’m never going to be a reasonable husband,” he carried on as if she hadn’t even spoken. “When I said that to you, I was lying. I can’t even tell you I wasn’t aware that I was lying because I knew full well that I was lying through my teeth and I didn’t care. I would have said anything to make you mine again. And I didn’t even realize that I loved you then.”

  Fen stared. ‘What?’ she said faintly.

  “It’s true. I didn’t even spend an instant in your company, that day you walked into my office prattling on about another fucking man, without realizing that you were all mine. I didn’t remember our betrothal for whatever reason,” he waved a hand. “You were a child and so was I to all intents and purposes. I refuse to feel guilty about that.” He pressed his thumb and finger against his eyes. “I’m tired of pretending to have reason when it comes to you. Because I don’t. Not one scrap. I’m not going to pretend anymore, so you’re going to have to get used to it.”

  Prattling about another man? Fen’s brain reeled to find out that was truly how Oswald viewed things. She’d been divorced by her husband of eight years and he viewed it as unnecessary chatter about another male! She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. He ignored it. “Um, Oswald…”.

  “I’ve bought us a town-house in Aphrany,” he carried on steadily. “And we’ll have to buy another place, close to the summer court, where we can live when the King is at Caer Lyonnes. It seems, unlike the majority of the rest of the royal court, I cannot bear to be apart from my wife.”

  “A town house?” she gasped after a stunned moment. “Like the Robertses?“

  “You want to live in your own household, so that’s what we will do.”

  She stared. “Is it really so simple?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Yes.” His gaze was wandering down from her face to where the sheet was slipping down. She realized she was going to have to at least try before things turned physical again. “Husband,” she started resolutely. That bought his eyes snapping straight back to hers. “I may have only been fifteen,” she said with dignity. “But I did love you. It broke my heart when our betrothal was ended, and that’s probably why I didn’t love Ambrose like I should have,” she hurried her words, anticipating his reaction. “But our marriage has now healed me, she placed a hand against her heart. “So, I find I can now love you with my whole heart…”

  “What are you saying now?” he interrupted her sharply.

  “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me,” she carried on firmly. “I can prove it over the next fifty years or so of marriage and one day you will…” she bit off her words as Oswald plunked down the water jug and walked back to the bed.

  “What did you say?”

  She took a deep breath. “I said that I didn’t love Ambrose and that I only ever loved you.”

  He pursed his lips. “You should be very careful bandying around words like that.”

  “No more than you,” she answered pertly. “And now you can see that embarrassing tapestry, on a daily basis, so you must have known it already.”

  “What’s embarrassing about it?”

  Fen’s head snapped up to look at him. “Did you not recognize yourself?” she asked. “You are the one with the pink roses all round your head.”

  He looked confused. “That’s me? I thought that was an angel,” he admitted.

  She huffed. “That’s how I saw you at the time,” she admitted, color creeping into her cheeks.

  A slow smile lit up Oswald’s face. “Angelic?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s sweet.” He placed his palms on the mattress and lowered his head, so their brows were touching.

  “It was very foolish,” she said avoiding his gaze.

  �
�I’m not angelic, Fen.” His voice was low and regretful.

  “I know that now!”

  “But you still love me?” he asked lightly.

  “Yes!”

  “You never loved…” he paused. “Anyone else?”

  “I never loved Ambrose, no. And he could probably tell, poor man.”

  She felt him relax a little against her. It really was remarkable; she marveled that he could hold so much animosity toward Ambrose when she felt practically nothing for him these days. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I really am going to try to be a better courtier, to match you,” she assured him.

  “I forbid you to even try.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged again. “I want you to direct all your efforts into other channels.”

  “A better wife then?” she hazarded. “Less jealous and more understanding?”

  He frowned. “Is that what you want from me? You’re not getting it.”

  Fen gasped and then laughed. “No, that wasn’t what I meant…”

  “You can be as jealous as you want. Not that I give you any cause.”

  She just about forbore from pointing out that she didn’t give him any cause either. “What do you want me to direct my effort at then?” she asked in puzzlement.

  “Loving me,” he said simply.

  “Oh.” Fen found tears were pricking her eyes. “But that takes no effort at all.”

  He eased onto the bed beside her. “So, now we’ve finally got all that out in the open,” he said rolling into her. “Is there anything else we need to discuss, before I ravish you to within an inch of your life?”

  Fen started to relax, but then remembered the portrait. She stiffened. “Um. We probably should discuss the painting signor Arnotti did of me,” she said with a catch in her voice.

  Oswald frowned. “Are you depicted nude?” he asked calmly.

  “No,” acknowledged Fen, before adding conscientiously, “But he did not paint me wearing what I posed in.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What are you painted wearing?”

  “Some kind of diaphanous fabric,” said Fen uneasily. “You can see my legs. And…things.”

  “Things?”

  “Well, not see them, but they’re sort of…hinted at,” said Fen painstakingly. “Eden explained that signor Arnotti portrayed me as a goddess.” She winced, “Reclining on a cloud.”

  Oswald sighed, propping himself up on the pillows. “And where is this portrait now?”

  “I’m not really sure,” Fen admitted. “Eden has it, but she said she would send it along to our rooms. She thought it should be exhibited, but I said not without your permission. I was so upset after viewing it, that I sort of rushed off in a blind panic and…That’s when I started packing my things.” Her voice wobbled. “I thought you would never forgive me.”

  “Oh Fen,” Oswald’s voice was contrite as he cupped her face. “Foolish Fen. I never had any intention of sending you down to the country. Even when I was saying it, I never meant it. Not in my heart. Even when I was furious with you, I had every intention of keeping you firmly attached to my side.”

  “What about…after that awful play?” she asked in a small voice.

  Oswald’s lips twitched. “The only part that bothered me about that ridiculous play, was the idea that you still weren’t over Thane.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and then settled back against the pillows. “Mason told me you had given the manuscript to Hester Schaeffer, and then I realized you had tried to mitigate things. That calmed me down considerably. By the time we went to bed that night, I was already over it.” She rolled into his side and he ran a comforting hand down her back. “I’m sorry I kept over-reacting,” he said ruefully. “It’s the strangest thing, I’ve always considered myself the most even-tempered Vawdrey in existence. Then you came along and shattered my equanimity to a thousand pieces.”

  Fen hid her face in his side. “That’s what the King said,” she admitted in a muffled voice. “He said I shouldn’t practice my womanly arts on you.”

  Oswald gave a choked laugh, and Fen peered up at him. “You don’t need to tell me that. The King is all too aware that I have completely lost my mind over you.”

  “Are you laughing because you don’t think I have any female tricks?” asked Fen, giving him a light pinch to his side.

  His smile broadened. “Never, I know only too well that you are full of tricks, wife. You have enough to keep me occupied for the next sixty years at least. However, having recently come to terms with my possessive side, I am almost certain that I will want this portrait for my own private viewing pleasure and no-one else’s. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

  “Not at all,” Fen hastened to assure him, and laid her head against his bare chest. Then she remembered something and lifted a troubled gaze to his. “There was just one other thing I think we should talk about…” she said.

  Oswald tucked his hands behind his head, looking unconcerned. “And what is that, wife?”

  Fen took a deep breath. “Your plans to build yourself a palace.”

  Oswald’s brows snapped together. “A palace?” he repeated blankly.

  She nodded. “Several people have mentioned it to me, yet you yourself never have. I wondered why.”

  He seemed to ponder this a moment. “It was more of a country estate than a palace,” he corrected her. “Only since we’ve been married, I haven’t given it much thought. I haven’t dragged out the plans in months. And I used to pore over them well into the early hours of the morning. Almost obsessively.”

  “Why did you stop?” Fen asked.

  He frowned. “I think,” he said slowly. “that at the time, it was the only thing I had in my life that I derived any relaxation or pleasure from. If I had a trying day, I’d get out the plans and add in a moat or another turret. I was planning for some unspecified time in the future when I’d have time for diversion or recreation.”

  Fen opened her mouth and then closed it again.

  “I suppose this isn’t really going to make any sense to you.”

  Fen grasped her courage and admitted: “I feared that perhaps you didn’t want to share it with me,” she said in a small voice.

  He was quiet a moment and Fen steeled herself to hear the worst. After all, he was a very private man, and she had rather forced herself into his life.

  “Have you been worrying about this?” asked Oswald incredulously. To her surprise, his tone was more accusatory than anything.

  Fen closed her eyes and swallowed. “Well – you’d be perfectly entitled to have-”

  “How many times, Fenella Vawdrey?” he demanded. “Have I told you that if something is bothering you, you are to come directly to me?”

  “Yes, but-”

  “No,” he said firmly. “I would not be entitled to plan a future that did not include my wife in it.”

  Fen looked at his expression and could see he was deadly serious. Despite the fact he was looking rather grim, her mood swooped up and lifted a few notches. “So, your palace?” she said. “Why are you no longer planning for it?”

  Oswald hitched a shoulder, impatiently. “Well, I don’t plan to retire for a few years yet anyway and frankly I don’t feel the need to build a legacy of that kind anymore-”

  “No, you misunderstand me,” Fen interrupted him painstakingly. “I mean, why do you no longer want to spend your leisure time drawing up your plans?”

  Oswald crooked an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?” he asked. “I have better things to do with my evenings these days.”

  Fen continued to look at him expectantly. Then the penny dropped. “You mean me?”

  He gave a choked laugh. “I hope I would not be so blunt.”

  Fen rested her head back against his shoulder with a sigh. “You make me very happy too,” she said softly. His arms came down to wrap around her and hold her tight and they lay quietly a moment. Then she asked, “What kind of legacy do you want now?”

  His hand
slid down to rest on her stomach. “Has it occurred to you, that in the three months we’ve been married, you’ve not had your women’s time once? Oswald asked.

  Fen stared at him. “I’m always very regular,” she blurted in surprise. “But you’re right, I haven’t…” Her eyes widened. “Do you suppose-?”

  “I do,” said Oswald softly, his hand still resting on her belly. “I think you might be carrying my legacy.” Fen laid her hand on top of his and their eyes met. Then his hands shifted to her hips and he urged her up his body. “I want you on top this time.”

  “What about the mattress?” asked Fen as she shifted over him. It was sagging in an alarming fashion.

  “Go slow,” her husband recommended with a grin.

  **

  “How did you know I would be here?” she asked him after she’d collapsed on top of him some twenty minutes later.

  “Meldon.”

  “How?”

  “He left a message for me, with Trudy.”

  “That sly fox,” said Fen indignantly. Then she seemed to reconsider. “I suppose really, he’s my guardian angel.”

  Oswald snorted. “Meldon’s even less angelic than I am. Don’t you dare turn him into a haloed tapestry.”

  Fen gurgled with laughter.

  “Old scoundrel still thinks I’m wet behind the ears,” complained Oswald.

  “Actually,” said Fen raising her head, “He referred to you as ‘the master’ today. It was the first time I’ve ever heard him call you that.”

  “Well, today was the first time I learned he has a first name,” said Oswald. “It’s Walter. Walter Meldon. I still haven’t recovered from the shock.”

  “He doesn’t really look like a Walter,” Fen agreed.

  “I’m exhausted,” Oswald yawned. “You’ve worn me out. Emotionally and physically.”

  Fen smiled against his chest.

  “There is just one thing I ought to say,” said Oswald reluctantly. “I lied earlier. When I said I didn’t feel guilty about jilting you over our betrothal. I do. I think we should renew our wedding vows at the earliest opportunity.”