“How long do you imagine it will take for us to ‘become acquainted’ with one another?”
Yes!
This was important. If she answered too long a time period, he would scoff at her request. Too short, and she would not have time to convince him to send her home.
She took a deep breath. “A fortnight.”
Adam nearly spat out his wine.
“Think on it, my lord! Most couples are well acquainted, betrothed for years. They’ve become accustomed to the idea while I…well…I just learned of this marriage a few weeks ago. I’d never even heard of my future husband before. And we just met this morn. Wouldn’t it be much more enjoyable if we were both comfortable?
He looked anything but comfortable at the moment. In fact, he looked like he wanted to break something.
“Please?” She blinked and opened her eyes wide.
“A fortnight,” he said.
But before she could respond, he added, “And if, at the end of that time, you don’t feel properly ‘acquainted,’ we will get to know each other another way. As husband and wife.”
His meaning was clear. She had no alternative but to acquiesce.
“Aye, I agree.” She smiled, relaxed for the first time all evening. “Don’t you feel so much better?”
“Nay, I do not.”
But he didn’t move. Cora had expected him to leave now that they’d finalized their agreement, but instead he stood, refilled his cup, and walked toward her with the flagon. She lifted her goblet, and he filled it nearly to the top.
“To our marriage.” Cora was feeling generous.
Adam, still surly, lifted his cup and drank deeply.
“What was it like, growing up at Kenshire?” she asked.
Cora was genuinely curious about the English earl who’d earned her father’s respect. And she knew from her father men typically did not endure endless questions well.
Adam leaned back, stretching and crossing his legs in front of him. Even they were muscled. Finely so.
“I have no complaints.”
“That’s all you have to say? You have no complaints?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Nay, I do not.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. It would be a long fortnight if this was his manner of carrying on a conversation. “Tell me about the earl.”
“Why so curious? Most Scots would not trouble themselves to know so much.”
“I am not most Scots. My father has been brokering for peace along the border with your English earl for as long as I can remember.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“He is a fine man. None finer, truth be told. It is an honor to serve him—and even more so to have been given such a high position in his household.”
“Raised like a son.”
Adam’s face softened, if only a little. “Aye. He has given me everything, and I shall do the same for him.”
So her husband was fiercely loyal to his overlord. As he should be.
“And Sir Richard?”
He smiled broadly, his white teeth visible even in the semi-darkness. Her heart hammered in her chest. No matter how she willed herself not to react to him, these new feelings were not so easily controlled.
“If I could have chosen a brother, it would have been Richard. I’ve yet to meet a man or maid not instantly enamored with him.”
“I would imagine the same is said about you.” She had not intended to say that.
Adam leaned forward, watching her with those dizzying hazel eyes.
“You have no natural siblings?” she asked, almost too quickly.
He didn’t want to talk about it. And for a moment, Cora thought he would not answer her question.
“Aye, a sister who died in childbirth. My mother nearly did not survive.”
His features softened.
“She was not quite the same afterwards. Still kind and gentle. I remember her fondly. But not the same as before my sister was born.”
Adam stopped talking as abruptly as he started. “I have not spoken those words aloud before,” he said.
“I should not have asked.”
His gaze did not waver. “Aye, you should have. You are my wife. There shall be no secrets between us.” Adam reached out to set down his goblet. Then he stood and grabbed her hand so fast she nearly spilled her wine.
Before she knew what he intended, Adam had pulled her so close they nearly touched.
“But you promised!” He could not do this. If he kept pursuing her, she would bend to him—she felt herself leaning closer to him even now—and she would be stuck in England forever.
“Relax, my nervous little dove. I do not break a promise. You shall remain a maid this eve.”
Her shoulders sank and she tried to breathe normally.
Adam took her hand as he’d done in the hall, but this time he brought it to his lips.
“But you said nothing of this.” He kissed the top of her hand and then turned it around. Cora could see the green flecks in the light brown of his eyes as he continued to watch her. “Or this.” He kissed her wrist and flicked his tongue against it.
That feeling again, deep inside her. Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.
Cora knew she should pull away—her plan depended on it—but she could not.
In one swift motion, he released her hand and pulled her even closer. She had no further warning before Adam lowered his head and placed his lips on hers. She wasn’t sure what to do.
“Open your mouth for me, Cora.”
“Open my—”
He lowered his head again and covered her lips with his own. His hands cupped her face, holding her in place. And then she felt his tongue.
What is he doing?
As if he could hear her silent question, he touched his tongue to hers and showed her what to do. Cora could not summon the will to make him stop. Nay, she didn’t want him to stop.
And then he pulled away from her. Had she done something wrong? Cora nearly asked the question aloud before she caught herself. She stepped back, still breathing heavily.
“A fortnight,” he said, then abruptly turned and walked out of her chamber.
What had just happened?
This was not the way to convince him to set her aside. Tomorrow, she would do better.
5
Three days had passed since the wedding, and Cora was miserable.
Her father had left the day before, along with the rest of the contingent from her clan. And while Cora was grateful for Clare, who had done everything possible to make her feel welcome, she missed her own handmaiden. Missed the companionship of her mother and sister.
Missed her home.
She nearly opened the letter her mother gave her, but something stopped her. She didn’t need to read it. Cora would be going home to see her mother, and they could talk about the letter’s contents.
Though none were outright rude to her here, Cora sensed a certain wariness from the servants. They treated her with respect, but with the exception of Clare, most looked at her as if she were, well, Scottish.
And then there was Adam.
While he made no mention of their agreement, he continued to visit her each night after she retired for the evening. As many questions as she asked, Adam answered openly and without resentment. She was beginning to think he did not mind their conversations and reluctantly admired his genuine interest in their companionship. Luckily, the incident on the evening of the wedding had not been repeated. Even so, she awoke each morning with a tingling on her lips, thinking of that kiss.
She was glad he had not tested her will again.
Now that her father was no longer a witness, Cora planned to begin her campaign to end her marriage. Although she rose early, Adam had already broken his fast and left the hall. He spent his days training, inspecting the land, and visiting Langford’s village. Which boded well for her plan.
“Charles,” she said to the steward who had just entered the hall, “will you sh
ow me the property this morning?”
The steward’s shoulder-length white hair reminded Cora of her grandfather. Her memories of the man were mostly faded, but she remembered the vivid stories he used to tell the children by the hearth and how he’d always chuck her under the chin.
“It would be my pleasure, my lady.”
Charles left to speak with a man Cora didn’t recognize, a knight by the look of him, and returned just as she finished her meal.
They spent most of the day inspecting every room in the castle and its gardens. But there was one particular area of interest for her today—the kitchen. She knew, unlike the past few days, Adam planned to be present for the mid-day meal. Luckily, the cook was more than happy to accommodate her request for “a course that reminded her of home.”
Dressed in a simple, pale-blue day gown, her hair unbound—as was her custom—Cora greeted Adam with a smile when he arrived at the great hall for the busiest meal of the day.
He had arrived just in time to enjoy Cook’s creation.
“Good afternoon, my lady.”
“Sir Adam.”
“Ale, if you please,” he instructed the serving woman, who handed him a bowl of cullen stink soup.
Cora watched as he distractedly lifted his spoon to his mouth. Though she was eager to watch him, she tried not to stare, shifting her gaze instead to a group of knights sitting beneath them at the well-worn trestle tables. One stared back, and he looked none too pleased.
“What in God’s name…”
Adam’s face had twisted into a pucker. Most of those who’d tried the soup, not accustomed to its bitter taste, were making much the same face.
“Is something amiss, my lord?”
He pushed aside the first course and reached for a hunk of bread.
“Aye, I’ve not tasted anything so foul since—”
“Yes?” she asked sweetly, letting herself look at him.
Dressed in nothing more than hose and a loose linen shirt, Adam looked every bit like a man who had spent his morning in the training yard. His hair was more disheveled than usual. He’d covered himself up on all of his evening visits since their wedding night, but Cora couldn’t help but think of what lay underneath the thin cloth of his shirt.
“Cora?”
She’d been caught staring.
“Do you have some insight into today’s menu?”
She tasted the soup and was quite impressed by its quality.
“Do you like it?”
If she looked at him, she’d surely laugh. She didn’t want Adam to know she had deliberately sabotaged him.
“Like it?” He pointed to the dozen or so men eating bread and cheese as they waited for the next course. “What do you think?”
She feigned injury, giving him a pouty look. “It’s considered a delicacy back home. Surely you wouldn’t deny me some familiarity with my homeland?”
He pushed the bowl away.
“Odd. I had understood the border customs to be much like our own.”
“If you’ll remember, my lord, we are no longer at the border. It’s less than two full days’ ride to London.”
Adam’s face looked as if he’d taken another taste of the soup.
“You don’t like London?”
He shook his head. “Having been raised in Northumbria, I prefer the country. Langford suits me well.”
It did not suit her at all, but Cora remained silent. She reluctantly agreed with his preference for a more simple life. Her impression from the Scottish nobles she interacted with left much to be desired.
“Then you won’t mind that I’ve asked Charles to send for a tailor?” She hurried to continue. “Rather than travel to London, I could be fitted for a new wardrobe here, at Langford.”
Cora had no use for new gowns, but Adam need not know that.
“I…of course. I will be looking at accounts this afternoon.”
She feigned delight. “Oh, I do love assisting with the household accounts. Where shall I meet you? In the solar?”
At home, her father had never allowed her to manage such things even though she could read and write. The suggestion was highly irregular, and Cora knew Adam would be none too pleased with the prospect, especially since she’d implied she liked to spend money as a sport.
Which was why she had suggested it.
“You understand, of course, that embedded jewels are quite popular at the moment. Not just as adornments but all throughout the gown.”
Cora didn’t give Adam an opportunity to answer.
“When we do attend court, there will be a higher standard for me. Being Scottish and all. We must travel to London eventually, you know.”
She smiled brightly and almost felt sorry for her poor husband, who looked more than a bit dismayed.
Cora stood. “I shall meet you and Charles shortly. Until then.”
He simply stared at her.
Cora nearly ran from the hall before he could deny her request. She walked so quickly that she ran straight into a messenger being escorted toward Adam. The dusty young man, who clearly had traveled some distance to reach Langford, offered his apologies and made his way to the lord, accompanied by Charles.
She stopped to watch the exchange for a moment and then exited the hall. Though she didn’t intend to remain at Langford, Cora planned to speak to the head gardener. She figured the least she could do for the kindness Clare—and, yes, Adam—had shown to her here was to leave her mark on the paltry assortment of flowers that was Langford’s garden. Though the herbs and spices were plentiful, no ornamental flowers or greenery softened the approach to the keep’s entrance.
She planned to rectify that when she wasn’t busy planning ways to make Adam’s life miserable.
Cora was making his life hell. The sweet, comely maid he married was proving to be a bit of a hoyden. To be fair, “sweet” may never have been the right word to describe his wife.
First, her ridiculous insistence on waiting to consummate their marriage. Adam had made more than one visit to the nearby river to take a cold swim to douse his ever-growing desire for the Scottish lass now occupying the room adjacent to his own. Her sudden fascination with attending court. Her fascination with being gowned in the height of fashion. Then she had insisted on attending his meeting with Charles after that horrible lunch she’d arranged with Cook. Cora had asked dozens of questions, making it damn near impossible for them to get anything accomplished.
He should have told her to leave. But she’d reminded him earlier that she had been displaced from her home, and Adam wanted her to know she had a new one. Ultimately, he’d left the task to his wife and steward.
He’d spent the remainder of the day inspecting buildings and hadn’t returned to the keep until after dark. All day, his thoughts had been fixed on the messenger who’d arrived earlier in the day from Kenshire. Richard was on his way to Langford. He would arrive as early as the following morning. Though he always welcomed a visit from his friend, his brother, Richard could not know that he and Cora had not yet consummated their marriage. There was the rub: Richard, more astute than most, would immediately guess that something was amiss.
Now, after the evening meal, which was laden with Scottish delicacies, he stood in his bedchamber waiting for Cora. No doubt she would not be happy to hear of their altered sleeping arrangements. Well, he was not happy about the prospect of never again eating a decent meal in his own home.
The door within his chamber creaked open.
“My lord, you asked to see me?”
The hour was late, but the fire and the candles arranged throughout the chamber cast warm light on his wife.
He could not do it. He couldn’t possibly sleep next to her while keeping his word…
Adam smiled at the stricken look on her face.
“I promise not to ravish you the moment you step inside.” He smirked. “Although I cannot apologize for looking at you as if I might do just that.”
She remained at the threshold.<
br />
“Come in, Cora. I’ll explain.” He held out a goblet of wine, pleased when she stepped forward to accept it. His hand brushed her hip as he moved to close the door.
“You must stay here tonight.”
Rather than comment, she glided past him. “Your chamber is larger than I imagined it would be.”
That she had imagined this bedchamber at all was encouraging.
“It seems Langford’s original owners had a predilection for privacy. The solar is a
separate chamber, as you know. This room is used primarily for sleeping.”
“Why?”
“Why is it used for sleeping, or why are you here?” He knew the answer she sought but wanted to get her mind off the fact that she stood within his reach in nothing more than a chemise. Though not as thin as the one she had worn on their wedding night, it nonetheless left little to his imagination.
“You say you’ll keep your word, so why must I sleep here?”
She was nervous.
He sat on the edge of the bed, its thick coverlet and feather mattress sinking under his weight. “Richard is coming.” He drank deeply from his goblet, the smooth spiced wine a welcome relief.
“I don’t understand.”
He didn’t want to explain it to her. Adam didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted to pull his wife onto the bed and make love to her. He wanted to feel the overabundant breasts that peeked out from beneath the thin piece of fabric that was the only barrier between his hands and her naked body.
He wanted Cora more than he’d ever wanted a woman. Ironic that he’d had an easier time bedding women who were not his wife.
“He cannot know about our ‘arrangement.’”
“Hmm.” She turned and moved closer to the fire. While the room was not as large as most great chambers, its stone fireplace was an impressive structure.
Adam now had a perfect view of her impressive backside.
“What would happen if he knew?”
Her red hair looked as if it were on fire. He certainly was. Adam couldn’t take much more of this temptation.
“He would tease me mercilessly. Worse, he may carry the tale back to Spencer.” And that was to be avoided at all costs. He’d never before disappointed the earl, and it would chafe if the first time it happened was because he’d failed in this—consummating his marriage with the beautiful woman standing before him.
The Ward's Bride (Border Series Prequel Novella) Page 4
