by Kris Tualla
Eryn saw Drew standing at the front of the church with the priest. She waited for him to turn around and see her, hoping he would be pleased at how she looked. She wasn’t disappointed.
His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. A smile seeped over his features turning their hard planes into soft curves. His golden eyes crinkled at the corners. His cheeks heightened in color.
Eryn sucked a slow breath. Her tall, muscular, soon-to-be-husband looked a black-haired god. She walked toward him, her gut tangling and her heart jumping.
This marriage was either a gift from God, or a deal with the devil. She wondered how quickly she would know the answer.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Eryn waited in the bed at the Bedford Inn. She wore her best nightdress and worried that it wasn’t fine enough for the occasion. A shy smiled curled her lips.
I don’t expect to wear it for long.
The wedding mass was very beautiful, and the communal meal delicious. And through it all, her nerves tingled in anticipation of what would transpire tonight. She closed her eyes and immersed herself in the memory of the last time Drew bedded her.
It was the night of the English rescue. She was filthy and starving and exhausted, but after he saw to her needs, he came to her bed. He loved her with an urgency bred of near loss. In doing so, he carried her completely outside of herself. Nothing in her imaginings of the congress between a man and a woman came close to what she experienced under Drew’s skilled ministrations.
And now he was her husband. For the rest of her life, he would be sharing her bed and loving her with the same expertise. Starting tonight. Her lower parts warmed and grew damp.
She opened her eyes and stared at the door, willing it to open.
“What’s taking him so long?” she whispered.
She fiddled with the ribbon that tied the neck of her gown.
She glanced at the fire. Afraid it would need feeding at a critical moment, she threw the bedcovers back, ran on tiptoes across the room, and tossed in another log. Then she hurried back across the cold wooden floor and leapt back under the covers, pulling them to her neck.
And she waited some more.
“Drew!” she huffed. “Where are you?”
Another ten minutes passed.
Footsteps outside her door. The latch clicked. The door swung open.
“I was afraid you forgot about me,” Eryn half-teased. She sat up and let her gown fall over one shoulder. “Are you coming to bed?”
Drew carefully closed the door. Then he turned to face her. “No, Eryn. I’m not,” he said softly.
Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t understand…”
He crossed the room until he stood beside the bed. He didn’t look happy. “I’m no’ going to bed ye, Eryn. No’ tonight.”
She tugged the edge of her gown back up over her shoulder and tried to sound disinterested. “Why not?”
He pulled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to wait until after ye have your next course.”
This was not a good twist. “For what reason?” she demanded.
“I do no’—did no’—trust McDougal.” He met her gaze then. “If there is to be a child, I want to ken well that it’s mine.”
Her pulse surged with vibrant indignity. “You think I laid with Geoffrey?”
Drew moved his hands awkwardly in front of his chest. “I’m no’ saying that ye did so willingly, mind.”
“You believed he raped me?” she squeaked. This twist was even worse.
“He came to ye, drunken and stronger than ye. The man was angry. He wanted to harm ye.” Drew shifted his feet and looked very uncomfortable. “I’m only saying that ye might have run because he took advantage of ye and ye do no’ wish to tell me.”
“That’s not so!” Eryn climbed out from the blankets and stood on her knees on the mattress. “He never touched me! I swear it!”
Drew reached out a hand and laid it against her cheek. His palm was rough and warm. She leaned into it.
“It’s not so long to wait. Just a couple weeks, aye? We’ll be traveling most of that time. Staying in little inns. Not much privacy.” His hand fell away. “By the time we regain Castleton all should be well.”
No! Now what? “Please trust me, Drew,” she pleaded. “Nothing of that sort happened!”
His eyes bore into hers. “Do ye trust me, Eryn?”
Her gaze fell away for a moment before she could will it to be steady.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she mumbled. “It’s not as if you ever betrayed my trust.”
Drew shook his head and turned away from her. “If ye had been honest with me to begin with—”
“I’d be dangling at the end of a Scottish rope!” Eryn interrupted. She glared at Drew’s broad back. “So should I ask who you will be sleeping with this night?”
He reached the door before he answered over his shoulder. “A very large wineskin full of ice.”
He pulled the door closed before the boot she threw at him landed.
Drew wasn’t joking about the wineskin of ice. His blood was hot and it throbbed through his veins, pushed by his furiously pounding heart.
Furious aptly described the condition of his mood. Every singular time he asked Eryn a direct question to which the natural answer would be to tell him about the child, she deferred or deflected or turned the question back on him. His only consolation was the look of panic on her face when he declined to bed her.
Because other than that, she looked stunningly beautiful.
From the moment she appeared in the chapel wearing the green dress, with her hair spread over her shoulders like a flaxen cape and a smile that sizzled in his belly, he couldn’t stop staring at her. This amazing woman was now his wife. His partner for the rest of his life, God willing. How did he stumble into such good fortune? He certainly wasn’t looking to marry when he rode into her life on that miserable afternoon three months ago.
When he opened the door to her room tonight and she sat up in the bed to greet him, he very nearly tossed his plan into the hearth and succumbed to the fire in his groin. Eryn’s golden hair tumbled around her, her lips parted, her eyes were wide and dark with desire. She looked so soft. So warm. So inviting. So eager.
God in Heaven he ached to swive her.
What was he doing? How important was it, truly, which one of them spoke of the child first? He had his own bit to confess. Knowledge of the untied sheath rested on him. Not that there was anything to be done at that point. He shoved away rumors of women flushing themselves with vile concoctions intended to prevent the man’s seed from planting. He didn’t know what they used; and Eryn obviously had no knowledge of the practice. So there it was.
Even as he argued with himself, he knew the winning side. And his manhood was fairly angry about it. He latched the door to his own room and lifted the hem of his tunic. His hand was cold against the heat of his arousal. After his tension released, spitting and hissing into the fire, Drew reluctantly resolved to stay on this lonely path.
“Trust me, Eryn,” he whispered to the flames. Please, my love, just trust me.
His bed was cold. He didn’t sleep for hours.
February 28, 1355
Nottingham, England
Weather the last two days had been cold but clear. As they rode into Nottingham, however, heavy clouds were gathering; big wooly blankets tucking the sun into bed. That did not bode well for the morrow’s journey.
Drew led Eryn to the nicest looking inn and once again he guessed correctly. He and Kennan agreed on which towns the newly married couple would bide in each night, setting a fairly easy pace over the two-hundred-and-fifty miles from Elstow Abbey to the Bell estate. Kennan’s task was to reserve the best rooms, order food, and pay half of the bill to secure the inn keepers’ agreement. The plan seemed to be working: the inns were ready for their arrival, and he was able to travel privately with his wife.
That was a mixed blessing considering his re
solution.
And her ungodly stubbornness.
Last night, as he had every night since the vows were spoken, Drew reevaluated his stance. And last night, as every night afore, he remained firm. In more ways than one, he mused.
Awakening to a downpour of icy rain, Drew informed Eryn that she could sleep as late as she wished. They would not be traveling today. She nodded and pulled the blankets over her head. He went down to the common room to sit by the fire, drink ale, and ponder his plans for the coming year.
Eryn appeared in time for the midday meal. Drew had to admit she looked better than she had since he rescued her from the Tower. The bruise on her jaw was gone, her cheeks were pink with health, and there was no darkening under her eyes. Her hair was plaited and hung down her back in the thick rope that he longed to wrap around his hand. Use it to pull her close. To plunder her mouth.
Stop it.
“Ye look well and rested,” he complimented.
“I feel well and rested,” she said, sitting across the plank table from him. “It seems I’m always tired since I was ill. This storm is a blessing.”
“I forget ye do no’ spend your life in a saddle,” he chuckled.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.” She brushed crumbs from the tabletop and bench, then stood to carry an empty goblet and platter from another table to the inn’s kitchen.
“Eryn?”
“Yes?” she responded as she sat facing him again.
“This is no’ your place. Ye needn’t clean here. Nor any of the other places we’ll be resting at, ye ken?” he chided.
Her cheeks pinkened. “I know. It’s just that being tidy is important.”
“To whom?” he asked.
“To everyone!” she exclaimed. “Having a well-ordered home shows that one is competent.”
“Is that why ye clean so furiously?” Drew pressed. “To show the world that ye are competent?”
Eryn’s eyes pinned his. “I have always striven to put my best foot forward. To give my very best to every task. That is what God expects of me and I will not do less.”
“I expect the nuns taught ye that?” Drew guessed.
She bristled visibly, like an irritated barn cat. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You had advantages of birth—even though you tossed them aside. I have always had to prove myself.”
Her blunt words were like a flower opening in front of him. The realization that his beautiful and capable wife never felt able to rest in her myriad accomplishments was a challenge as certain as a gauntlet tossed at his feet.
Once they were in Castleton, he would apply himself to making certain she never felt she had to reestablish herself again.
“Ye needn’t prove a thing to me, Eryn,” he assured. “I saw your worth when I first saw ye.”
Now her entire face flushed. She leaned back a little. “I, uh—thank you, Drew.”
Trenchers of bread and venison stew were placed in front of them. Drew asked for ale for them both. Neither of them spoke until the brimming steins were delivered to the table.
“What were you doing when I came down?” Eryn asked before scooping a bite of stew.
“Thinking. About the year,” he answered. “I still have responsibilities to the king, ye ken.”
She froze. “Will you be traveling again?”
“No’ if I can find another way.”
Alarm heightened the color in her cheeks. “I expected you to stay with me—at the estate.”
“At Liam’s estate?” he prodded.
“Well, yes… In another dozen years when he is of legal age and inherits,” she qualified. She took another bite of stew. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. “Where did you go?”
He shrugged. “When?”
“When I told you to leave me—and you so quickly did so.” One eyebrow lifted briefly, but it was enough to communicate her irritation. “Where did you go?”
Drew paused. “I went home.”
“Home?” She looked confused. Then surprise smoothed her features. “The home you left when you were fourteen?”
“Aye.”
“Oh…”
Drew saw all manner of questions flickering over her expression. He waited for one to push its way to the front of her mind.
“Where is it?” was the first to emerge.
“South of Falkirk. About eighty miles north of Castleton. And a little east.” He lifted his ale and held the goblet in front of his mouth. This was not going to be an easy conversation.
Her voice was soft, but the words disturbed him even so. “You never told me what happened. Why you left… back then.”
That was true. Even the squires and knights at Stirling never knew. But if he wanted truth, he better be willing to give it.
“My father—in a fit of anger—accidently killed my older brother.” At the least he was kind enough to add ‘accidentally’ to the telling.
Eryn gasped. Her eyes rounded. “Oh, Drew…”
For some reason, her empathy moved him more deeply than the memory could anymore. He felt his throat tighten. He swallowed a gulp of ale to loosen it.
“How?” she asked.
He sighed. “My father had in his mind how things should be. Danny had other ideas. If my father said the sky was blue, Danny would wait for the sunset to point out that the sky was in fact orange, no’ blue.”
Eryn nodded soberly.
“As I grew bigger and stronger than him, Danny tried to put me in my father’s mind. He hadn’t the stomach for fighting, ye ken? And I was good at it.”
Eryn nodded again. Her lips were pressed together and her eyes filled with tears.
“One day they went to battle. When they returned, Danny said something disrespectful to my father. He swung his arm”—Drew imitated the motion—“and he knocked Danny’s head wrong. My father still wore his armor, ye see.”
Eryn’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no…” she breathed.
Drew’s brow wrinkled. “Danny was dead afore he hit the ground.”
Eryn reached across the table and took his free hand in hers. Her skin was soft and warm. Comforting. “Is he still there, your father?”
He shook his head. “Plague.”
She nodded, and seemed to sense his relief. “And your mother?” she asked.
His throat tightened again. This time two gulps were required before he could speak. “She is no’ right in her mind.”
“I can’t imagine how she could be. Her husband killed her son? And another son abandoned the family!” she declaimed.
How was it that women understood immediately what never occurred to him? “My sister said—”
“You have a sister?” Eryn yelped.
“Aye. She said—”
“Have you other siblings?” she interrupted.
“No, there were only the three of us. And she said—”
Eryn cut him off again. “How old is she? Is she married? Does she have children?”
Drew stared at her. Her pale eyes glowed bright green and crinkled at the corners. Her mouth curved up at the corners. He had not seen her so animated before. And then it hit him like an iron-shod kick to the chest.
She never had anyone.
No mother, no father. No sisters or brothers.
A smile spread over his face and lifted his cheeks. “Aye. She married at sixteen, and has four children thus far. Twin boys, another boy, and a girl.”
Eryn took the information and seemed to hold it in her mind to look at. “How old is she?”
“She’ll be twenty-eight later this year.”
“That’s my age! We’re the same!” she squealed.
“That—that’s true.” Why did Eryn seem so much older?
Her expression changed suddenly; as if a revelation had dawned. “And she has four children…”
“Soon to be five. Or six. She thinks it’s twins again,” he explained.
“Twins?” Eryn looked horrified. “Do twins r
un in your family?”
“No’ that I know of.” He leaned toward her and pinned his gaze to hers. “Why do ye ask?”
She retreated and flipped a hand at him. “Someday we will have children. I simply wondered, is all.”
“Someday?” he prodded. “Soon?”
“Well not if you don’t bed me!” she cried. The five other patrons in the common room turned to gawk. She blushed violently.
Drew fought the laughter that threatened to spill. His wife was as transparent as glass. He should be angry with her for—once again—deflecting his question. But he wasn’t.
He simply found it funny. More than funny.
It was hilarious.
Drew threw his head back and let loose. Loud guffaws bounced from his chest. His eyes watered. He pounded the table, making the ale goblets rattle. His belly ached. He thought he might piss himself.
“It wasn’t that funny,” Eryn snickered.
“Aye it was!” Drew shouted.
“No… it… wasn’t!” she giggled. Then she began to laugh as well.
Soon she was wiping tears. “Stop!” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I can’t breathe!”
That only made him laugh harder.
When their mirth was finally spent, and they were able to look at each other without succumbing to additional spasms of merriment, Eryn pointed at finger at him.
“I need to meet your sister,” she said, still smiling.
“Perhaps later in the year,” he suggested. “After her bairns have come?”
Eryn shook her head and her smile hardened. “No. Before that.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
March 5, 1355
Carlisle, England
Twenty-four miles to go.
Drew and Eryn climbed the steps of the last inn they would need to bide in on their journey. The weather had eased a little. It didn’t always freeze at night, and one sunny afternoon was warm enough to forgo a cloak. As always, Drew let Eryn choose the room she would prefer to stay in. Today she chose the one at the back of the inn. He claimed the one toward the front.
