Page 29 of Suddenly a Bride
As the sun set, Gwyneth was watching from her tower window when her husband rode into the courtyard. She watched his easy mastery of his large horse and felt again the strange sensations he made her feel as she imagined those same hands touching her. She wanted him to come looking for her, to tell her of his day, to treat her like a wife, but she knew he wouldn’t. And she couldn’t go looking for him, not after he had caught her in his bedchamber twice.
But when enough time had passed, she still went down into the castle, making sure all the candles were out and the fires safely banked, as her mother had always stressed. In the kitchen, she ate the last slice of her ginger cake, then sat staring into the fire until she was almost dozing. She shook herself awake, then went back along the corridor, intending to fall asleep planning her next strategy for dealing with her reluctant husband.
Just before she reached the great hall, she heard an unusual sound coming from it. It was the slide of steel on steel, a sound she’d learned to avoid on the London streets, where she knew it meant a foolish fight. But here in the castle, they were supposed to be alone but for Geoffrey and Lucy.
Taking a deep breath, she walked the last few steps to the great hall, then stood in the shadows and gaped. Edmund had built a large fire in the hearth at this end of the hall. He stood in its harsh glare, naked from the waist up, his massive chest crossed with scars. In his right hand he held a wickedly pointed rapier, and in the other was a dagger, just as lethal. Before she could even understand the heat that burst inside her at just the sight of him, he began to move.
Gwyneth’s mouth went dry as she watched the play of his muscles. He thrust forward with his rapier, then parried an imaginary opponent’s sword with his dagger. Even with the limp, he moved with the grace of a court dancer, and the intensity on his face made her wish he’d look at her like that, as though she meant something to him.
Weak and suddenly breathless, she put a hand against the wall to steady herself. But the movement must have betrayed her, because he suddenly stiffened and looked about.
Chapter 8
Although Gwyneth thought she’d been seen, she heard a voice at the far side of the great hall, and her husband turned toward it.
“Why, Edmund Blackwell,” Geoffrey said, coming out of the darkness of a corridor, one hand behind his back, “what have you been keeping from me?”
Her husband relaxed and lowered his weapons. “You need not know every detail of my life,” he said with amusement in his voice.
Geoffrey was dressed more casually than Gwyneth had ever seen him, in a loose shirt and breeches. The hand he’d kept hidden slid forward at his side, and a sword reflected the firelight.
Edmund nodded with interest.
Geoffrey grinned. “You don’t need to tell me every detail of your life—I already know most of them.”
“You flatter yourself. But I see that you came prepared.”
“Of course.”
Geoffrey reached the center of the hall, and suddenly the two men were circling each other, both wearing intent but amused expressions, as if they’d done this many times before.
“I didn’t think you were still training,” Geoffrey said. “I’m happy to see that I was wrong.”
“Then you must be happy much of the time,” Edmund said.
Suddenly his sword flashed out, and Gwyneth gasped when the two weapons connected between the men.
Geoffrey stepped back and shook his head. “Insults now, eh, Edmund?”
“Why should things be different?” Edmund tossed his dagger on the table so they were matched in swords alone.
“Indeed.”
This time Geoffrey attacked first, striking hard with his sword in an overhanded arc. Gwyneth bit back a scream even as Edmund parried, then staggered. She sagged against the wall and put a hand to her heart, as if she could keep it from pounding out of her chest. She didn’t know how much longer she could watch the two men play with each other like little boys.
“Are you all right?” Geoffrey asked in a more serious tone of voice.
Edmund put a hand on the table to steady himself. “Do not concern yourself with my injury. I could defeat you withtwolame legs.”
Gwyneth couldn’t help smiling.
“Then I guess ’tis pointless for me to fight,” said Geoffrey, as he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Instead, I’ll go search out the last of your wife’s ginger cake. I haven’t had any, and I hear it’s quite delicious.”
Edmund frowned, echoing Gwyneth’s own puzzlement.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, bringing up his sword again.
The two men came together again in a flurry of thrusts that had Gwyneth wincing and covering her face, only to peer between her fingers. Geoffrey staggered back with a laugh. As Edmund went to press his advantage, his leg twisted, and he fell heavily into the rushes.
