Page 36 of Suddenly a Bride
“Swintongate is just around the hillside,” he said. “Unless you have a meal in that basket, we shall eat at the tavern.”
She should have thought of that, Gwyneth berated herself. She could have spent precious time alone with her husband. At least there was one good point to his notoriety—not many people would be bothering them at the tavern.
To see the village, she turned in the saddle to face forward. Tentatively she leaned back against her husband an inch at a time. When he didn’t object, she let herself relax fully against him, enjoying the feel of his hard warmth behind her. With her arms still wide about the basket, they rested along his as he held the reins.
It was a pleasant if wishful fantasy to imagine being in his embrace for reasons other than supporting her on the horse. He felt so warm, so safe. He seemed to be an honorable man, a quality she held very dear, and dealt well with his people, even though they were afraid of him. She let her mind drift as she wondered how different things would be if he smiled.
Edmund suddenly put a hand on her shoulder and shook her a little. Surprised, she tipped her head up, to find him looking down. Their lips were inches apart, and she felt the warmth and pleasant sensation of his breath across her mouth. Her own breath caught on a gasp at the strange shock moving through her. Couldn’t he feel this new awareness between them?
He cleared his throat. “I thought you were falling asleep and didn’t want you to slide off.”
“Thank you for your concern. I guess my mind was wandering.” She smiled at him, at her own silliness. What did she think he would do—kiss her passionately out in the open dale when he wouldn’t kiss her in a bedchamber?
As he lifted his gaze back to the road, she looked forward and saw Swintongate. The village was a collection of gray stone houses built into the hillside near the Swale. An ancient bridge with three arches spanned the river, which sparkled in the sun.
“How lovely!” she exclaimed, leaning forward with excitement. “This village trulybelongsto you?”
“The land does,” he said, but she thought she heard a note of pride in his voice. “The villagers rent from me.”
Behind each house she could see spacious garden plots that gave way to pastures and fields.
“Are all the people farmers?”
“Some. Others are in trade. There’s a tavern, as I mentioned, with a few rooms to rent above it. The smith who works for Wintering has his business here.”
The lane ran between two houses and opened up on a small village green with a well at the center. The tavern was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the houses, except for the small, crude sign showing a drawing of a full tankard next to a meat pie.
On the green, Edmund dismounted first with the basket, leaving Gwyneth to clutch the saddle tightly. Would The General bolt with only her on his back? But Edmund reached up and caught her about the waist. She practically jumped toward him and ended up falling against his chest.
She grinned as she found her footing. “Forgive me. That beast frightens me.”
He seemed to search her eyes, even as he allowed her to remain leaning against him. “I didn’t think anything truly frightened you.”
Deciding to press him a bit, she placed her hands flat against his chest. “Certainly you do not frighten me, Edmund, though you might make everyone else cower with that voice of yours.” She felt the strong beat of his heart under her palm.
His eyebrows lowered as his gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth. “You think it is only my voice that affects people?”
She shrugged and patted his chest. “I have seen no other reason.”
His frown intensified, and his voice became a low growl. “You are very naïve, Gwyneth.”
He stepped away from her and went to the well, and she felt chilled without his warmth. After dropping the bucket in and listening to the splash, he pulled it up again by the rope. Spilling the water into a trough, he led The General over to it, and as the horse drank, he loosened the girth, then tied the reins loosely through a ring nearby.
“You’re not afraid someone will take him?” she asked in surprise.
He gave her an ironic look. “This isn’t London. Everyone knows who owns him.”
“He certainly is distinctive,” she said with a laugh.
She caught up with him as he limped toward the tavern. Suddenly a group of children came running between two houses onto the green. Laughing, they tossed a ball among themselves, until they caught sight of her and Edmund. She smiled and waved, but one by one they stopped short, and their little faces reflected horror. Without even touching her husband, she knew he stiffened, and she gripped his hand firmly in her own.
As if suddenly unfrozen, the children turned and ran back the way they’d come, casting anxious glances over their shoulders. One little girl even had tears streaming from her eyes, and Gwyneth prayed that Edmund hadn’t seen.
But one look into his expressionless face let her know he had. She wanted to bring his cold hand up and press kisses to it, warming it with her mouth.
“Edmund,” she whispered, “they know no better.”
He looked down at their joined hands, then back into her eyes. “Perhaps they know better than you.”
