Page 44 of Suddenly a Bride
Mr. Yates’s eyes brightened. “Aye, milord, I’d be happy to take it over.”
“ ’Tis a distance to walk,” Edmund cautioned, “and it’ll be hard to work alone. I can wait for the payment until after harvest.”
As Yates pumped his hand in agreement, Edmund wished that Gwyneth hadn’t been there. That soft look was back in her eyes, the one he’d seen only an hour ago, when he’d broken away from her compelling kiss.
What had he been thinking? he wondered, as they said their good-byes to the Yateses and went outside to The General. He was supposed to rid himself of this new wife, and instead he was kissing her like a besotted groom.
And she’d tasted incredible. He could have drowned in the sweetness of her, in the passion and heat of her response. He’d barely been able to keep his hands off her body and had only come to his senses when he’d realized he could have easily taken her there on the wet rocks. Then there would be no annulment, no breaking of this link between him and the Langstons.
Yet he was confused. The earl had sworn him to secrecy about Elizabeth’s death and certainly wouldn’t have told Gwyneth for fear the story would spread to become the scandal the Langston family dreaded. Yet Gwyneth knew all about it. She wanted his trust, but for what purpose?
He would have to play her game, pretend he was beginning to trust her, and see if she would betray him. He realized that he was hoping she wouldn’t prove false, though where that would leave him he preferred not to speculate. As she continued to ride in his lap, it was all he could do not to kiss her again.
~oOo~
When they arrived at the castle, Gwyneth was prepared for Edmund’s coldness. She knew he felt he had violated some kind of oath to himself by kissing her. But he seemed almost mellow as he let her off the horse in the center of the courtyard, handed down the basket, and then rode to the stables. She stared after him until he disappeared inside, remembering how gentle he’d been to the poor Yates family, feeling a quiet pride that such a good man was her husband.
He didn’t come in for supper. Geoffrey and Lucy were interested in her journey, and she enjoyed telling them about the people she’d met.
That night, when Gwyneth was alone in her bedchamber, she told herself that she’d won a victory of sorts. But it didn’t help with the loneliness, and she tried not to think of her family, so many boisterous, happy voices in one small house. She’d already sent them several letters, but she knew it would be weeks, if not months, before she heard back.
She knew better than to expect Edmund to come to her bed. She wanted more kisses. She wanted his hands on her, touching her in other places—and she wanted them both to be naked while he did it. She imagined him in the great bed at her side, whispering words of love, looking at her as if she was the most important thing in his life. She sighed at her foolish dreams.
She’d made inroads today, winning a skirmish, not the battle. It was time to begin seducing her husband in earnest, and if she had to learn as she went along, so be it.
Chapter 11
At midmorning the next day, Edmund was working with the masons he’d brought from Richmond. He’d had to hire extra workers to repair a wall in an empty wing of the castle. It was heavy, physical work dealing with large slabs of stone, and in only a few hours, he and the men were sweaty and exhausted.
The sun was at its zenith and he was helping to build wooden braces to hold a freshly mortared section of the wall in place when a low buzz seemed to move through the workers. The man he was working beside straightened with a smile.
Puzzled, Edmund turned around to find the whole contingent of maidservants from the castle gathered around Gwyneth. When had his household staff grown so big? Each of the women held a bowl or pan, and beside them a trestle table was being set up. Gwyneth spread out a large tablecloth, then directed where she wanted the food to be placed. The women giggled and eyed the appreciative male audience, who’d already begun to set down their tools and move toward the feast.
Edmund watched dispassionately, knowing he’d forgotten to tell Gwyneth that the workers brought their own meals. As she stood among the men piling their plates with food, she smiled at each compliment, but her gaze sought and found his. She lifted her chin a bit, as if to say, “You won’t eat with me? Then I’ll bring the food to you.”
Wiping his hands on a rag, he limped toward her. That confident smile never left her face, and she boldly slid her arm around his waist before all the men.
“A good afternoon, husband,” she said demurely, but her eyes glinted at him.
He nodded. “Gwyneth.” He studied the food, trying to pretend that with a single touch of her body she was not undoing all his efforts to be objective about her. He had no choice but to let his arm drape itself across her back and his hand rest on her hip. Beside him, she seemed a shy, fragile wisp, not meant to bear well the regard of so many men—or the weight of his body. But she continued to surprise him.
She looked up at him innocently. “I hope you were ready to stop for a meal.”
“How could I refuse when you’ve offered the men such temptation?”
She blushed, which only brought out the sparkle in her brown eyes. “I hope you mean the food.”
A man nearby overheard her and laughed out loud, then ended on a cough when Edmund gave him a sharp glance.
“What else would I mean?” he asked, knowing he was challenging her.
She only shrugged and stepped away from him. “Come, my lord, rest yourself while I prepare you a plate.”
“I can serve myself,” he said.
“Then indulge me by allowing me to serve you.”
She pushed him toward an empty bench in the shade of a tree near the garden but still well in view of all the men. Most people were openly smiling at Gwyneth’s antics. He imagined not many men thought he’d let a woman be playful with him.
