Page 6 of Suddenly a Bride
He dropped his hand from her face.
God above, he would not do this again, he thought. It was a good thing that he would forgo this wedding night. He had allowed his lust for Elizabeth to overcome his good sense—with disastrous results. She’d proven that a woman was not the sum of her appearance.
Though Gwyneth’s eyes might be windows deeper into herself, he would not trust what he might see there. She was a pawn in Langston’s game, and it was up to him to find out how deeply she was under the earl’s control.
Edmund scrutinized her until he saw apprehension awaken in her eyes. “Aye, girl, my decision is made. Mr. Collins?” He turned to the clergyman, who stiffened abruptly at the summons. “Bring your prayer book. We will wed.”
~oOo~
The marriage ceremony there on the church steps bound Gwyneth’s life to that of a stranger. Sir Edmund watched the vicar as if it was nothing to him to marry someone he’d never met, while she stared at her groom’s profile, with its strong nose and square jaw. At the right time, he put a gold ring on her finger, and the ring felt heavy with new obligations. At the end, she raised her face for his kiss, but his lips only touched her cheek. Her unease sounded the first of many warnings.
Geoffrey broke bride cakes and handed them about to the wedded couple, the soldiers, the vicar, and Lucy. Gwyneth drank from the same cup of wine as her new husband, celebrating that the marriage was properly done.
And then it was all over, and she was bound forever in wedlock to Sir Edmund Blackwell. She was a man’s wife, and it still felt so very strange.
Watching her new husband walk down the stairs, she realized what he had concealed by remaining at the church door: he was lame. One knee did not bend like the other, and he had to take each of the stairs one at a time. Once on flat ground, he walked with an awkward gait, bringing his permanently straight right leg forward.
Suddenly Sir Edmund turned and caught her staring at him. He arched his brow, but she only smiled, for such a deformity mattered not a whit to her. When he turned abruptly away, her smile died.
“Geoff,” he called, “saddle the horses. I cannot be gone long from the castle.”
“But Edmund,” Geoffrey said, glancing almost guiltily at Gwyneth, who still remained on the church stairs, “I have already sent one of the men to procure a meal at a nearby inn.”
Geoffrey lowered his voice, but she still heard him.
“Itisher wedding day, Edmund.”
She slowly walked down the stairs and was surprised when Lucy clutched her hand, staring at Gwyneth’s new husband in fear.
Sir Edmund looked up at the sun and then sighed. “We will spare the time, then. My lady?”
He turned back to Gwyneth, who released Lucy and hurried to his side, then hesitated when she caught sight of his warhorse.
“Aye, my lord?”
“There is no need to take the coach through these narrow streets. You shall ride with me.”
Before she understood what he was about, he caught her hand and pulled her closer, then swung her up into his massive arms as if she were a puff of wool. With eyes that felt wide and too dry, she stared at his horse.
“My lord, please stop!” she cried, stiffening and trying not to struggle.
His face went dark, and in a low voice he said, “If you do not wish me to touch you, at least have the decency not to show my men.”
Gwyneth had no idea what he meant, but she shook her head anyway. “ ’Tis not that, but your horse. I—I—” She felt like such a fool, and her voice dropped to a pained whisper. “I am afraid of horses, my lord.” She prided herself on her strong mind and calm will, and it brought her near tears to have to confess such a foolish weakness to her new husband.
She lay curled in his strong embrace and pleaded with her eyes, wrapping her arms about his neck. He stared at her for a long time, and then she felt his palm slide down her thigh. She gasped at such a familiarity, even as she tried to remember that he was her husband now.
“You feel strong enough to walk,” Sir Edmund said.
She heard the soldiers laughing at his words, and felt his tension ease. Somehow, she had embarrassed him, and her foolish confession had made it go away. She was grateful at least for that. He set her down, then turned for the reins of his horse and limped at her side.
Geoffrey led the party down a few streets, past the market cross in the center of Richmond, and to a prosperous three-story inn. Every building here seemed to be made of the same gray stone and roof slates, but what made it pretty were the flowers planted along the roads that wound up the hillside. Gwyneth found herself wishing that they could live in a town like this.
As she followed her husband into the cool interior of the inn, she tried to remember the few things she knew of him. Geoffrey was loyal to Sir Edmund and had said little of him. All Gwyneth knew was that he’d been knighted on the field of battle.
He was supposed to be a common man, little schooled in the way of the nobility. For this she was grateful. Although noble blood ran in her veins, she had not been raised at court and was glad her husband would not think less of her for that. Her mother had taught her a smattering of French and Greek, her numbers, and something of the countries of the world. Like any lady, she’d learned to sing and embroider, but it was truly in a kitchen that she excelled—not a ladylike accomplishment, but one she was proud of.
They entered the warm, gloomy public room of the inn, and she watched as people at the benches and tables went silent as the armed party passed. She saw looks of fear that she well understood. Geoffrey led them into a private dining chamber with its own lead-paned windows to let in the sunlight, then bade her sit at her husband’s side. The soldiers seemed at ease with their lord and sprawled wherever they wanted. Geoffrey sat down in their midst and soon had all the men laughing. Lucy struck up a tentative conversation with the vicar, which left Gwyneth with no one to talk to—but her husband.
