Page 60 of Suddenly a Bride
She blushed and smiled up at him. “Shall we find an inn before we shop?”
“Shop?” he echoed with distaste.
~oOo~
Edmund could have kicked down the door to the bedchamber Gwyneth had at a small inn below Richmond Castle. He’d allowed her to make the room arrangements, while he stabled the horses. Naturally she’d taken only one chamber instead of two, and he knew he’d humiliate her if he went back down and insisted on separate rooms.
So now he had to spend an entire night in the seductive company of Gwyneth, a woman using all of her ample capabilities to make this marriage real in every way. He’d encouraged her purchase of ribbons, fabric, and even a few spices for the kitchen, hoping she’d be distracted. But nothing had distracted him from the memory of her wet and naked in the tub.
After she followed him into the bedchamber, she set the packages on the table. “Is this not lovely?” she cried, looking about.
Edmund knew there was other furniture in the room, but all he saw was the massive bed with curtains hanging from the canopy for privacy. He began to perspire. “We should go down and have supper.”
“I’ve already asked the innkeeper to send some up,” she replied.
She wore a sweet smile that he knew must mask her triumph.
“Why don’t you remove that travel-stained doublet?” she said, already reaching for the buttons on his chest. “I can brush the dirt out for you.”
He backed away, and when he hit a chair, he sat down heavily. “I can manage to remove my own garments, Gwyneth.”
Would you?her sparkling eyes seemed to say.
He tried to remember that he intended to find a new wife, but his current one was unlacing the small lace ruff about her throat. When she removed it and rolled her head with a sigh, he couldn’t stop staring at how the delicate muscles of her throat met in the hollow between her collarbones. He wanted to press his mouth there and suck the sweetness of her, feel her pulse quicken to match his own. His heart seemed to roar within his chest and already his loins felt afire after he’d been alone with her for only minutes. He would be dead by morning.
Someone knocked on the door, and when Gwyneth went to open it, Edmund slumped back in his chair with relief. A cheerful maidservant bustled in, setting a heavy tray on the table beside him. The aroma of good food spread through the room, and he tried to resurrect his appetite for something besides Gwyneth.
While they ate, she kept up a steady patter of conversation that he only occasionally had to answer. He glanced at the bed, hoping the floor was comfortable.
Gwyneth berated herself for talking so much, but didn’t seem to be able to stop. Edmund was barely a part of the conversation, and she felt that she had to do something to fill up the awkward silences. He hadn’t been so uneasy with her in days—but she could guess why.
They were spending their first night alone together, and there was only one bed. She was alternately exhilarated and frightened. She didn’t have the first idea how to persuade him to consummate their marriage. If she came right out and asked him and he refused, it would be even worse than not knowing. So she decided to just carry on with her usual nighttime routine and see what developed.
When they were finished eating, she set the tray in the corridor beside their door and slowly straightened, rubbing an ache low in her back. Her legs were mildly sore, and she hoped the morning would not find her worse. When she turned around, Edmund had removed his black doublet and tossed it on the end of the bed. He knelt on one knee at the hearth to start a fire. Picking up his doublet and draping it across the back of a chair, she used her hands to brush out as much of the dirt as possible.
Then she stood in the center of the room, awkward and shy again, knowing all that was left to do was remove her clothing and climb into bed.
Chapter 14
For a wild moment, Gwyneth wondered what Edmund would do if she removed everything, then decided she couldn’t bear the rejection. She would just have to wear her smock as a night rail and hope that he wished to remove it for her.
She wore a feminine version of a doublet, snug to her waist and ending in a point at her stomach. Though the sleeves were tied on at the armholes, she merely unbuttoned the front to remove it. Just as she was shrugging it off her shoulders to reveal her smock, he stood up before the fire and turned around. They both froze, staring at each other, and it took her a moment to remember what she’d been doing.
He didn’t look away.
Lifting her chin, she unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop before picking it up and draping it over the same chair. She removed the padded roll about her waist and followed it with two petticoats. She was wearing only the long-sleeved smock, which fell to her ankles. Edmund stared at her, making her unsteady from the warm languor stealing over her.
Not breaking his gaze, she sat down on one chair and propped her foot against the other. She pulled her smock back until her leg was exposed from the knee down. After untying her stocking from her garter, she slid it the length of her calf and off the end of her foot. When she turned to her other leg, this time she daringly let the folds of her smock slide toward her hips.
When she dropped the second stocking, she glanced up to find her husband staring at the floor, his hands fisted on his hips. Slowly she rose and started walking toward him. Would he allow her to touch him?
“I’ll let you finish preparing for bed,” he said in a hoarse voice, as he limped around her and out the door. “There is no need to wait for me.”
As the door closed, Gwyneth felt a painful ache of defeat build in her chest before she overcame it with a renewed sense of determination. She crawled into the cold bed and pulled the blankets up, wiping away a single angry tear. She affected him, but that was only slight consolation. Somehow she had to make him forget Elizabeth—and the Langstons—and learn to trust her.
~oOo~
When it was past midnight, Edmund softly opened the door to their chamber. He had been careful not to drink too much, so the room only wavered instead of spun in the dying light of the fire.
