Page 62 of Suddenly a Bride
“I shall go have a hot bath sent up. It will make you feel better for the trip home.”
She couldn’t help wincing at the thought. He laughed, a deep, wonderful sound that made her realize shemustbe falling in love with him.
“Do not worry so. You can ride home with me.”
She gave him a trembling smile as he strode to the doorway. “Thank you, Edmund—for everything.”
After a last searching look into her eyes, he left the room.
~oOo~
While Edmund watched two servants haul up a wooden tub and fill it with hot water, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to his wife. Gwyneth had overwhelmed him with a passion he’d never imagined a woman could truly feel. He was incredibly thankful that she was saddle sore, because he’d almost made love to her and demolished every plan and suspicion he’d built for himself.
When the servants had gone, Gwyneth dropped the blanket she’d been holding about herself and struggled to her feet. She took a few painful-looking steps toward the tub, almost stumbling when she tried to pull her smock off. He crossed the room, quickly pulled the smock up and over her head, then swung her up into his arms. Before she could do more than gasp his name, he gently lowered her into the steaming tub. When the water didn’t quite cover her breasts, he knew he had to leave.
“I shall go order food,” he said. “Take your time.” He moved a chair next to the tub, then piled it with towels and a ball of soft soap.
He made the mistake of looking at her, seeing her soft, grateful smile and the beaded moisture that clung to the curves of her breasts. He left as quickly as he could, then stumbled to a halt in the corridor and leaned back against the wall.
His determination was crumbling in ruins about him, and he tottered on the edge of abandoning it all. He couldn’t imagine another wife in place of Gwyneth. Was this just what the earl wanted? Had the man known how irresistible Gwyneth would be to him?
And then he felt a cold sense of horror. Couldshebe in danger if he fell in love with her? The earl would easily go that far to make him suffer. He wished the man would just send an assassin, someone he could fight instead of having to play this shadow game that made him question everything.
When he returned an hour later, she was already dressed, though sitting in a chair, as if the process had taken a lot out of her. When she saw him, she smiled sweetly and blushed. Her long, golden hair hung free, the way he liked it, and he resisted the urge to touch it. Instead, he tortured himself by watching her eat.
“Did the bath help?” he finally asked.
She nodded. “I feel better, though I will admit that even the thought of riding Star makes me wince.”
He smiled. “I shall not force you.”
They left the inn and walked to the jail, holding their horses’ reins. Each step was painful for his wife, so Edmund kept his pace slow. He paid the fine, then left Gwyneth with the constable while he went in to talk to the prisoner.
He pointed out the futility of trying to escape and was reluctantly impressed by Langston’s anger that he should question his honor. Edmund refrained from asking if Langston had conveniently forgotten his honor the last time they’d tangled.
But that the man professed himself honor-bound to pay his debt did not make him a pleasant companion on the journey. Though he had already lost his horse in a wager, he grumbled about having to ride Gwyneth’s mare.
When he discovered the reason that she was riding in Edmund’s lap, he gave a superior sniff and said, “My sister, Elizabeth, was an excellent rider.”
Edmund felt Gwyneth stiffen in his arms, but she made no response, and he was determined to follow her example. Traveling with Langston made him miss the pleasant conversation he and Gwyneth had shared the day before. She was easy to be with. But in their silence, he was free to remember the touch and taste of her, to imagine himself fulfilled inside her. Even her hand on his arm was erotic, and her backside rubbed repeatedly across his groin. Surely he was losing his mind in lust.
When they arrived at Castle Wintering at mid-afternoon, Edmund was distracted from his feverish thoughts seeing Prudence Atwater entering the stables. It had only been days ago that the woman had told Gwyneth she’d tried to seduce him. It was brave—or foolish—of her to visit her son here rather than in the village.
But he forgot about Prudence in the process of helping Gwyneth inside and finding Langston a decent chamber to sleep in. By the time he remembered the widow, she’d already been seen leaving the castle. Mrs. Haskell had not spoken to her but assured Edmund that the widow had friends among the servants that she could have been visiting, besides her son.
“Sir Edmund,” Mrs. Haskell continued, as they stood alone in a corridor, “might I ask you another question?”
“Of course,” he said, though his mind was already dwelling on what work he’d assign Langston.
“Did Lady Blackwell talk to you about the missing linens?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve never been able to find them, which is a bit peculiar. And now I’ve discovered that some of the money I’d set aside for foodstuffs is gone.”
That earned his attention. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Are you saying that we have a thief?”
She held up a hand. “I cannot imagine such a thing being so, my lord. Perhaps it is my own memory at fault.”
