Page 8 of Suddenly a Bride
She nodded, motioned to the dark-haired girl, and they both left.
The mood in the chamber became considerably more boisterous, and he caught his men winking and elbowing one another, while raising their tankards to him. He knew what they were thinking: she was an agreeable wench to take to bed. He downed the rest of his ale and thought of the night ahead, when he would send Gwyneth away from him.
Geoff slid onto the bench at his side. “Before the wedding, you asked me to keep my eyes open for anything suspicious.”
“And?”
“People walking by the courtyard walls of the church often lingered to stare but never for long. Except for one man.”
Edmund stiffened. He was not about to explain his strange marriage to Geoff, but he had asked pointed questions about Gwyneth’s journey north, which had been enough to make his friend curious. “What did this man look like?”
“Not poor by any means. His garments were subdued, but expensive in cut and fabric. I did not recognize his face, but I couldn’t help noticing him because he wore a strange fur hat on a hot summer day.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing but watch the entire ceremony, which was peculiar in and of itself. After you’d said your final vows, I turned, and he was gone.”
Edmund urged Geoff to rejoin the merriment, then sat and wondered how closely Earl Langston was watching him.
~oOo~
When Gwyneth descended from the second floor of the inn, she steeled herself to return to the dining chamber and her husband’s silence. This time she would make merry conversation and have him laughing in a trice. She was usually good at talking with people.
But Sir Edmund and his soldiers had already gathered in the taproom, obviously impatient to be on their way home.
Home.She so wanted that word to mean something to her marriage. Right now, all it made her think about was the small cottage in London that had been the center of her world. She started to imagine what her parents and sisters were doing at this moment, but she had to force the thought aside as it made tears well up in her eyes. She would not cry on her wedding day and make her husband think she was not grateful to him.
Outside, village boys were holding the reins of the horses. Sir Edmund and Geoffrey tossed coins to them, and the boys merrily ran away. Gwyneth remained staring up at her husband’s horse, so much larger and wilder than the rest. It seemed to watch her as it pawed the ground, ready to kick.
The men were paying little attention to them, and all mounted their horses as the two women waited. Gwyneth was impressed by how easily Sir Edmund swung his lame leg over the horse’s back. Once he was mounted, the injury didn’t seem to bother him, though the leg was held stiff and straight. The horse seemed totally under his command, like one of Lucifer’s minions.
“Milady,” Lucy said into her ear, “Methinks they forgot us already.”
Gwyneth frowned and waited, but the men were talking and gesturing like the rough soldiers they were, and Geoffrey and Sir Edmund were conversing, their view blocked by the soldiers. She was not about to walk into the midst of those horses to get their attention. Her husband would remember her soon enough.
But the horses began to move off. The women exchanged glances, linked arms, and started to walk behind them, carefully stepping over the horses’ leavings.
Suddenly Sir Edmund’s horse separated itself from the others, and he wheeled the animal about and came toward them. Gwyneth froze, barely stopping herself from shrinking back. He guided the animal sideways as he looked down upon her.
“Lady Blackwell, were you going to walk all the way to Wintering?”
For one moment, she thought her husband’s straight lips might have twitched with amusement at his own folly. Or was she just longing for the gentle humor she so enjoyed with her family?
And then she realized he’d called her by her new name, and she felt like a different person, a stranger.
“Sir Edmund, I assumed you would eventually remember me. But just in case, we had planned to return to the coach.”
He frowned and leaned forward on the pommel, staring down at her. “The coach will have a difficult time these last few miles up the dale. It is very rocky and uneven. ’Twould be best if you rode with me.”
“No, my lord. I have traveled in that coach for more than a week now, and I assure you that my…posterior is quite accustomed to bouncing.”
Sir Edmund’s eyes widened, and now she was certain she saw laughter there.
“Have I said something humorous, my lord?”
Lucy gripped her elbow harder and hissed in her ear, “Gwyn, I think yer words could be taken for…bed talk.”
“Bed talk?” she repeated a little too loudly.
