Page 16 of A Husband for Esyllt
By the time she joined him and Matthew in the great hall, she was confident neither of the men would see anything amiss.
“Good morning, Lady Sheridan,” her brother-in-law greeted, standing up. “I trust you slept well.”
She was certain Connor had asked him to be cordial, because he never spoke to her if he could help it, much less show her signs of deference. She decided to behave as if he were genuinely interested in her well-being. No point in antagonizing him further.
“I did, thank you. I hope you did too.”
Pleasantries out of the way, they all sat to a lavish meal of bread, cheese, meat pies and gruel. While she ate, Esyllt looked at the two men sitting opposite each other.
One dark, one fair, one with piercing green irises, the other with velvety brown eyes, they could not have looked moredifferent if they’d tried. Perhaps they did try. Their choice of clothes, their attitudes, the way they talked, everything set them apart. The only thing they shared was a powerful physique, but even that produced a different effect. Connor appeared relaxed, whereas Matthew seemed full of pent-up energy. The stealthy wild cat and the prancing hound, both equally fearsome, both equally compelling. You just couldn’t avert your eyes from them, and she didn’t try.
What sort of a lover was Matthew, she wondered? Tender or passionate? Did he tease his conquests, make them think they were about to explode, and then leave them wanting, like Connor had done? Or did he kiss them until they passed out in ecstasy? Did he expect his lovers to lick him? Did he demand it?
Esyllt shook her head as the shocking thoughts crossed her mind. She should not be wondering how her brother-in-law behaved in bed. Connor already thought her a wanton, she could not start becoming one.
She blushed and turned her attention back to her gruel. Soon, however, she was ogling the men again. It was impossible not to. They were simply too compelling. Inevitably, Connor caught her staring. He smiled and winked, as if he’d guessed why she could not tear her eyes from them, and did not mind.
She went red to the roots of her hair. So that was his game, he was trying to embarrass her, instead of reprimanding her. She wasn’t sure which she preferred.
Matthew soon excused himself, explaining he’d already asked for his stallion to be saddled. Esyllt was not surprised to hear he wanted a ride. He’d never tried to hide his aversion for his new home. The more time he could spend outside of the castle walls, pretending to be in England, the better.
“I think your brother would prefer to go back to Sheridan Manor,” she observed once the door closed on him.
“He would. But he is not going to leave without me. As long as he thinks I’m in danger, he will remain by my side.” This was said with a side smile.
“You said he was your foster brother?” They had not discussed this any further since their wedding night and she was curious. Hadn’t she wanted to make the most of the opportunity of a meal shared together to get to know him better?
Connor dipped his hands into the bowl of scented water next to him before leaning back into his chair. “He’s my milk brother, really.”
“Oh. But then how come he ended up being fostered by your parents?” It was not uncommon for noble families to foster sons of other noble families for a few years. But Matthew’s mother could not have been well-born if she had fed the future Lord Sheridan.
“His mother, Rose, was a maid at Sheridan Manor but we are not sure who his father was. Unfortunately, we think it might well have been one of my parents’ guests, a nobleman thinking he could use the servants for his pleasure while he visited them.”
A dark shadow passed over Connor’s face at the thought. Esyllt shivered, sharing his disapproval.
“That is awful.” But all too common, unfortunately.
Connor nodded. “She fed me as a babe and Matthew and I grew up together, getting into all sorts of trouble, as real brothers do. When the poor woman died of a fever, we were both six. He had no family. I made my parents take him in and raise him as their own.”
Esyllt stared. A child of six imposing his will on his parents... Such determination did not bode well for her wish for independence. Would she ever manage to stand up to such a man?
“Matthew was born the day before me, which was why his mother was chosen to nurse me,” Connor added with a laugh. “He has never let me forget it and always acts the big brother.”
This she did not doubt. The way he’d decided to play the role of her husband-to-be was proof of his protective nature.
“And you let him?” She wouldn’t have thought her husband was one to be ordered around.
His green eyes gleamed. “I do, because it’s easier that way. But only when it suits me.”
And there she had it. Her husband could be docility itself, but only if and when it suited him. Otherwise, he would impose his will with implacable firmness. She shivered again, remembering how he had coaxed her into opening her legs for him the night before their wedding, all this without resorting to violence or threats.
“By the way,” Connor said, helping himself to another slice of dried apple, “I never asked you, what does ‘Esgyrn’ mean?”
The change of topic was welcome. She’d heard enough about her husband’s iron will for now.
“Castell Esgyrn means ‘Bones Castle.’” At his raised eyebrow, she carried on explaining. “Legend has it that when they dug around for the foundations of the castle a century ago, they found the remains of two people in the ditch yonder. No one knows who they were or how they died.”
“Mm. And what do you think? You must have a theory?”
