Medieval Brides. Anne Herries
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petals at this time of year? And when had they had time to strew the bedcover with them?
‘Get off, Gudrun, for pity’s sake,’ Cecily got out with a choked laugh. ‘It’s like having a sack of flour on top of me.’
An unholy light flashed into Gudrun’s eyes, and Cecily saw that she was about to be on the receiving end of another lewd comment when the door swung open. Candles guttered and the noise from the Hall seemed to rise.
Adam. He had paused, hand on the door-latch, surveying the three of them with a crooked smile. A dark eyebrow lifted and his smile widened.
Cecily shot into an upright position, fumbling to straighten her veil. Matty and Gudrun jumped off the bed, hastily plumping the pillows, smoothing the covers.
‘Sir Adam?’ Cecily said, with as much dignity as could be expected from a noble lady caught romping on the bed with her maid and the family housekeeper.
He closed the door, muting the sounds of the revels, and came towards her. ‘I thought you were tired.’
‘Tired? Oh…y-yes. I was just g-getting ready…’
Matty giggled, Gudrun made a choking sound, and Cecily wished with all her heart that she had insisted on Gudrun explaining the intimate duties of a new bride.
Her mouth was dry. There Adam stood—tall and achingly handsome, with his dark hair gleaming in the candlelight and a smile in those green eyes. If she was to secure her place as his wife and stay near her brother she must ensure that the marriage was consummated. If it was not consummated, she could be set aside. She swallowed. It would help if she knew a little more about the physical aspects of marriage…
Adam tucked his thumbs into his belt, feeling as out of place in his bedroom as it was possible for a man to be on his wedding day. Her face had been alight with laughter, but the moment he’d come into the room the laughter had vanished. And there she was, blinking up at him like an owl from the bed. From their bed. Her hands were shaking. Her wedding ring glinted in the candlelight with every tremor.
He smiled pointedly at Matty and Gudrun. ‘My thanks,’ he said firmly. ‘We can manage on our own.’
‘But, sir,’ Gudrun said, ‘we’re her bridesmaids. We should disrobe—’
‘You have been fine bridesmaids.’ Dipping into his pouch, Adam handed them each a silver penny. ‘Our thanks to you both.’ He sent Gudrun another direct look and searched for the right English words. ‘Your babe—Philip—is crying.’
Gudrun opened her mouth to reply, but Matty caught her by the sleeve and gave a swift headshake. She towed Gudrun to the door.
Watching them go, Adam tipped his head to one side and said softly, ‘Odd, don’t you think, the way she has given that baby a Norman name?’
Cecily scrambled off the bed in a flurry of activity, shaking out the skirts of her gown and yanking at the bedcover. Rose petals fluttered to the floor. Adam narrowed his eyes, wondering whether his question had discomposed her, but then he noticed the rose petals and thought he understood the reason for her sudden burst of activity. He moved towards the bed. He might have his suspicions about young Philip—about her, indeed—but there was no place for them in this room, not tonight. She was innocent, and she deserved a bridegroom who would take care with her.
‘Cecily?’ Her veil quivered. There were two bright spots of colour on her cheeks. Make light of this, he told himself. She’s as nervous as you are. He smiled. ‘You look like a child who has been caught stealing sweetmeats.’
‘D-do I?’
He caught her hand, tried to pull her close, but she hung back and would not meet his gaze. ‘Cecily? Look at me.’
Slowly she raised her head. ‘Sir?’
Her eyes were as wide as a doe’s. Afraid—yes, she was definitely afraid. Laughing with her bridesmaids had been but a mask. ‘I realise we have not known each other long,’ he said. ‘The marriage need not be consummated tonight.’
Against his instincts, ignoring a most unnerving wave of disappointment, he managed to release her and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Nudging aside the rosemary and lavender posy, he tugged off his boots and tossed them into a corner. In the Hall, someone screeched with laughter, the drums pounded. He had started on his belt when a small hand touched his shoulder.
‘But, Adam…’ the quiet voice was puzzled ‘…if we do not complete our marriage with full—physical—union, it will not be a real one. It could be annulled.’
‘That is true.’
‘Then you…we…we must.’
Her gaze was so earnest that he could not doubt her seriousness. Dropping his belt, he stood up. Even without his boots she only came up to his chest. Little Cecily, his Saxon bride.
‘If it is important to you that we consummate this marriage, then we shall,’ he said, hoping that the only sign of the surge of excitement her words had given him was a slight huskiness in his tone.
‘Yes,’ she said steadily. ‘It is important. This must be a true marriage. Only…’
He found himself staring at her mouth, wondering if it tasted as sweet as he remembered. ‘Only…?’
Dark colour swept into her cheeks and her gaze slid past him. ‘I…I don’t know what to do.’
‘Not part of the convent catechism, eh?’
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘N-no.’
He reached for her wrist and this time she did not pull away. Raising it, he kissed the finger with his ring on it. ‘Let me tell you a secret, Cecily,’ he murmured.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m nervous too.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You? But you’ve been married!’
He lifted his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Nevertheless, I am.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Adam had to agree. He didn’t understand it either. He didn’t love her—how could he after so short a time?—but he had not lied. He was nervous.
‘Gwenn and I—’ He stopped. Perhaps it was not quite tactful to mention one’s first wife when one was about to bed one’s second.
But her face was turned expectantly towards his. ‘Gwenn and you…?’
‘I…we…we grew up together, and fell in love as naturally as breathing. With Gwenn the act was…’ He hesitated, at a loss to explain his relationship with Gwenn to this innocent who had spent the latter part of her life stuck behind the walls of a convent.
Her large eyes were wistful. ‘You loved her,’ she said. ‘Were you nervous with Gwenn?’
He shook his head. ‘She was my first. We learned together.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I could never be nervous with Gwenn.’
She shifted closer and laid a tentative, work-worn hand on his chest. ‘You were confident she loved you. You knew you wouldn’t lose her love, that she’d never hate you.’
‘Y-yes.’ Nonplussed, and more than a little disturbed, Adam drew back and turned to the wine on the coffer. For a moment he stared blankly at the twist of steam rising from the jug. Cecily had hit the nail on the head. He had been confident of Gwenn’s love. Whereas now…But, no, if followed to its natural, logical conclusion, her reasoning implied that his present nervousness was due to concern that she, Cecily, should not dislike him. Which was, he thought dismissively, ridiculous. He filled a goblet and passed it to her, the fragrance of the spiced wine rising to his nostrils.
Ridiculous. For him this was a marriage of convenience. He had only admitted to being nervous to set her at ease. Yes, he was strongly attracted to her, but his emotions were not involved. Nor did he wish them