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“Somewhat, my lord,” I admitted.
“Why don’t you rest, then? It will be many hours before we reach Silverhelm. You will want to be well-rested when you meet my family.”
The idea of meeting his family was not something I wished to dwell upon. It was inevitable, and I was more nervous that I cared to admit. Perhaps sleep would keep me from worrying over something I could not change. I looked at the small bench where we sat and wondered just how I would manage to rest in the carriage.
“Put your head here,” Branford said, pulling one of the cushions from the back of the bench and placing it over his lap. “It will be more comfortable for you.”
Blushing slightly, I nodded and lay my head tentatively on his leg with the cushion from the carriage bench between my cheek and his thigh. I felt his hand on my shoulder, closed my eyes, and found myself drifting off quickly but not completely. The sound of the rain on the roof was soothing, even hypnotic, but also just distracting enough to keep me from complete slumber. I lay quite still, not wanting to cause Branford any discomfort, and Branford and Sir Parnell must have assumed I had fallen asleep.
“So, how was your wedding night?” Parnell chuckled. “Did your virgin bride live up to your expectations?”
“That is hardly an appropriate conversation,” Branford answered curtly.
“Appropriate?” Parnell laughed out loud this time though there was no humor in the sound, and Branford shushed him. I felt him glide his fingers over the top of my head through my hair. “Nothing about your little plan here is ‘appropriate,’ Branford.”
“It’s necessary. Appropriateness doesn’t matter.”
“You are avoiding the question.”
I heard Branford sigh, and he continued to work his fingers through strands of my hair. I nearly held my breath, wondering what he would tell his cousin. Would he declare me inadequate or perhaps not speak the truth? The conversation lulled a moment before he responded.
“I didn’t touch her,” he said bluntly.
“Are you joking?” Parnell asked.
“Not in the slightest.”
“Sir Branford Sterling, deflowerer of a dozen princesses, doesn’t open his bride on their wedding night? I’m not sure if people would believe me if I told them. Did you hit the wine too hard, or was she just not to your liking? If she wasn’t, you can have the marriage discounted. Go back and apologize. Pick Whitney as your bride, and put an end to all this nonsense.”
I swallowed to halt the panic inside me.
“No,” Branford responded. “It’s not nonsense, and I wouldn’t marry Whitney unless my only other option was you for a wife. And really, Parnell—it’s not been a dozen.”
“What? Only ten?”
“Hardly, and I’m not going to continue this conversation with you.”
“Well, why didn’t you take her? She is your wife, as ridiculous as that is.”
“Parnell, I’m only going to say this to you once.” Branford’s voice turned cold. “Regardless of your feelings regarding my marriage, Alexandra is my wife now, and you’ll not speak of her with any disrespect. I will not have you refer to my marriage as ridiculous. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sire,” Sir Parnell responded, the tone in his voice switching quickly from jovial friend and cousin to properly chastised servant. “Forgive me.”
I felt Branford’s hand through my hair again, nearly lulling me into true unconsciousness. The carriage bounced through a rough section of the road, then continued on as the driver called out to the horses. The rain lessened, and the pattering sound on top of the carriage became softer.
“Something has changed, has it not?” Parnell said quietly.
“Perhaps.”
“What is it, Branford?”
There was a significant pause before Branford responded.
“Parnell,” he said, “when I came up with this plan, I thought I was considering everything. Edgar would be angered but impotent to react since he brought it on himself. Whitney would be insulted, and between both those reactions, one of the next blows would lead to war. At the same time, it gets Camden off my back about finding a wife. Sunniva holds her tongue about wanting grandchildren, and I get it all—the kingdom expanded when we invade, the crown, an heir, and nothing else changes. At home, I have someone who can take care of me and my needs. I didn’t have any intention of being faithful, so it’s not as if my life away from home would change with the introduction of a wife.”
“I thought I had gone through all possibilities,” Branford said, continuing. “The woman who would be the catalyst was always nameless and faceless. It didn’t matter who she was as long as she wasn’t Whitney. I decided on one of her handmaids while I was out on the field because they sat close to Whitney, and it would be more…visually dramatic. I could walk up right in front of her and turn away at the last second. It would also anger her intensely, which is exactly what I wanted. There must have been a half dozen of them, and I didn’t care which. They would all be skilled in matters of the home, which keeps me from having to employ any servants whose loyalties are questionable. I only picked Alexandra because she looked at me early on, when I was first declared victorious, and she blushed when her eyes met mine. The color on her cheeks was simply lovely, and she has beautiful eyes.”
“Now your bride is no longer nameless and faceless,” Parnell said.
