Brows furrowed, Rónán walked to the hearth, turned. “What of the lass?”
“What of her?” Aiden asked.
“She believes ’tis her wedding night,” his friend replied. “She will expect you to bed her.”
Aiden stilled. In the chaos, he hadn’t considered the possibility of their sharing a chamber, or the repercussions of that intimate setting. He recalled how her face had paled at the prospect of an immediate marriage, and the pounding in his head eased. “Given Lady Gwendolyn’s dismay at the news of our imminent marriage, I doubt she will be troubled if I dinna share her chamber.”
“With the celebrating after your vows,” Cailin said, “and more than likely the revelers following you to her chamber, I dinna think you will have a choice of where you sleep this night.”
God’s sword, their being alone was never to have been an issue. Except the priest’s imminent departure had laid waste to his plans.
For an instant, his body hardened at thoughts of the sheer loveliness of Lady Gwendolyn’s curves. In different circumstances, he couldna deny he would be interested in exploring her alluring form. Yet he couldn’t ignore his greater duty, or that he wasn’t her betrothed. When he used a false name for the upcoming marriage, he would notbe her husband.
Though she was beautiful, and regardless if she intrigued him, or that he’d never met a woman like her before, with ease he could keep his distance. How many nights had he spent in the desert with naught but a blanket to cover him, or sailed with a galley of knights preparing for an attack. Sleeping in a chamber with the lass was naught but another obligation.
“Given the earl’s renowned dictatorial manner, she will expect a quick bedding,”Cailin warned.
A muscle worked in Aiden’s jaw. “Bedamned with what Lord Balfour would have done. I refuse to make a mockery of the sanctity of marriage any more than necessary.”
But his friend’s words held wisdom, ones he damned. She would expect his sharing their marriage bed, but based on her reaction when she learned their wedding would be this night, intimacy was something she loathed. A fact he would bend in his favor.
Aiden refused to ponder her naked curves or soft sighs. Instead, he thought of what was within his control. “Once the bedchamber door closes, I will devise a reason to allow her to sleep alone.”
“What of the well-wishers who will camp outside the chamber and demand proof of Lady Gwendolyn’s innocence?” Cailin asked.
“A simple task to take care of, which doesna involve her.”
Rónán arched a brow. “And she will comply with your deceit before her people?”“I believe she will, at least for the few days we are here,” Aiden said.
Based on their prolonged silence, neither of his men seemed convinced of his plan.
A shout, then laughter echoed fromthe great room.
He frowned. “We must return before Lady Gwendolyn arrives.” With his men on his heels, Aiden exited the chamber and strode to the dais, anxious for the time they could depart.
* * * *
Torchlight filled the great room as Lady Gwendolyn stood before Father Iames, noting the way his cassock hung from his reed-thin frame, and the deep lines of worry creasing his brow.
Through her dread, she forced herself to smile. She refused to add anguish to a man she’d known all her life, one who was more than the priest of this stronghold but a friend, one who knew of her reluctance to marry.
Heart pounding, she faced her betrothed, aware of his eyes lowering to her ivory silk gown with a scowl. Let him be irritated by her choice. After her first marriage, she refused to wear white. Though elaborate, this attire wasn’t crafted for a wedding. ’Twas a gown her father had gifted her with months ago as a surprise for an upcoming trip to meet with Lord Comyn.
Weeks after, he had died.
She slid her thumb over the embroidered gold detail at the edge of one of the long sleeves, appreciating the elegance of the gown, of how the simple ivory top narrowed at the waist, then opened in a vee to the floor to expose a delicate weave of golden flowers. For that momentous occasion, every detail had been considered, from matching panels sewn into the exposed sleeves to the ivory pearls and gold beads threaded into a Celtic pattern that surrounded her neck. But most of all, she had loved that her father had taken the time to select a dress for her ofsuch elegance.
Tears burned her throat as she remembered how she’d learned he’d died, how she’d collapsed on her bed and wept until she had no tears left. Heartbroken, she’d stowed the gown deep inside a chest, never again to be seen, the gift given out of love naught but a reminder of his death.
Today, she found this garb a fitting reminder of dreams shattered.
Numb, she took in the pride and joy on the faces of her men filling the great room when all she wanted to do was scream with outrage atthis marriage.
Lord Balfour shifted beside her.
Gwendolyn stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence until decorum dictated the commencement of thishorrendous act.
Like a death knell, the peals of the chapel bell announcing Vespers sounded.
