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“’Twas due to no short-coming of your daughter,” Malcolm assured him quickly.
“Oh, aye, of course,” Bruse replied, waving him off. “And I do not believe Beatrice would have been such a good match for you anyway, for she is…ah…quiet. I did not even broach the subject with her, for now that I have an heir in Samuel, ’tis possible she may go to convent, where I believe she would be most happy. You appear weary, Warwick. ’Tis more than a bit exhausting to be newly wed, as I recall. ” He grinned lecherously, obviously thinking of the recent marriage to his second, much-younger wife, Ondine.
Malcolm felt a pang of frustration and impatience at the reminder. “Aye, but ’tis a wearying of the best kind. Now, as I wish to return to such weary exertion,” he said with a hint of ruefulness, “’tis time for me to ride on. ”
“Very well. Send word once you’ve reached Lilyfare, and I will advise when all is well here,” Bruse said. He went over to bid his wife and son, as well as his daughter, farewell as Mal chafed at yet more delay.
Now he must needs ride slowly because of the ladies, and they would be forced to stop for the night. But, even with that adjustment in his plans, God willing he’d be at Lilyfare by twilight on the morrow. And then he would have all of the night with Judith.
And mayhap part of the next day.
That thought cheered him enough, and as they set out, Mal rode over to greet Ondine, Beatrice, and Samuel—the boy of less than a year old. The fact that Bruse now had a male heir, which would necessitate a smaller dowry for Beatrice, had been only part of the reason Mal had been uncertain about a match with her.
Lord Bruse’s family rode in a comfortable, covered cart, which was the cause of the slower pace. But one of the shutters was open, leaving the opportunity for him to trot along next to the ladies and converse.
“Greetings, Lady Ondine and Lady Beatrice,” he said. “We
shall travel only three more hours and then we will stop for the night. If you wish to ride ahorse for a while, Lady Beatrice or Lady Ondine, I can arrange for it. ”
“Nay, of course I will stay with Samuel,” said Lady Ondine.
“Oh no, my lord,” said Lady Beatrice, who, as usual, seemed scarcely able to look at him, let alone speak. “I am content here inside this cart. ”
“Very well,” Mal said. “Is there aught you need?”
“Nay,” said Lady Beatrice.
As he looked down at her dark blond head and remembered her docile expression, he was overcome by a sudden, fierce wave of gratitude that she had not become his wife after all. “If you are in need of aught, send word and we will stop. ”
And with that, he trotted off, intent on hurrying their speed as much as possible.
Despite his attempts, their pace remained excruciatingly slow. If it wasn’t Ondine who needed to stop, it was Beatrice. Or the child must be let out of the cart to toddle about, and one must take care that he didn’t run beneath the horses or fall into the creek where they drank. The party stopped for the night at a small inn on the roadway a good ten hours from Lilyfare at their rate of travel, and though Mal swore he could see the lights of the village that was his destination, he was forced to make up a pallet on the ground as the inn had only room for the ladies.
He could not sleep that night, and his yearnings to be on the road were so strong that he decided he would ride ahead on the morrow—once they were within several leagues of Lilyfare. He was so intent on this, as he walked through the forest after stretching his legs for the third time in an hour, that he wasn’t paying close enough attention.
It was dark and he didn’t see the small hole in the ground. He stepped in it, catching his foot at an awkward angle. The next thing he knew, he flumped to the ground with a heavy, ignominious thud. He felt a streak of pain along his ankle, and when he furiously pulled himself upright, he found he could not bear weight on that foot.
Letting loose a string of curses that had Rike and Gambert rushing sleepily into the forest after him, Mal hobbled back to the camp, his ankle throbbing with pain. As his squires hovered uselessly, he bound his injured foot up tightly, then lay there on the ground, glowering up at the night sky, livid with himself and whoever had caused him such malfeasance.
As he’d feared, the next morrow his ankle was swollen and so tender to the touch he knew he could not ride ahorse.
When Rike ventured to suggest that Mal could sit in a cart for the remainder of the journey, he exploded.
“A cart? I will ride in a bloody cart on the day I am on my deathbed and not before!” he roared, flinging a mug in the general direction of the hapless boy. “Ride into Lilyfare like an ailing invalid? Are you mad?”
After that, all of his men avoided him—and his throwing distance—while they packed up and prepared to leave. The ladies came out of the inn and were apprised of the circumstances.
“Lord Malcolm will not travel to Lilyfare with you this morrow,” Gambert explained. “But we shall be your escort, and Rike” —who looked miserable, still holding the short straw he’d drawn— “shall remain with my lord until he can travel. ”
Mal was hardly able to muster a civil farewell to the ladies, but at the least, with their departure, he was offered a chamber in the inn. Rike helped him hobble into the public room where he settled in a chair by the fire, propped up his foot, and commenced with ordering mug after mug of ale.
Judith was in the great hall meeting with her steward when the word came. The standard of Warwick had been sighted on the road, and the party would arrive before dusk.
She quelled a rush of excitement, reminding herself that she was still irritated and angry with Malcolm for not telling her of his daughter…but even that small betrayal could not quash her delight at his impending return. Without appearing to do so, she hurriedly finished her business with the steward, then went to her chamber.
Her insides were aflutter and her mind skipped from mental scene to mental scene as she bathed with the help of Tabatha. Of course, she would not rush out to greet Malcolm, skirts flying and hair coming unbound. Nay, that was not meet, and it would not do for him to think her so weak-willed that she had pined for his presence. Even if she had.
But she would have her hair done and don her most beautiful gown, and she would have the most sumptuous meal prepared, and the chamber aired out, and clean bedcoverings put on, and new candles scented with lavender blossoms….
