“I should be delighted.”
Charles smiled at her, his purplish lips quivering. He was shifting around quite a bit, nervously and drunkenly, rubbing his left hand a good deal. But Avalyn didn’t notice too much; she was more concerned with what the evening would bring. She wondered if it would be better to get it over with rather than try to delay the inevitable.
“I… I am glad we are finally married,” she said. “You have been a kind and generous soul.”
He was looking at her with his big brown eyes, like two spots of mud within his fat pasty face. “I have told you since the beginning that I would endeavor to make a fine husband. Though there were a few times when I thought you would slip away, I had always hoped I would break through to you. Perhaps I finally have.”
She lowered her gaze, looking at her hands. “I understand that I am fortunate.”
He sat forward in his chair, obvious to the groaning of the wood and leather. “’Tis I who am the fortunate one, my lady. Did you like the gifts I gave you?”
She smiled weakly at him, fingering the jewelry around her neck. “They were magnificent, all of them; the cloak, the rings, the necklaces. Just lovely.”
“Good,” he sat back, pleased with himself. “I like giving you gifts. I shall give you a gift every day for the rest of our marriage.”
She laughed softly. “If we are married fifty years that could get to be an expensive habit.”
He shrugged nonchalantly, pleased he could make her laugh. The conversation died for the moment and he went back to rubbing his left hand furiously. It was then that Avalyn noticed what he was doing.
She gestured towards his hand. “Is something wrong, my lord?”
He didn’t know what she meant until he looked down and saw that he was indeed massaging his hand. He extended the digits, turning his hand over as if to gain a better look at it.
“Nay,” he finally said, rising from the chair and weaving about. “I must have hurt it somehow. It is sore.”
She nodded in understanding, noticing that he was looking at the bed. He caught her expression and the pleasant mood that had he tried hard to establish was fading. Charles resumed unconsciously rubbing his hand as he faced her.
“If you do not want to,” his voice was quiet. “I will not force you. I would be happy just to talk to you.”
It would have been so easy to accept his offer. Lord knows, she wanted to. She was incredibly close to agreeing. But in the last moment she restrained herself, knowing what must be done. There was no use in delaying it, especially if Charles was to think the child was his. Tears threatened, those of fright and revulsion and sorrow, but she fought them.
“We are married, my lord,” her voice was small, tight. “It is your right. It is expected.”
“But we do not…”
“I appreciate your kindness. But we must.”
Suddenly, he seemed more reluctant than she did. He yanked the mantle off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground in a sloppy action. Sitting heavily on the bed, he almost fell off but caught his balance. He just sat there a moment, staring at the floor. Avalyn watched him, growing increasingly curious about his behavior; when the man should clearly be eager to assume his husbandly duties, Charles seemed very reluctant.
“Is… is something wrong, my lord?” she asked hesitantly.
He shook his head. Then he nodded. The hand-rubbing grew more furious as he refused to meet her gaze. “I… I should have told you this before, but I could not…”
He trailed off and her brow furrowed with concern. “Told me what? Is something amiss?”
He still refused to look at her. He took a deep breath. “I was afraid that you would call off the marriage. You would have every right to, you know.”
“Know what?”
“Your uncle did not know. He would have never allowed the betrothal had he possessed an inkling of…”
Avalyn suddenly stood up. “Inkling of what? Charles, you’re not making any sense.”
He looked at her as she raised her voice. His big brown eyes glimmered with emotion, perhaps those of sorrow and shame. “Please do not be angry with me.”
He looked like a scolded child. Calming herself, she went to him, kneeling down beside him and laying her hand on his arm. “I promise I shall not become angry. What is it? You must tell me.”
He gazed down at her for several long moments before taking another deep breath. Then he looked at his hands. “I cannot… that is to say, it has been years since I have been able to… perform as a man should.”
