Page 36 of The Mister I Married

Chapter Eleven

“The food is very good, isn’t it?” Tess said that evening over dinner in The River Rooster Inn’s cozy dining room. “The lamb is cooked to perfection.”

Emmy battled a smile as her sister-in-law attacked another bite like a starving woman. “Everything is delicious,” she agreed before sipping her wine.

Alex set his knife and fork on his empty plate and leaned back in his chair, sighing contentedly. “I certainly have no complaints.”

The River Rooster was a roadside inn, lightly weathered but clean and comfortable, and its proprietors, an elderly married couple called Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, were friendly hosts and quite generous with the food and wine. Of course, they might have been less generous had the room been fuller. As it was, Emmy, Alex and Tess were the only guests here.

“One always hears such vitriol about inn fare,” Tess went on. “I could eat here every night and be perfectly content. The wine is more than acceptable, too.”

She raised her glass to her lips—her third glass—and drank deep.

“You’re going to give yourself a stomach ache if you keep that up,” Alex said. “And then you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Oh, tosh. You know I can sleep anywhere and at any time.” Tess pointed her fork at her brother. “It is you who has trouble sleeping. You had best hope the mattresses here are comfortable.”

Talk of mattresses led to thoughts of beds, which naturally led to thoughts of their wedding night. Emmy swallowed. She would be sharing a bedchamber—a bed—with her husband tonight.

Her husband. A man.

She reached for her glass of wine.

“How long will it take to get to Bristlewood tomorrow?” she asked, after she’d downed half the glass.

“If we depart at dawn, we should arrive by noon,” Alex said, apparently perfectly serious.

“Dawn?” Tess croaked out, her fork falling with a thunk on her plate.

Emmy pursed her lips. Her sentiments, exactly. “So,” she said slowly, “if we were to depart by, say, eight o’clock, we would arrive by two?”

Alex grinned at her unsubtle hint. “I thought you were an early riser.”

“An early riser, yes. A glutton for punishment, no.”

He chuckled. “Very well. Eight, it is.”

Tess picked up her fork and nodded her satisfaction. “I knew I would like having a sister-in-law.”

They spent the next half-hour sharing stories of childhood escapades, and Emmy heard a great deal about Bristlewood, which was, apparently, a drafty, towering stone structure that dated back to the sixteenth century and positively brimmed with character.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Emmy said sincerely. “It sounds like it was a wonderful place to grow up.”

“It was,” Tess said, sharing a smile with her brother.

“Well,” Alex said, “I think it’s time we all retired for the evening, hm? It’s been a long day, and I’m sure we’re all tired.”

“I know I am,” Tess said, eating one last bite of potato before pushing back her chair. “I could sleep for days.”

Emmy wasn’t tired, though. Not at all.

Emmy was nervous.

Alex moved to stand behind her, pulling her chair back as she stood on shaky legs, her heart thundering in her chest. Her husband’s hand cupped her elbow as they made their way from the dining room, and his nearness made her skin feel far too tight for her limbs. She swallowed.

Saints be, why was she so anxious?

Copulation was hardly a new invention. Sooner or later, most everyone did it. And now, it was her turn.