Page 38 of The Mister I Married

Of course she couldn’t.

“Good night, Emmy,” Tess said from her side of the bed, her smile sleepy. “I’m awfully glad my brother married you.”

Despite her roiling thoughts, Emmy managed to return her smile. “Good night, Tess. Sleep well.”

She waited while Tess settled deeper under the bed linens before snuffing out the candle on the bedside table. Rolling onto her side, she tucked the covers under her chin and closed her weary eyes.

What a day. The wedding had gone almost exactly as she’d expected it to—hectic, nerve-wracking, emotional—but the wedding night? She’d had no idea what to expect from that, though her mind had conjured up a parade of possibilities that ran the gamut from marvelous to mortifying.

She thought she’d considered them all, but clearly she was wrong, for never once in all her imaginings had she considered she might spend her wedding night with the groom’s sister instead of the groom.

“What a lovely inn,” Tess said the following morning as the trio climbed into the carriage to leave for Bristlewood. “Odd name, though. Is ‘river rooster’ what the locals call a duck?”

She sat down then glanced back and forth between Alex and Emmy, apparently expecting an answer.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Emmy said with as much grace as she could muster.

Her sister-in-law’s restless limbs had kept her up all night, and she was tired and grumpy and more than happy to leave the River Rooster Inn far, far behind her.

“I like that.” Alex rapped his knuckles on the ceiling to alert the driver they were ready to leave. “I think I’ll call them river roosters from now on.”

“Then what will you call roosters?” Tess asked.

Alex pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Cluck ducks, maybe?”

Tess laughed. “Oh, Alex, that is awful.”

Emmy sank deeper into her seat and sighed, only half-listening to the gratingly cheerful banter. She, apparently, was the only one who hadn’t slept well last night, a fact which irked her no end.

A better person would, of course, be glad to be the only one who’d suffered a sleepless night, but she was far too grumpy to care. Self-improvement would have to wait for another day.

Of course, when Alex had asked her earlier how she’d slept last night, she’d lied through her smile and said she slept like the dead. The last thing she wanted was her new husband thinking she’d been up all night because of him, a despondent bride with no bridegroom on her wedding night.

After all, she had her pride.

Fighting back a yawn, she turned her gaze to the passing countryside, the cool, gray morning making her yearn for another hot cup of coffee. She’d never been this far west before. Even beneath the dark gray sky, the rolling green hills and towering oaks were undeniably beautiful, and although it drizzled intermittently along the way, the journey passed without incident.

It was nearly three o’clock when Bristlewood finally came into view. Emmy’s mouth fell open at the sight of it. Tess and Alex had not been exaggerating when they’d called the place towering.

A behemoth structure constructed of gray granite, the castle—for that’s what it was, a bona fide castle—stood tall and formidable with turrets and parapets and, yes, even its own butter-churn tower with a bright red banner on top, kicking to and fro in the breeze.

Emmy gaped at it through the carriage window all the way up the lane and into the courtyard where the carriage came to a stop. The door opened immediately, and a groom appeared to hand the ladies down.

“Oh, it is good to be home,” Tess said, already loosening her bonnet strings as she stepped out onto the rain-misted gravel. “I’ve missed this place so much.”

Emmy stepped out after her, sweeping her gaze over the courtyard. It was difficult to imagine calling this mammoth stone fort home, but she supposed she would have to start. For better or worse, Bristlewood was her home now.

“Emmy.”

She turned at the sound of her name and met Alex’s gaze, noting instantly the hint of wariness in his eyes.

“Yes?” she asked. “What is it, Alex?”

He drew her aside, out of earshot of the servants, who were busily unloading the carriage.

“Before you meet my father,” he said, “I feel I ought to warn you that he can be…maudlin, at times. Mostly, he’s even-tempered, even charming, but occasionally he…isn’t.”

Emmy frowned, trying to understand. “Is he violent?”