Page 99 of Wed By Proxy

“You have no idea what maidens dream of,” she pointed out with a smothered laugh.

“That may be so,” he conceded. “But dreams are dreams, and you madam, seduced me.”

“I?”

“You,” he said firmly.

“I did, didn’t I?” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes alight with admiration. “I should probably warn you,” she said, biting her lip, “that after your audience with the queen and my mother…”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to do it all over again.”

He groaned, tipping his head back to rest on the chair. “You little witch,” he complained. “How am I supposed to concentrate now on the task at hand?”

Her eyes danced. “You’ll manage,” she patted his shoulder. “I have every faith in you.”

XXXXII

Her mother had been shocked, and the queen delighted when the Marquess of Martindale had gone down on one knee before them, humbly appealing for the return of his wife.

“She has put you through the mill, this one, I think, no?” The queen had speculated, her eyes gleaming. “And brought this proud warrior to his knees?”

“Once proud, your majesty,” Guy had corrected her heavily. “She has all but destroyed me. My pride lies in tatters.”

Mathilde could remember her mother’s astonishment and the queen’s high glee. “But yes!” Queen Armenal had breathed, clapping her hands. “This is very satisfactory. But very satisfactory to me!”

“I would face any challenge,” he had declared. “Swear any vow to ensure her return.”

“But I haven’t gone anywhere!” Mathilde had pointed out and been ignored.

As the interview had continued, Mathilde had realized with dismay, that the queen fully intended promoting her to a position of eminence among her ladies. “Oh, but your majesty—” She had started to protest, but Guy had squeezed her hand, and given the tiniest shake of his head.

“But how can I spend time at the southern court?” she had demanded in an indignant whisper. “When I have no intention of leaving your side?”

He had smiled at her words and then in a low voice responded. “My love, there is no southern court, there is only one royal court these days. And if you’re there, just where do you imagine I will be?”

That had brought her up short. “You wouldn’t.” she had answered uncertainly. “Would you?”

“I would,” he had answered firmly. “You’re going nowhere without me.”

Later that night, they had lain together in one of the guest bedrooms at Woodcote House.

“You did not mind,” Mathilde said anxiously. “That the queen wished for us to remain one night here before returning to Acton March?”

“Nay wife, I care not where we are, so long as we are together.”

“Tell me about Prudie, and Destrian and the hens.” She had demanded after they lay in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Guy had been as good as his word. First he had been painstakingly tender and slow and taken great care with lavishing his every attention on her, whispering sweet nothings and praise in her ear the whole time. Then she had sunk her nails into his back and he had responded every bit as ferociously as she could have wished. She watched the rise and fall now of his hairy chest, as his labored breathing returned to normal.

He did not seem to have heard her request, for he turned his head and swiftly kissed her shoulder. “Mouse indeed,” he mocked. “If only they knew.”

“Someone once said I was more like a mink,” she admitted. He lifted his head at that and frowned. “Small and exquisite, with sharp teeth.”

“Who the hells said that?” he asked sounding annoyed.

Mathilde thought a change of subject might be expedient. “Tell me about Prudie, Destrian and the hens,” she insisted.

His hand rested at her hip as he considered this with a pucker between his brows. “Prudie and Destrian are well, as are the hens. Waldon and Rob are here so you can ask them in the morn. Now tell me, who said that to you.” His expression was foreboding in the extreme. Mathilde reached up to brush the fall of dark hair back from his brow.