Page 40 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

Lord Vawdrey grunted. “You’ve made a bad bargain with this one, my fine lady,” he harrumphed.

“Do you think so?” asked Linnet. “I disagree.” She smiled.

His father blinked. “Well, you’ve got all your teeth,” he said weakly.

“She’s not a horse,” Mason found himself pointing out caustically. “Come and sit down. Or do you want to wash off your travel dirt first?”

He felt irritated by the timing of his sire’s visit. What the devil did he want? When Linnet went to move to away, he grabbed and pulled her back to him.

His father scowled at him and then collapsed into a chair.

“Bring ale and another plate, for Lord Vawdrey,” said Linnet, turning to one of the gawping servants.

Mason sat back down and pulled Linnet to sit between his legs. He sent a lazy look of challenge across to his father whose jaw jutted aggressively. Maybe it was all the ale he had consumed, but he was finding it hard to concentrate on his father’s ire. Not when Linnet’s hair smelled so sweet and she was so distractingly close. Damn the old man’s eyes for turning up at such an inopportune moment! He would have hustled her between the bedsheets within a half hour but for this interruption. He rested his chin on her shoulder as she picked daintily at her vegetables. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced up to find his brother curious and his father outraged.

“How was your journey, my Lord?” asked Linnet brightly.

His father’s mouth opened and closed. “As well as could be expected,” he muttered angrily, as a servant placed a cup and plate before him. “Given the ill tidings I have received of late!”

“You mean of our marriage,” said Linnet, taking the bull by the horns. “But indeed, Mason did me a great favor by stepping into the breach and—”

“Linnet,” Mason cut her off. “We don’t owe him any explanation, sweeting.” He spoke the words low, for her ears only, but ’twas plain that they had carried when his father made a sound of choked indignation.

She half turned her head towards him. “But I don’t want him blaming you,” she whispered over her shoulder. “After all, ’twas my proposal and . . . ”

He squeezed her hip. “Are you trying to unman me, Linnet?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated. “No, but . . . ”

“Then it was my proposal,” he corrected her. “Never let it be said otherwise.”

For a moment, it was just the two of them alone in the room, looking into one another’s eyes. Then she gave a small nod. “Very well,” she answered. “If that’s what you want . . . ”

“It is.”

He looked up to find his father’s eyes trained on them as roasted meat was piled onto his plate. Lord Vawdrey cleared his throat. “When did she rise from the sick bed?” he growled, rudely ignoring his daughter-in-law’s presence.

“There was no sick bed,” Mason answered drily. “I see you have been listening to the Jevonses lies.”

Lord Vawdrey dropped his knife with a clatter. “No sick bed?” he echoed, his voice rising.

“No sick bed,” confirmed Linnet quietly.

“And why was I not informed of this?” demanded his father. “Why did you not write to Roland, of this gross deception?”

Mason shrugged a shoulder. “You sent me to jilt her. Not make enquiries after her health,” he pointed out.

His father slammed his fists onto the table. “Disgraceful!” he roared.

Linnet jumped and Mason wrapped his arms around her waist. “He’s a shouter,” he whispered into her ear. “Don’t let it bother you. I never have.”

“How dare you sit there, scoundrel! Cozying up to your own brother’s betrothed!”

“She’s my wife,” retorted Mason. “I’ll do as I damn well please.”

“Aye, you’ve proven that!” bawled his father furiously. “Stepping into Roland’s shoes as cool as you please! A pretty way to behave to your own kin!”

“Sir Roland never replied to my letter,” put in Linnet loudly. “I wrote to him and he never responded.”