did not want to leave no matter what judgment was cast onto her name.
“I promise that I will never willingly leave you again, husband.”
His face became serious, his keen stare cutting into hers, but she stood steady, without flinching, for she had never been more sincere.
“I swear it, Curan.”
He sat the bundle down and swept her off her feet a moment later, cradling her against his chest, his arms threatening to crush her with the amount of strength he used.
“I still want to keep you nude and locked in my chamber. But as a reward.”
He settled her in the bed once more, and she pressed her lower lip out in a pout.
“You seem to not understand how to respond to the gift of my promise to you. Locking me up is not a reward,
“And you, sweet Bridget, seem to not understand that I intend to be locked in here with you. With nothing to do save show you how very devoted I can be.”
“Ah …” She purred softly and gained a soft growl from him. “Now that is an altogether different proposal.”
His eyebrow arched. “One that you are interested in entertaining, perhaps?”
“If you promise to be entertaining, I am definitely interested.”
Someone pounded on the chamber door at dawn.
“Begone!”
Bridget smothered a giggle because her husband sounded gruff, but there was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. He shot a glare at the door and pulled the bedding up around them to cover their bare bodies. His cock was hard against her thigh, and she raised her knee so that her leg brushed along it.
“I could become used to awakening at first light if you are in this bed with me, wife.”
He nuzzled against her, his lips pressing a warm kiss against her throat. He captured one breast and gently thumbed the nipple until it hardened. The pounding began once more.
“I said, begone!” He roared loud enough to wake the stable grooms.
The door opened in spite of his order, and a male voice clearing his throat caused her husband’s grip to flex against her breast. He muttered something against her neck before turning over to face his man. He yanked the bedding up to his shoulders so that she was covered.
“My apologies, my lord, yet I must speak with you.”
“Nay, you do not.” Curan rolled over, giving his back to Synclair. He trapped her leg so that she could not toy with him any further, but his hand returned to cup her breast and toy with the nipple again. Little waves of enjoyment began to ripple down her body, and her face heated to know that Synclair knew what his lord was about.
“We are observing the French custom of a honeymoon. Tell someone to bring us some honey mead on your way out, and tell everyone to leave us behind a closed door for the rest of the month.”
Synclair did not appear put off by his lord’s gruffness. The knight boldly entered the chamber, his face a mask of fury.
“Forgive me, Lord Ryppon, but you are requested below.”
Curan stroked her belly instead, his fingers sending little ripples of delight across her bare skin. She pushed at his hand, humiliation making her squirm.
“I am occupied, Synclair. I have given you the authority to act however you see fit. Use it to deal with whatever is below.”
A soft sound came from the knight, and Bridget peeked over Curan’s shoulder at him. Something flickered in Synclair’s eyes that looked like triumph, but he canceled it quickly, his lips pressing back into a hard line. He drew in a deep breath.
“We have messengers from court arrived.”
The hand teasing her belly froze, and she felt her husband’s body tensing.
“You have been summoned to Whitehall along with Mistress Newbury.”
Her husband rolled over and tucked the sheeting across her body in one swift motion. Synclair extended a parchment that Curan sat up and snatched from his hand. The bottom was fixed with a wax seal bearing the rampant lion of the king. But what sent ice through her veins was the clear ink spelling out her maiden name. The parchment crushed inside her husband’s fist.
“Ready my men.”
Curan spoke in a deadly whisper. His eyes glittered with outrage. Synclair did not hesitate but turned almost before his lord finished giving him his instructions. Her husband cupped her chin.
“I am sorry if you love your father, Bridget, for I believe I may have to kill him.”
Curan meant his words. Bridget saw the rage burning in his eyes throughout the day. She did not get the chance to try to reason with him. His men were obedient, but it was clear that they did not care for the order to set out onto the road so soon again.
They did it nonetheless and with less argument than she might have expected. Reluctance tugged on her as well, the sight of her mare being led around to the front steps of Amber Hill making her frown. Several aches suddenly complained loudly, making her grit her teeth in order to gain the saddle. They took to the road without conversation, the expressions of the men around her grim.
Bridget felt the weight of judgment pressing down on her. She could not say that she had not been warned.
