“How so?”
“In that vows spoken with us did not make our Norman husbands rich.”
“You forget, Lady, though neither did I bring lands to my marriage, there was much gain—the lives of those who went separate ways rather than slaughter one another.”
“Still you love Guy. As he is no grasping Norman, you can be assured what he feels for you now and later is pure.” Of a sudden, she frowned, then gave a little laugh. “Listen to me—spilling my truths and advice as if we are the best of friends. Hopefully, it is a portent of things to come. Now I will leave you to your rest.”
When the door closed and her footfalls faded, Vilda lowered to the bed. “I hope it as well,” she whispered, then turned on her side and closed her eyes.
The messenger had been sent to Blackspur.
When Guy had attended to the hushed voices of Maxen and Rhiannyn after catching Elan’s name and made sense of what was spoken, he had protested the change of plans. Ashamedly, it was not out of consideration for what his presence here disrupted, but that the renewal of his acquaintance with Maxen had decided him against continuing to forego their friendship as he had done to save Elan, her husband, and himself discomfort.
Having determined to return to his family’s demesne in Derbyshire and position himself to accept land offered by his cousin once it became available, Guy had no intention of settling near Etcheverry. However, in that moment it had seemed best to use the opportunity of Elan and Edwin’s visit to be done with the awkwardness, ensuring the family made with Vilda would be as welcome here as Maxen and his family would be at the castle Guy would raise upon Boltstone.
But as his friend had reasoned, though he was prepared to face his former betrothed and her husband, it was not for him alone to decide on the timing. Thus, Elan and Edwin would learn he was here with his bride and, assured of their welcome, themselves determine if it was best to smooth what was rough on the morrow or another day.
Of course, there was another who should have been consulted about the timing, and she would have been had not the maid sent abovestairs reported Vilda was asleep and could not be roused—just as later Rhiannyn had been unable to rouse her for the evening meal, throughout which Guy had considered what he had confessed to Maxen of his feelings that must be better expressed to Vilda.
When he had climbed the stairs, he had thought he was prepared. Now, standing alongside the bed in the light of the candle he brought inside, staring at the woman he had wed for reasons beyond preventing bloodshed, he wondered if he should wait until she awakened on her own.
Never before had she looked so peaceful. Her brow was smooth, color was in cheeks beneath shadows cast by thick lashes, softly parted lips were more full than remembered, and freshly washed hair had dried in waves all around her face and the shoulders of an embroidered white chemise that surely belonged to Rhiannyn.
He smiled. Considering that woman’s good heart that he had believed selfish years past, likely the garment had been given rather than loaned to Vilda.
Though Guy knew it was best to awaken her so she had more time to prepare should Elan and her husband appear on the morrow, he wavered. Amid indecision, he removed his belt and boots and lowered into a chair he drew nearer what was to be their nuptial bed.
My wife, he thought with wonder, and not for the first time. When he had lain beside her on the chapel floor, he had been struck by how agreeable it was. Not fully understanding himself then, all he could do was assure her he was not sorry they had spoken vows.
But when she awakened—whether of her doing or his—he would seek to settle her soul as done his throughout the journey to Etcheverry. Then if the time was right, their vows would be sealed.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Vilda was not one to waste time on the belief she could sleep away her worries, but it would be a lie to say it was only fatigue that held her abed each time she awakened to daylight, dusk, and dark—and this time candlelight that caused the ceiling to glow and shadows to dance up the walls.
Still I am alone, she thought and, tightly closing the fingers of her left hand into her palm so she not lose Guy’s ring, turned onto her side. What she glimpsed before completely lowering her lids made her spring them wide.
Hands draped over the arms of the chair in which he sat was her husband, and though his head was back as if he peered down his nose at her, he slept. As the chair lacked padding, it could not be comfortable sleeping, but was it preferable to joining her in bed?
She did not want to believe it since he had said he was not sorry they wed, but perhaps all changed now that Lady Elan was much nearer in thought—and would be nearer if she appeared on the morrow.
Vilda started to turn opposite, but coming alongside ache was something else. Jealousy? It was, and if it was warranted, surely she could be forgiven since Guy was now bound to her for life—rather, once there was consummation.
Dare I? she wondered, then sat up and turned back the coverlet. The chemise Rhiannyn had sent her was fine and fit well for being a loose undergarment. When Vilda had donned it, she had
