The Unveiling - Tamara Leigh (rooftoppers TXT) 📗

way to change that.

“You do not snore, Husband,” Annyn mused, eyebrows gathered as she considered something on the chest at the foot of the bed before which she stood.

How had she known he had awakened? During these past few minutes in the earliest hour of morning, he had watched her move about the dim solar, lingering over the tapestries, frowning at the fine linen curtains gathered back from the bed, turning the ring that proclaimed her his wife, tempting him as she paced in nothing save the coverlet beneath which they had met last eve.

He sat up. “I am pleased to hear I do not snore. Did you think I might?”

She reached to the clothes he had discarded atop the chest, lifted his belt, and removed the misericorde awarded him upon his knighting, the same he had passed to Jonas only to have it returned by this woman who now professed to love him.

Love... As disturbing as her words of the night past were, and though he could not speak them himself, it felt as if they occupied every empty space within him—and even those he had not thought empty.

Annyn turned the misericorde. “You snored the night I came to render this unto you.”

“That is because I wished you to believe I slept.”

Her gaze flew to his. “You knew?”

“Only that someone had come within.”

“But you let me... You did naught until I was upon you!”

He arched an eyebrow. “Lesson sixteen, lady wife, guard well one’s knowledge of one’s opponent.”

She swept up a hand. “Pray, no more. I am no longer a squire in need of lessons.”

“Aye, but now you are my wife, and for that there are also lessons.”

Her lips tilted. “Far different, I expect.”

“In some things.”

“Tell.”

Wanting her as he had not wanted any woman, he crooked a finger. “Come nearer and I will show you.”

Blushing, she lowered her gaze to the dagger she had yet to set aside, and her humor cleared. “I would have you know that I could not do it.”

“What?”

“The night I came to your chamber, I could not do that which brought me to Wulfen.”

Could not kill him? But she had—

“I did not understand it then, but I must have known you could not have killed Jonas. You were not such a man, and surely no man can so greatly change.”

“You are saying you would not have cut my throat?”

“’Twas as I intended, but when I drew the dagger back, I realized my mistake.” She shook her head. “Ere I could withdraw, you seized me.”

He had sensed hesitation when the intruder stood over him, but death had been too near to discover the truth of it.

“I ask that you believe me in this.”

He searched her eyes. Though his father would have rebuked him for believing what he found in a woman’s eyes, he said. “I believe you, Annyn.”

She sighed. “Thank you, Husband.”

That simple title from her lips made him want to make love to her again. In the next instant his passion faltered. Love? Only an expression.

“This belief I tried to kill you,” she said, “is it the reason you continue to carry Jonas’s dagger?”

“As a reminder?” He shrugged. “In part, but more because the misericorde was first mine.”

She startled, as he inwardly did for having said what did not need to be told. What a lack wit he was in her presence! But it was no less than his father had warned—always a woman turned a man from his purpose.

“Yours, Garr?”

“Aye.” He motioned her to the bed.

She came around and laid the misericorde in his hand.

He turned the weapon and tapped the steel beneath the hilt. “Those are my initials.”

Annyn leaned forward and peered at the fine scratchings. “G.W.” She shook her head. “As I did not know your Christian name, I believed the initials were the mark of the blacksmith who forged it. I feel the fool.”

Garr lowered his gaze over her bared neck and shoulders, pulled her down beside him, and tossed the dagger to the far side of the mattress. “Now for another lesson.”

However, as he bent to claim her mouth, she said, “Why did you give Jonas your dagger?”

Berating himself as he had done often since Annyn had come crashing into his life, he fell onto his back beside her.

Why had he given Jonas his dagger? Memory swept him back to Lincolnshire all those years ago: anger lengthening his stride through the wood, Merrick struggling for breath to stay near, movement ahead, a body swaying among tree limbs, Jonas’s face mottled and contorted above a noose. The sight had nearly made him retch, not only for the shame of such a death, but that his harsh words and judgment had moved the young man to take his life.

He had known what he must do. And that no others must know, excepting Abel and Everard whose aid he had enlisted, and, of course, Merrick. While the squire had wheezed with his back to the scene, Garr had cut down Jonas, thus setting in motion a plan gone terribly awry.

“Garr?”

He raised his lids to find Annyn leaning over him. He reached up and fingered the black strands sweeping her cheek. “I cut him down.”

Her gaze wavered.

“But I could not return him like that. Though he betrayed—”

“He did not—”

“Hear me and I will tell you all I should not.”

She nodded stiffly.

“Though few die while in training, and usually only in battle, they are returned home wearing the Wulfen misericorde of knighthood to which they aspired.” He drew a deep breath. “I knew I should not gird one on Jonas, but I could do no less for him. As there was no time to return to Wulfen, I fastened my own misericorde on him that his death would appear honorable.” She did not need to know it was the same blade that had put the false wound to her brother’s chest.

Annyn looked away.

“And you know the reason I made his death appear honorable?”

“Because you knew Jonas could not have taken his own life.”

“By faith, woman!” He pushed onto his elbows, bringing their faces so near she jerked back to avoid what might have meant a bloody nose for one or both. “As I told before, I did it to spare your family shame, but also”—finally it would be spoken, and no more could he deny it—“I did it to ease my guilt over the judgment that pushed Jonas to a place that made death a better choice. Guilt I should not have felt for such a betrayer.”

“Betrayer! I knew him better than ever you could, Garr Wulfrith.”

“You think you knew him.”

“I did!” She slapped a hand to her chest. “He was my brother.”

“Listen to me—”

A knock shattered their private world. “My lord!” Squire Warren’s voice came through the door. “Sir Abel bids me to tell you that Duke Henry approaches Stern.”

Though Garr was grateful for last night’s reprieve that had ensured consummation of his marriage, he bitterly wished for an hour more so that he and Annyn might put Jonas behind them.

“Send to my brother and tell him to hold Henry outside the walls until I come to the hall.”

“I shall, my lord.” There were murmurings in the corridor, then Warren called through, “The maid, Josse, has come to attend your lady wife, my lord.”

Garr dropped his feet to the rushes, strode to the bed’s end post, and pulled his robe from the peg. As he pushed his arms into it, he glanced at Annyn in her coverlet and followed her horrified gaze to the lower sheet that was marked with blood.

She whipped her head up, eyes turning more stricken when she saw he also saw. She wrenched the top sheet over it. “I do not understand. ’Tis not my time. Indeed, it is well past.”

It took Garr a moment to understand the embarrassment that bubbled from her, and when he did, he nearly smiled. She thought it was her menses. What else had she not been told about being a woman? Did she know whence babies came?

He sighed. “I am relieved I shall not have to cut my hand after all.”

“Why would you do that?”

He cinched the belt of his robe, stepped forward, and tossed back the top sheet. “Virgin’s blood, Annyn. All the proof needed that a woman was chaste when she spoke her vows and the marriage was consummated.”

Her frown deepened. “This is usual?”

“I do not know if ’tis usual, but it is as the church wishes it.”

She looked back at the marked sheet, then once more whipped the top sheet over it. “You are saying that had I not...virgin’s blood, you would have provided evidence yourself?”

“Aye, and I am pleased ’twill not be necessary.”

“But who other than you and I would know?”

She was not going to like what he told. “Annyn—”

“My son!” his mother called through the door. “Make haste. Henry approaches.”

“Enter!”

It was Samuel who opened the door. His face averted to afford his lord and lady privacy, he stepped aside as Lady Isobel and Josse entered. A moment later, the door closed behind them. One look at Annyn on the bed, the coverlet clutched to her, and both women smiled.

“Come, Daughter.” Isobel bestowed the intimate title without strain or falsity. “We shall prepare you in Garr’s chamber so that Squire Samuel may tend his lord.”

Eyes large in her pretty face, Annyn drew the coverlet nearer and swung her feet to the floor.

Mayhap she did not need to know about the blood, Garr entertained, but then his mother exclaimed, “The sheet!” and hurried toward the bed. “Come, Josse, we must hang it out.”

Annyn halted, causing the rushes to scatter. Had she heard right? She looked from the women as they descended upon the bed, to Garr. “They must do what?”

He crossed to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “As is custom, the morning-after sheet is hung out.”

Her face coloring deeper, she looked to Isobel and Josse. And cringed at the satisfied murmurs that rose from them as they assessed the sheet. The humiliation! “Never have I heard such.”

Garr sighed. “Had you not been too busy with the things of men, you would have.”

The outrage! “Mayhap I should have stayed with the things of men.”

“I fear my taste only runs to women, Lady Wife.”

There was nothing humorous about it! She glowered as the women pulled the sheet from the mattress. “This is primitive.”

“I quite agree.” Lady Isobel glanced over her shoulder.

Though she afforded only a glimpse of her face, Annyn was struck by the fatigue about her eyes and mouth.

“Unfortunately,” Isobel continued, “’tis necessary, Daughter.”

Daughter, again. The pleasing sound eased some of Annyn’s embarrassment. “Where is the sheet to be hung?”

“Methinks the center window is best.” Isobel held one end of the sheet and Josse the other as the two crossed the solar. The cool morning air rushed in with the opening of the shutters.

“For all to see?” Annyn choked.

“Most especially Henry,” Garr said, “and Lavonne if he accompanies the duke.” He leaned near and lowered his voice. “Regardless of whether or not our marriage is deemed clandestine, Annyn Wulfrith, that sheet proves it is a marriage. It says to all that you belong to me. And no man—no king—can take you from me.”

His intensity stole her breath. Though what he said she knew to be true, it did not preclude excommunication. It tore at her that he, a man of such reverence, would risk it for her. And in that