downstairs.
As she stepped outside her door, however, she realized that it would be unwise to go down unattended. She would have to wait for Gareth. After a few minutes in the narrow hallway, however, listening for some sound to indicate he was in his room, she wondered whether he had gone down without her. She would have to knock, blast it, and look as if she needed him. She rapped on the door sharply, and was relieved to hear his voice. Her relief turned to dismay when he opened the door and she could see that he was not as far along in his preparations as she expected. His curls were still wet and he had obviously just pulled on a clean shirt to open the door. It was not buttoned and she had the opportunity to notice that he had a flat belly and the same curls on his chest that covered his head. His breeches were partially unbuttoned and she found her eyes following the line of hair on his belly as it tapered down to… Arden snapped her eyes up to his face and caught his look of amusement as though he could read the direction of her thoughts as well as her eyes.
“Why, it is my lady wife,” he exclaimed with exaggerated welcome. “I am surprised and pleased to see you are not one of those women who take forever to dress. Would you like to come in while I finish dressing?”
“Of course not!” snapped Arden. “I will return to my room, and if you will just let me know when you are ready, I will go down with you.”
“I will be with you shortly,” replied Gareth, closing the door and leaving her standing there. She went back to sit on her bed, and a minute or two later she heard his knock on her door.
“You see, I can be as prompt as you, my dear. Come, take my arm. I am as hungry as a bear, and you must be too, after all those hours in the carriage.”
Arden refused his arm and walked down the corridor and stairs ahead of him, hoping to show him that he might hold the name of husband, but he could not hold her in any way. Gareth shook his head behind her as he watched her holding her head up, as though it still held her coronet of braids. Unfortunately, my dear, he thought, that simple ribbon around your loose hair quite ruins that queenly effect. From the rear, you look like you must have as a young girl. He was surprised at the strength of his sudden longing to touch her. He wanted to come up behind her, slip his arm around her waist and feel her respond to him in the way real newlyweds might do. Instead, he merely slipped his arm through hers as the landlady showed them into a cozy parlor, where a small table had been set next to the fire.
Arden was bound and determined not to relax her guard, even under the influence of the bustling landlady who called her “dearie” and complimented her again on “her man.” She wanted to scream out: “He is not my man and I am not looking forward to a short evening and a long night.” But again, she would not give Gareth the satisfaction, and the landlady, although irritating, was innocent of offense, so Arden remained silent. And when their hostess began to look puzzled and a bit hurt at Arden’s lack of response, Gareth pulled her aside and said in a stage whisper, “You must forgive my bride. She is able to hear as well as you or me, but has been mute from childhood.” The landlady looked at Arden with great pity, shook Gareth’s hand with sympathy and then left them to themselves.
“How dare you, sir?” spluttered Arden.
“Well, I had to give some explanation for your silence,” said Gareth in that amused tone that made Arden want to slap him. He was imperturbable. She could find no way to wound him, because all she could summon in his presence was a raw and clumsy anger. Her wit deserted her whenever he provoked her.
“Now there is no need to keep up appearances,” he continued. “We can eat in peace, retire early and everyone will be satisfied.” Well, perhaps not everyone, he thought. He wanted a real wedding night, he was surprised to
As she stepped outside her door, however, she realized that it would be unwise to go down unattended. She would have to wait for Gareth. After a few minutes in the narrow hallway, however, listening for some sound to indicate he was in his room, she wondered whether he had gone down without her. She would have to knock, blast it, and look as if she needed him. She rapped on the door sharply, and was relieved to hear his voice. Her relief turned to dismay when he opened the door and she could see that he was not as far along in his preparations as she expected. His curls were still wet and he had obviously just pulled on a clean shirt to open the door. It was not buttoned and she had the opportunity to notice that he had a flat belly and the same curls on his chest that covered his head. His breeches were partially unbuttoned and she found her eyes following the line of hair on his belly as it tapered down to… Arden snapped her eyes up to his face and caught his look of amusement as though he could read the direction of her thoughts as well as her eyes.
“Why, it is my lady wife,” he exclaimed with exaggerated welcome. “I am surprised and pleased to see you are not one of those women who take forever to dress. Would you like to come in while I finish dressing?”
“Of course not!” snapped Arden. “I will return to my room, and if you will just let me know when you are ready, I will go down with you.”
“I will be with you shortly,” replied Gareth, closing the door and leaving her standing there. She went back to sit on her bed, and a minute or two later she heard his knock on her door.
“You see, I can be as prompt as you, my dear. Come, take my arm. I am as hungry as a bear, and you must be too, after all those hours in the carriage.”
Arden refused his arm and walked down the corridor and stairs ahead of him, hoping to show him that he might hold the name of husband, but he could not hold her in any way. Gareth shook his head behind her as he watched her holding her head up, as though it still held her coronet of braids. Unfortunately, my dear, he thought, that simple ribbon around your loose hair quite ruins that queenly effect. From the rear, you look like you must have as a young girl. He was surprised at the strength of his sudden longing to touch her. He wanted to come up behind her, slip his arm around her waist and feel her respond to him in the way real newlyweds might do. Instead, he merely slipped his arm through hers as the landlady showed them into a cozy parlor, where a small table had been set next to the fire.
Arden was bound and determined not to relax her guard, even under the influence of the bustling landlady who called her “dearie” and complimented her again on “her man.” She wanted to scream out: “He is not my man and I am not looking forward to a short evening and a long night.” But again, she would not give Gareth the satisfaction, and the landlady, although irritating, was innocent of offense, so Arden remained silent. And when their hostess began to look puzzled and a bit hurt at Arden’s lack of response, Gareth pulled her aside and said in a stage whisper, “You must forgive my bride. She is able to hear as well as you or me, but has been mute from childhood.” The landlady looked at Arden with great pity, shook Gareth’s hand with sympathy and then left them to themselves.
“How dare you, sir?” spluttered Arden.
“Well, I had to give some explanation for your silence,” said Gareth in that amused tone that made Arden want to slap him. He was imperturbable. She could find no way to wound him, because all she could summon in his presence was a raw and clumsy anger. Her wit deserted her whenever he provoked her.
“Now there is no need to keep up appearances,” he continued. “We can eat in peace, retire early and everyone will be satisfied.” Well, perhaps not everyone, he thought. He wanted a real wedding night, he was surprised to
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