Song of the Highlands: The Cambels (The Medieval Highlanders) by K.E. Saxon

day, and dressed in one of her linen chemises.
Afterward, she spent a bit of time folding and hanging up their
hastily discarded wedding attire before building the fire higher
and settling next to it with one of Robert’s shirts she’d found on
a peg. It had a small tear in the sleeve and the hem was coming
out. She’d mend it for him.
    As she sewed, her thoughts remained on her
husband. She was still in a state of shock, really. All these
sennights, she’d pined for the man now sleeping peacefully on their
marriage bed, but with no hope of having him.
    Yet, within a matter of days, she’d not only
become his lover, but become his wife as well! Morgana felt
a song rise up in her, so strong, that she thought she’d expire
from the need to release it into the air. She opened her lips and
mouthed the words, straining and struggling to emit even the
softest of sounds. But ‘twas no use. She rubbed the pads of her
fingers o’er her throat to ease the strained vocal chords as she
turned her eye to the man to whom she’d given her vows with only
the nod of her head earlier that day. ‘Twould not be long, she
knew, before he’d grow weary and angry with her for her lack of
speech. What man wouldn’t?
    And then he would find another lover.
    All at once a new horrifying thought flashed
through her mind: What if he sent her away? Sent her back to the
nunnery to molder before she e’er had the chance to make a babe
with him?
    Or worse: What if he sent her back after she gave him an heir? Her heart wrenched at that
thought.
    “Morgana, come to bed.”
    She jumped.
    Robert’s voice was craggy with sleep and he
hadn’t even opened an eye as he’d made the demand, but the fact
that he wanted her near him forced her fears at bay and within
seconds she was beside their bed, discarding her chemise. She
shoved at him in a bid to get him positioned with his head and feet
facing the right direction.
    Tho’ he ne’er opened an eye, ne’er said
another word to her, he must have understood what she wanted from
him, for he crawled and rolled until he was settled with his head
on the pillow at the other side of the bed. She gave a silent
giggle and got in beside him. It surprised her when he immediately
tucked her up against himself, his arm under her bosom and his lips
against her temple.
    Within moments, she was fast asleep.
    * * *
    Morgana awoke to the scraping sound of the
hearthfire being tended. She opened her eyes and turned her head in
that direction. ‘Twas her husband doing the deed. Blinking and
rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she wondered, was it dawn already?
Her gaze tracked to the window. There was still no light coming
through the shutters’ slats.
    Robert lifted his gaze to her. “Get up and
dress. We’re for my holding in a half-hour’s time.” He rose and
went to the washstand. After rinsing the remnants of their
lovemaking from his groin, he quickly dressed and walked toward the
door. When he was nearly through the opening, he turned and said,
“I’ll return in a bit. Be ready.” And then he was off, with not
even a smile to soften his words.
    Morgana leapt to her feet and scurried to
the washstand herself. She was just finishing her ablutions when
the same lady’s maid, Modron, who’d aided her with her injuries
before, scratched on the door before entering. “Your husband sent
me up to put more of this salve on your flesh,” Modron said. She
moved with a rather agile gate for one so aged to stand at
Morgana’s back. Then, with efficiency, she proceeded to do just
that.
    Morgana shrugged. ‘Twas clear the servant
was bound to do Robert’s bidding, whether ‘twas to Morgana’s liking
or nay. Fortunately, Morgana was rather pleased to have a bit more
salve on the tender marks the priest and her uncle had
administered.
    “Your husband has arranged for me to travel
with you back to his holding, to continue as your lady’s maid,” the
older woman said. There was a pause before she continued,