fact that she was still wrapped in a sheet.
“My mother wanted to wake you and put you in something warmer, but I stopped
her. I told her to let you sleep.”
Elizabeau looked down at
herself again, grunted, and shifted to an uneasy sitting position. “I find
myself in this situation all too often when you are around, wrapped in towels
and without my shift.” She looked up at him as he chuckled softly. “What are
you doing here, anyway? And where did you go earlier? I was terrified your
mother was going to ask me about our wedding and I would not have the correct
answer.”
He went to the wine
pitcher, swirling it around to see that there were only dregs left. “I am here
because we are married and married people normally sleep in the same chamber,”
he replied. “As for where I went earlier, I was visiting with my son whom I’ve
not seen in six months.”
“Oh,” she scratched her
scalp, looking around for the familiar satchel that carried her clothes. She
spied it over by the hearth and rose on unsteady legs to retrieve it. “Did you
tell your mother anything more about our wedding? She did not ask me a thing.”
He nodded, watching her
rummage about the bag. “We were married in London ten days ago. We met one
month prior at marketplace near the Tower that is held every Thursday. It is
when the nobles do their shopping so they will not be bothered by the rabble.”
She nodded, memorizing the
lie. Pulling forth the one of the two shifts she owned, she cast Rhys a long
glance.
“Turn around. I’m not
your wife and you cannot watch me dress.”
Dutifully, he turned
about, but not before he muttered under his breath. “Pity.”
“What was that?”
“I said, of course, my
lady.”
She looked at him as if
she did not believe him, but quickly dropped the towel and pulled the shift
over her head. Then she fussed about in the bag.
“Oohhh,” she groaned in
frustration. “I do not have a sleeping shift or anything appropriate to sleep
in. I do not want to wear one of my dresses.”
He crossed his enormous
arms, listening to her shuffle around behind him. “Sleep in the shift tonight.
Tomorrow I shall go into Llandogo and purchase something for you to sleep in.”
“Can’t I go?”
“No. We cannot take the
chance that you will be sighted.”
She frowned. “You stand
out more than I do. You’re a gigantic mountain of a man with black hair and
blue eyes that glow. You could not blend in to a crowd if you tried.”
He snorted. “Be that as
it may, you cannot go. And arguing with me isn’t going to magically cause me to
change my mind.” He turned around to look at her as she stood in her shift
beside her satchel. “Now, get back into bed and go to sleep. I am exhausted as
well and would like to catch a bit of sleep before the sun rises.”
Her lips stuck out in a
pout. “But this is my good shift. And it’s not nearly warm enough.”
“Get in bed.”
It was not a request.
Elizabeau’s eyebrows rose and she glared at him for a few long moments, hoping
to scowl him into submission. But the brilliant blue eyes remained strong
against her. With a heavy sigh, she threw the surcoat she was holding back
into the satchel and grumbled all the way back over to the bed. It was a small
bed with a heavy coverlet and she tossed it back, revealing the soft bed linens
underneath. The moment she climbed in, she howled.
“’Tis freezing!” she
gasped, her teeth chattering. “The bed linens are like ice!”
With a heavy sigh of his
own, Rhys gave her a shove and she fell down into the covers. As she squealed
in protest, he pulled the heavy coverlet over her, tucked it in tightly enough
to strangle, and threw himself down beside her. When Elizabeau realized what he
was doing, her mouth flew open with outrage and Rhys had a fight on his hands.
“What do you think you
are doing?” she demanded.
He shoved her down again
when she tried to get up, being rewarded with an elbow to his gut
“My mother wanted to wake you and put you in something warmer, but I stopped
her. I told her to let you sleep.”
Elizabeau looked down at
herself again, grunted, and shifted to an uneasy sitting position. “I find
myself in this situation all too often when you are around, wrapped in towels
and without my shift.” She looked up at him as he chuckled softly. “What are
you doing here, anyway? And where did you go earlier? I was terrified your
mother was going to ask me about our wedding and I would not have the correct
answer.”
He went to the wine
pitcher, swirling it around to see that there were only dregs left. “I am here
because we are married and married people normally sleep in the same chamber,”
he replied. “As for where I went earlier, I was visiting with my son whom I’ve
not seen in six months.”
“Oh,” she scratched her
scalp, looking around for the familiar satchel that carried her clothes. She
spied it over by the hearth and rose on unsteady legs to retrieve it. “Did you
tell your mother anything more about our wedding? She did not ask me a thing.”
He nodded, watching her
rummage about the bag. “We were married in London ten days ago. We met one
month prior at marketplace near the Tower that is held every Thursday. It is
when the nobles do their shopping so they will not be bothered by the rabble.”
She nodded, memorizing the
lie. Pulling forth the one of the two shifts she owned, she cast Rhys a long
glance.
“Turn around. I’m not
your wife and you cannot watch me dress.”
Dutifully, he turned
about, but not before he muttered under his breath. “Pity.”
“What was that?”
“I said, of course, my
lady.”
She looked at him as if
she did not believe him, but quickly dropped the towel and pulled the shift
over her head. Then she fussed about in the bag.
“Oohhh,” she groaned in
frustration. “I do not have a sleeping shift or anything appropriate to sleep
in. I do not want to wear one of my dresses.”
He crossed his enormous
arms, listening to her shuffle around behind him. “Sleep in the shift tonight.
Tomorrow I shall go into Llandogo and purchase something for you to sleep in.”
“Can’t I go?”
“No. We cannot take the
chance that you will be sighted.”
She frowned. “You stand
out more than I do. You’re a gigantic mountain of a man with black hair and
blue eyes that glow. You could not blend in to a crowd if you tried.”
He snorted. “Be that as
it may, you cannot go. And arguing with me isn’t going to magically cause me to
change my mind.” He turned around to look at her as she stood in her shift
beside her satchel. “Now, get back into bed and go to sleep. I am exhausted as
well and would like to catch a bit of sleep before the sun rises.”
Her lips stuck out in a
pout. “But this is my good shift. And it’s not nearly warm enough.”
“Get in bed.”
It was not a request.
Elizabeau’s eyebrows rose and she glared at him for a few long moments, hoping
to scowl him into submission. But the brilliant blue eyes remained strong
against her. With a heavy sigh, she threw the surcoat she was holding back
into the satchel and grumbled all the way back over to the bed. It was a small
bed with a heavy coverlet and she tossed it back, revealing the soft bed linens
underneath. The moment she climbed in, she howled.
“’Tis freezing!” she
gasped, her teeth chattering. “The bed linens are like ice!”
With a heavy sigh of his
own, Rhys gave her a shove and she fell down into the covers. As she squealed
in protest, he pulled the heavy coverlet over her, tucked it in tightly enough
to strangle, and threw himself down beside her. When Elizabeau realized what he
was doing, her mouth flew open with outrage and Rhys had a fight on his hands.
“What do you think you
are doing?” she demanded.
He shoved her down again
when she tried to get up, being rewarded with an elbow to his gut
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