Page 18 of An Ill-Made Match

“Today’s Wednesday,” said Cuthbert. “And the pair of you took to your bedchamber on Monday e’en.”

Eden’s eyes widened in astonishment. She had been unwell, and exhausted from grief and guilt which might account for her deep sleep, but all Roland Vawdrey had by way of excuse was a sore head from too much wine.

“Well,” Roland said after a moment’s pause. “I’d better settle the bill.”

“Nay, good sir, for his lordship paid that. Your kinsman. The one who spoke so fair,” beamed the landlady.

“Oswald,” said Roland hollowly. “But surely he only paid for the one night?”

She shook her head so hard her chubby cheeks wobbled. “No indeed,” she replied. “He said as you’d be with us at least two nights, before you’d be ready to leave.”

“Did he, by gods?” He turned to Cuthbert. “You have all my armor still? My brothers did not take it with them to Caer-Lyoness?”

Cuthbert shook his head. “It’s all here.” He looked from one of them to the other. “Are we bound for Tranton Vale?”

Roland looked at her. Eden shrugged helplessly. “Aye,” he said. “We are.”

**

When Roland had said that Tranton Vale was in the locality, it was still a good four hours hence. Oswald had kindly purchased her a horse from the inn, so she now had her own steed, a rather nice sandy colored mare she had promptly named Christobel. They rested the horses at the mid-way point and Eden sat on a felled tree trunk, worrying about Lenora and if her cousin despised her now and blamed her for stealing her bridegroom. I need to marry well and fast, Lenora had said. Who would she wed now that Eden had stolen her husband of choice? So deep in thought was she, that she almost jumped when Roland sat down beside her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he murmured.

Eden doubted he’d care for them. She glanced over at where Cuthbert was tending the horses. “When we reach your friend, the host’s, place…” she started hesitantly.

“Sir Aubron Payne’s,” he supplied.

“I do not think I’ve ever met him.”

He winced, “He’s not really what you’d call a courtier.”

“I see.” She mulled this over, guessing the tournament crowd were not going to be her usual kind of people. The only tourneys she had attended had been very few and far between, and they had always been royal tournaments either held at the winter or summer court.

“What were you going to say?” Roland prompted her. His eyes looked a little wary.

“How are we going to approach this?” Eden asked him forthrightly. “I mean, are we going to admit that we were forced to marry or…?” her words trailed off.

“We don’t have to say that,” Roland said after a heavy pause.

“What other reason would we have?” she asked, turning to him doubtfully.

“We could say that you were madly in love with me,” answered Roland with an audacity that took her breath away.

Eden nearly choked on her own tongue. “No-one would believe that for an instant!” she replied more shrilly than she’d intended.

“We could say you came to me, confessed your ardor, and I took pity on you.”

Eden felt her color ebb away. “I see.” She said stiffly.

Roland Vawdrey lolled back on the log, stretching his long legs before him. “Or maybe I could say I wanted another taste of that pert mouth of yours.”

Eden sat up even straighter, staring fixedly ahead of her. “If you do not mean to take this seriously, then I see no point in continuing this conversation.”

“Everyone could tell I enjoyed your kiss on Solstice Eve,” he said calmly.

Eden’s color flowed back. “You kissed me,” she pointed out, wishing she didn’t sound quite so petty.

“Maybe we should try it again.”