Page 22 of An Ill-Made Match

“A sleeve?” Eden repeated. “I only own two in the world and I am hardly likely to give one of them to your safe-keeping! I’d be walking around with one cold arm for days!”

He rolled his eyes in exasperation, before startling her by tapping the brooch on the front of her bodice. “Give me this.”

Eden considered arguing. She only owned two good pieces of jewelry. A bracelet of turquoises her grandmother had given her, and this pearl brooch which Queen Armenal had graciously bestowed on her. “Don’t lose it,” she said with a sigh, as she unpinned the brooch and held it out to him. Now in all likelihood, it would probably end up being trampled into a muddy field before the day was out! Instead of taking it from her, he held out his arm for her to pin it to. Eden considered a moment, and then whipped out her kerchief, wrapped it around his arm and then used the brooch to secure it in place. She was just surveying her handiwork, when his finger under her chin tipped her head up so he could meet her gaze. “Now,” he said in a murmured undertone. “Get on your tiptoes and give me a good luck kiss that our audience will appreciate.”

Eden forced herself not to stiffen, though it wasn’t easy. Instead she lifted slowly up onto her toes and puckered her lips in anticipation. Roland looked down at her a moment, with an unreadable expression. Just when she was considering asking what he was waiting for, he leaned down and took her lips in a strangely tender and lingering kiss, his hands resting lightly on her hips. When he drew back, she swayed a moment, trying to catch her breath. His grip on her tightened and he didn’t release her until she was steady on her feet once more. Eden braced herself, waiting for him to make some comment, or tease her for her reaction, but he did neither. Simply took hold of her elbow and steered her back toward their hosts.

“I know I can trust you to keep a watchful eye on her,” he said, and took his leave of them.

Eden could only hope her face was not as red as it felt.

“I’ll take Lady Vawdrey along to the seated area, father,” said Gunnilde Payne eagerly. She was an amiable looking girl of about eighteen, with tow-colored hair and rather large teeth. Eden let herself be led away, grateful to escape Lady Payne’s avid stare.

“What a piece of luck for us that Sir Roland brought you along to our tourney,” she enthused. “So far nothing interesting has happened except for Lord Kentigern breaking Sir Renlowe’s nose in the preliminary joust.”

“Oh dear,” murmured Eden, who’d never heard of Sir Renlowe. “Poor fellow.”

“And I didn’t even see that,” admitted Gunnilde, sounding aggrieved. “For my stepmother sent me on an errand to fetch her second-best veil. She fancied the sun was catching the back of her neck in her new steeple-hennin headdress.” Eden clicked her tongue sympathetically, though in truth she could not imagine the girl had missed much, by being spared such a spectacle. “They do say it spurted blood like a fountain,” Gunnilde confided in a rush of ghoulish fascination. Belatedly she noticed Eden’s disapproving expression. “I hope you do not find me unduly bloodthirsty, Lady Vawdrey. You see, I have heard it said that a knight has not proved his mettle until he’s suffered a battle scar or two,” she added hastily.

“I see,” said Eden politely. “I was not aware of that fact.” Seeing Gunnilde’s eyes widen, she added, “As a rule, I do not follow the tournaments.”

“Oh,” said Gunnilde, with dawning understanding. “Oh! So, you’ve come to our little tourney to learn the rudiments?” she asked, looking pleased. “To ensure you do not embarrass yourself at one of the royal events? Never fear, Lady Vawdrey,” she said, seizing Eden’s hand and patting it reassuringly. “I can help you with that!”

The girl looked so happy to be of service, that Eden didn’t have the heart to tell her she didn’t care a rush about tournaments. “That is very kind of you,” she answered instead and was repaid with a radiant smile.

“Will this spot do, do you think?” Gunnilde asked, gesturing to a section right in the middle of the length of benching and in the front row.

“I’m sure it will do very well, thank you.” They sat down next to one another. “How close will the knights be to us?” asked Eden with trepidation as she eyed the wooden barriers. At Caer-Lyoness the spectators had been on raised platform seating that seemed well away from the violence. Here it seemed a lot closer.

“Oh, you needn’t worry on that score, Lady Vawdrey,” Gunnilde assured her. “You’ll be able to see the whites of their eyes from here.”

That was what she was afraid of! “Call me Eden,” she responded, after a moment’s pause.

Gunnilde flushed. “Thank you,” she said looking unspeakably flattered. “And I would be very honored if you would call me by my given name also.”

Eden inclined her head to show she was agreeable. “Do you think it might be advisable to move to the second row, Gunnilde?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Her new friend looked shocked. “Oh no! We couldn’t do that, Enid!”

“Eden,” she corrected her, but Gunnilde had her hands clasped before her as if in prayer, and a faraway look in her eye.

“I’m sure your good knight and true will be looking for you. And when he sees you here, he will be inspired to great feats of valor and chivalry!”

By knocking someone off their horse with a big stick? It hardly seemed to make any sense to Eden, but she forced a smile and nodded her head nonetheless.

“It was just wonderful to see how highly he regards you,” said Gunnilde shyly. “I would love to have someone view me one day with such a gaze.”

Eden struggled to keep her face blank at these startling words. She wondered if Gunnilde would think Roland so respectful if she’d heard him bluntly tell her to use the chamber pot that morning. “Are you betrothed, Gunnilde?” she asked instead politely.

Gunnilde blushed and shook her head. “No, for Father has had other things on his mind of late with his own re-marriage. I had hoped… but alas, it was not meant to be.” She huffed out a sigh and Eden deduced she had lost her heart to someone along the way. It was not that surprising when you considered how fanciful the girl was.

“Indeed?” asked Eden encouragingly, leaving an inviting pause for confidences.

Sure enough, Gunnilde plucked at her skirts a moment, before taking a deep breath. “Mother always said I was informally matched with our neighbor Sir Giles Conway’s eldest son, Arthur. The Conways should be attending today’s festivities, so you may even meet him later on.” Gunnilde patted her hair distractedly.

“But no mention has been made of a contract since you have come of age?” asked Eden with a small frown. “How old is Arthur Conway?”

“Two and twenty, so high time he took a wife,” Gunnilde supplied readily. “But their family came into some money unexpectedly and they have expectations now at court, and so…” She winced. “Stepmother says I am no longer sufficiently grand enough for the Conways.”