Page 30 of An Ill-Made Match

“Brides?” she sounded startled again. “More than half these people will be completely unaware of our marriage!”

He cocked an eye at her. “I wore your badge in the field,” he said reminded her. “I’ve never worn a lady’s favor before.”

Eden’s expression wavered. “Oh!”

“They may not realize we are wed, but all will know you’re my sweetheart.”

Her step faltered. “Cuthbert said these rural tournaments are not overmuch attended by wives,” she blurted.

“True enough,” he agreed, wondering at her blush.

“Well, I hope no-one thinks-”

“What?” he asked curiously, as she plunked down onto the bench.

“That I’m not respectable!” she huffed, straightening her veil.

He longed to point out that they’d woken up in bed together three days previously, but he already knew Eden was ill-used to teasing and likely to react poorly. Managing to hold his tongue, he summoned an attendant over with some drinks.

“Will you have ale or wine?”

“Watered wine, if you please.”

After selecting their drinks, he sat beside her, clearing his throat. “Has anyone explained the Challenge to Arms to you?”

“Yes,” she said, straightening up. “Is that the tree Gunnilde spoke of?” she asked raising a hand to shield her eyes against the sun.

Roland looked to the large oak. Shields were hanging from the low hanging branches. “Aye, that’s the one.”

“Do you recognize any of the coats of arms?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.

He glanced back. “The white shield with the black tree is the strongest competitor today,” he said after a moment’s appraisal. “Sir Jeoffrey de Crecy.”

“If he’s so good, why would he not have joined the melee or the joust tomorrow?” asked Eden.

“He may have arrived too late today to make the melee. And the joust is likely over-subscribed already.”

“I see.”

With irritation Roland noticed approaching figures. Would they not be given a moment’s peace together?

Eden clicked her tongue with annoyance. “’Tis Sir Christopher with his wife Lady Muriel.”

The fact Eden was not happy at the interruption either, pleased him inordinately. He turned a heavy frown on the interlopers.

“Sir Roland,” the newcomer hailed him enthusiastically. “Well met!” Roland nodded warily. Now that he saw the fellow, he did vaguely recognize seeing him about court. “I believe congratulations are in order,” Lelland carried on genially. “I understand you have lately joined our newly-wed ranks. May I introduce you to my bride, Lady Muriel.” He turned to the insipid looking woman at his side. Roland flickered uninterested eyes over her. Muriel Lelland, he noticed, was eyeing Eden nervously. Now what had happened there?

“I do hope you will forgive me for the misunderstanding earlier,” she twittered obsequiously. “I – er – I did not realize that you were a fellow courtier of my husband’s.”

Eden regarded her stonily, her blue eyes suddenly as hard as flint. “I see,” she said briefly, and turned back to regarding the shield covered tree. It was amazing how haughty her features could turn, in the mere blink of an eye. Roland was dimly aware he should not find it as entertaining as he did.

Sir Christopher hovered uneasily, his wife looking anguished.

Roland found himself clearing his throat. “You – er – staying for the Challenge to Arms?” he asked. Sir Christopher cast him a grateful look. “Indeed!” he agreed. “Indeed, we are. My wife knows a couple of the local entrants, is that not so, my dear?”

“Er yes,” said Muriel who was still regarding Eden with unhappy eyes. “No-one of consequence, you understand. Not court folk.”

Eden looked up at this and pursed her lips. “Is that your criteria for determining who of your company are important and who are not, Lady Muriel?” she asked caustically.