Page 39 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

He gave her a smile. A predator’s smile. He was tired of keeping her at arm’s length. After all, she should be getting accustomed to him by now. She rose from her seat and came around the table with surprising grace.

“I didn’t see any tavern wenches today,” she admitted with a nervous laugh. Hitching up her skirts, she perched herself on his knee. “Is this what they do?”

He reached out and dragged her more firmly into his lap. “Amongst other things,” he said, his voice deep and rough with promise. He ran his hand across her lower back. “Loose your veil, Linnet.”

He took another long swig of ale as she unpinned the white, linen square covering her red-gold hair. When she placed it on the table, he ran a hand over her long, silky braid. “Take down your hair. I want to see it loose over your shoulders.”

He had forgotten Oswald. His muscles relaxed as he felt his energy flow into a different kind of tension. A sweeter kind. Lust. A servant had brought Linnet’s plate and cup around to her, and she had picked up a piece of her coarse-grained bread and was crumbling it distractedly into her bowl of vegetable soup. He picked up her cup of sweet apple wine and held it to her lips.

“Drink,” he said. Her hands were now occupied with loosening her hair so she obediently drank deeply from the cup before he set it down. “That’s better,” he said approvingly as her hair spilled down. “I finished meeting your tenants today, Wife.”

“Our tenants,” she corrected him swiftly.

He smirked at this and inclined his head. “As you say.”

She took a deep breath, “Do they think I’m something of a bitch?” she asked, promptly flooring him.

Oswald gasped, but Mason ignored him. “What did you say?” he repeated, tipping his head to one side. He’d surely misheard her.

“Is that not how it is said?” she said uncertainly.

He glanced down at his half-emptied tankard. How many had he had?

“I heard someone say that in the tavern today,” she confided.

“What?” His words exploded out angrily.

“Not about me,” she hastened to assure him. “About my aunt actually. But I thought they might have had cause.”

He lapsed back into astonished silence.

“But it could have been a lot worse,” She added. “Cuthbert said last time he was there, some woman had her chests out. I didn’t see anything really shocking like that.”

She sounded, he thought, a little wistful. His eyes dropped to Linnet’s own rapidly heaving breasts. They were sweet rather than impressive. He had no idea why he was so entranced with them. Absently he raised his hands to palm them over her dress. Her back was to Oswald so his prim brother couldn’t see anything. Linnet’s soft gasp went straight to his groin.

“Mason,” she whispered, and suddenly his lust went from a smolder to a roaring blaze.

“Linnet,” he started, but the door had flung open behind him.

“Baron Vawdrey!” announced a servant loudly.

“Father!” exclaimed Oswald behind them.

There was a clatter, and Mason guessed his brother had jumped to his feet. Sliding his hands down to Linnet’s waist he turned in his chair to see his travel-worn sire come striding through the doors to the great hall. Though a great dark beard covered half his face, Mason could tell his expression was grim.

“So here ye are, making merry with your doxy,” roared his father. “After snatching the bread from your own brother’s mouth, ye ungrateful bastard!”

Mason’s mouth opened, but before he could so much as get a word out, Linnet had hopped from his lap and taken a step towards the intruder.

“How do you do,” she said clearly. “You must be my father-in-law.” She dropped a graceful curtsy. “I am Linnet Vawdrey.”

“Father, this is Mason’s wife,” said Oswald hurriedly as Mason continued to loll in his chair, watching his father’s face turn puce as his jaw dropped in astonishment.

“This . . . is her?” blurted Lord Vawdrey, huffing and puffing and tugging on his beard.

“Linnet, this is Baron Vawdrey, our father,” said Oswald at pains to carry out conventional introductions.

Mason snorted, his gaze returning to Linnet, who was eyeing his father with open curiosity.