Page 3 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“What the devil do you mean by this, Sir?” cried Sir Jevons, looking appalled. “Unhand my niece at once!”

Linnet held her breath, hardly daring to hope.

“Your niece and I have come to an agreement,” answered Mason Vawdrey in measured, cold tones. He looked down into her eyes and gave her a slight smirk. “I’ll be taking the bridegroom’s place.”

Oswald Vawdrey gasped louder than her uncle. “Mason, what the hell—? You can’t just—”

“We already did,” shrugged Mason. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Linnet blinked up at him before turning to face her uncle. “Yes, that is so,” she nodded. “Mason Vawdrey and I are to be married today.” Her voice only trembled slightly, she was glad to hear. She could feel his thumb rub in a slow, comforting manner at the top of her hip. It made her feel strangely weak. She glanced at his kinsman, and found him staring at her feet in horror. She looked down at her discarded veil. The way he was looking at it was almost like he thought it was her undergarments. Wait a minute . . . she glanced at her uncle who looked like he was having an apoplectic attack.

“I forbid this! Forbid it!” He wheezed, his face turning purple.

“You’re too late for that, Jevons.” Answered Mason, running a suggestive hand slowly up and down her hip. “You’d best send for the priest and make it legal.”

Then it dawned on her, that was what they thought! She felt herself blush. They thought he had simply walked in, tossed her skirts up, and had his way with her! What manner of man did they think he was? Correction, what manner of man did they think her betrothed was? A tiny trickle of panic ran down her spine. Ah well, too late now. She had propositioned him! “F-father Stephens should be arriving any minute,” she stammered in a low voice meant only for her intended. Her uncle was yelling and ranting and sending poor Cuthbert for his wife, her aunt. She shuddered at the thought of her aunt’s squawking and screaming being added to the fray. His brother hovered unhappily on the edge of her vision, Mason Vawdrey however, seemed unconcerned.

“Is the ceremony to be held up here?” he asked, focusing purely on her as everything around them was plunged into chaos.

Her throat went dry so she merely nodded, gazing up at him. “Yes. There is a castle chapel, but because of my health they gained permission to hold the ceremony here. I’m sorry it’s so dark,” she told him. “You see, it’s for my health.”

He nodded briefly. “Jevons,” he said sharply without taking his eyes from her face. “If you don’t stop that caterwauling I will send you from the room.” Her uncle gasped sharply before his jaw snapped shut. Then Mason took her hand and led her over to the fire. “Oswald, a word.” His brother appeared by their side as Mason started chafing her cold hands lightly between his. “You’ll stand as my groomsman,” he told, rather than asked, him.

“Of course, Brother,” Oswald seemed slightly bewildered. Linnet took a good look at her prospective brother in law. He seemed shocked and couldn’t quite meet her gaze. Obviously he was more of a stickler for decorum than Mason, who seemed to be taking his impending marriage entirely in his stride. She watched, fascinated, as Mason’s large tanned hands entirely engulfed hers.

“Still cold?” he asked her, frowning. She shook her head. She wasn’t trembling from the cold. It was all starting to sink in now and Linnet’s heart was beating frantically. She felt heat rise up her neck to her face and it was as much as she could do to remain standing on her own two feet. When she swayed, his hand shot out and gripped her arm like a vise until she was steady. Then he released her again and turned back to his brother. They spoke of court and delaying their return. She found it hard to focus on the actual words. She couldn’t believe she had propositioned such a terrifying man and now they were to be married! Unsure what to do, she dared to glance at Cuthbert who was staring at her husband-to-be in open-mouthed admiration. Then her gaze travelled to her uncle who was glaring in her direction with an expression of mute fury. Linnet’s heart sank as she heard female voices on the stair and realized her aunt and her troop of ladies in waiting were on their way up. “I’m sorry about all this,” she whispered to Mason, touching her hand to his sleeve. “They all make rather a fuss I’m afraid.”

“They can try,” he answered grimly and turned his hard gaze to the entrance where the ladies were flooding in.

“My goodness child!” screeched her aunt. “Where is your headdress?”

She opened her mouth to reply but Mason forestalled her.

“What business is it of yours, Madam?” he asked brusquely. “I dislike it and she’ll not wear it again in my presence!”

Her aunt stared at him speechlessly. “But her hair,” she pointed out. “That awful degenerate shade!”

Linnet flinched but Mason didn’t miss a beat.

“Her hair?” he snorted. “It little signifies.”

There was an audible gasp from her aunt’s ladies and Linnet’s eyes nearly popped out. He surely lied, but she vowed from that moment to be the very best wife that Mason Vawdrey could ever have taken. Let him never regret his choice, she wished fervently, tears pricking her eyes. She would never, never forget his generosity of spirit and noble sacrifice on her behalf!

III

She was a poor little dab of a female, thought Mason as he reluctantly drew the old cracked signet off his little finger and then pushed it onto hers. Even on her middle finger it was loose. She needed more meat on her bones. He made a silent note to buy her a ring more suited for purpose. This was one he had had from boyhood. It was proof of his father’s acceptance of his bastard and the only ring he wore. The seal depicted the Vawdrey panther, though it was faded and cracked through. Linnet passed a finger over it reverently as if it were a ruby and then smiled at him. He frowned slightly and turned back to the priest who was bidding them to be fruitful and multiply. His gaze returned to Linnet—his wife. He leant forward and placed a chaste kiss on her bloodless lips. It was done. He offered her his arm and she clung to it as if her life depended on it. Her uncle and his harridan wife were fit to spit. Mason’s lip curled with contempt. Well, he knew what to do about them. When they drew level he turned to address Sir Jevons. “Get out,” he snarled.

“What?” spluttered the older man, his face turning even more purple.

“You have until sunset to get you, your wife, and everything that belongs to you—but only what belongs to you—out of the castle,” he elaborated coolly, ignoring Linnet’s faint gasp from his side.

Lady Jevons let out an indignant squawk. “So this is how it’s to be, is it? Thrown out of our own home . . . ” She turned a face twisted with anger to her niece. “See what you’ve done?” she cried. “You stupid, wicked girl! This is how you repay the tender care we have given you?”

“Don’t bother answering her,” Mason cut across coldly as Linnet opened her mouth to respond. “Keys,” he said, holding out his hand to the red-faced woman. “Hand over the keys to the castle.”

Lady Jevons spluttered. He pointed wordlessly to the large chatelaine at her belt.

“This was my sister’s,” she argued.