The Rose at Twilight by Amanda Scott

Author:Amanda Scott [Scott, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781480415348
Published: 2013-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

14

ALYS LISTENED INTENTLY TILL the last noises faded from the anteroom. Not until the thud of a door closing in the distance put an end to all sound but that of the crackling fire did she dare to peep round the bed curtains at her husband.

He stood with his back to the hearth, surveying the room, and she wondered what he was thinking. Since he had married her by royal command for the purpose of controlling her estate, she could not believe he had any strong feelings beyond, perhaps, thinking her a nuisance. She hoped he would be kind to her, and she wished she could discern his thoughts from his expression.

He moved at last toward the dressing table, stepping around the tub, pulling off his hat with one hand while he removed the heavy gold-link chain he wore with the other. Large as the room was after Alys’s small, stark chamber, he seemed to fill it as she, the splendid furniture, and five other women had not.

She swallowed, gripping the covers closer than ever, her knuckles aching, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it.

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. “Art still awake, madam wife? Do not fall asleep just yet. ’Twould be no good way to begin our marriage.”

She swallowed again, managed to mutter, “No, sir,” and continued to watch him through wide, wary eyes. She had not paid particular heed earlier to his attire, for it was much like that of the other men, but now she was fascinated by every thread.

He shrugged off his black velvet gown and laid it with his hat on a coffer near the wardrobe, then straightened, his hands going to the gold fastenings of his satin doublet. She watched silently while he undid them, one by one, with deft twists of his fingers, and removed his doublet to set it aside on the stool. His shirt was snow-white and of the finest linen, its sleeves softly draped, its body molding his broad chest and shoulders. Standing in only his hose and shirt, his back view reflected in the glass behind him, he was magnificent.

He smiled at her, and her heart leapt, stopping her breath and setting her every nerve atingle. “I brought no servant with me,” he said. “Will you make me continue my disrobing unaided?”

She stared at him, dismayed. “I … I am un—unclothed, sir,” she stammered.

“I had not believed otherwise, but ’tis a natural state, is it not? And I am now your husband.”

She had promised to obey him. In fact, as she recalled the words, she had promised to be meek and obedient in bed and at board. And here she was in bed, but meekly obedient was the last thing she wanted to be. Were it possible to vanish from his sight, to pull the covers over her head one moment and put them down the next to find herself safely back at Middleham with Anne of Gloucester, she would not hesitate for an instant.

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