The Redeeming by Tamara Leigh

Author:Tamara Leigh [Leigh, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: A Medieval Romance in the Age of Faith series by Tamara Leigh
Publisher: Tamara Leigh
Published: 2013-05-22T12:00:00+00:00

She could not recall ever being so wonderfully warm, though when she realized the cause of it, worry crept in.

But he was still here. Where she lay on her side, she could feel the heat of his body, and since he had not waited on her menses, surely that meant she had gained his trust. Or had she? She bit her lip. The day would tell.

Regardless, her hope had increased ten-fold, for last eve it was her name on Christian’s lips. Hers and no other’s. And even across the dim of night she had felt his eyes upon her. It had been lovely, not at all like—

Hearing her husband draw a deep breath, she opened her eyes to the bare light of dawn and found he did not lie beside her but sat on the mattress edge with his back to her, his face turned up as if he consulted heaven.

She touched his back and felt his muscles tense. “Christian?”

“What happened should not have, Gaenor.”

She dropped her hand from him. “You think I seduced you?”

A long moment passed before he looked over his shoulder. “I do not. But that does not make it less of a mistake. Now…”

Aye, now. Dragging the sheet up over her shoulders, she turned onto her back and set her gaze to the ceiling. “Now if my menses do not come, only I will know for certain that my child is also yours.”

He did not deny it, but said, “I vow, ‘tis not you I am angry with.” He turned and leaned over her. “I should have stopped.”

The only way to avoid looking upon him in his state of undress was to close her eyes, but she did not.

“The answer was an easy one,” he growled. “We had but to wait.”

Her resentment raised its ugly head. “Aye, ‘twould have been far easier to wait than to believe me!”

His lids narrowed and jaw jutted. “How can I when you—?” He snapped his chin around and stilled.

What was he looking at? Something on the bedside table? There was only a cup and her psalter there. Her chest against the wall?

She raised herself onto her elbows. “When I what?”

He looked back at her and, despite the dim, she caught his startle at finding her face so near his. He lowered his gaze to her mouth, then her neck, lingered over her collarbone from which the sheet had slipped, and abruptly sat back. “We can but pray your menses come. And soon.”

Something turned in Gaenor, something she recognized as passed to her by her mother who had held her head high through all manner of adversity, especially that which had been found in marriage. True, it would have been better had last eve not happened, for she would not have their child suffer the lie of illegitimacy, but neither could she pray for her monthly flux.

She lowered to the pillow and turned onto her side to face her husband. “I will not pray that, Christian, lest there is a child growing in me.

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