Her Bridegroom Bought and Paid For by Alice Coldbreath

Author:Alice Coldbreath [Coldbreath, Alice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-15T18:30:00+00:00

16

When Aimee woke the next morn, Lord Kentigern was gone and so was all trace of her shredded gown. She checked under the bed and behind the bed curtains, but there was no sign of it. With dawning embarrassment, Aimee hoped that Golda had not come across it and taken it for the rag bag or even worse, for mending. It was quite beyond repair, she was sure, but the thought of anyone else laying hands on it was mortifying, especially when she thought about the places the garment had – well – been.

When her maid brought her hot water half an hour later, no mention was made of the ill-treated garment, and Aimee decided against enquiring after it. Instead, she washed thoroughly and dressed in a sage green gown. She arranged her dark hair with great care, adding a small veil with pretty edging to cover the pinned braids.

In her mind was the idea that if she took the time over her appearance now, then she could appear below looking a picture of decorum and dignity in direct contrast with how she had behaved the previous day. Her cheeks flamed hot when she thought of how she had conducted herself, and she clapped her hands to them, gazing unseeingly into her looking glass. For a moment, when her husband had flung back the bedchamber door revealing the remains of that wretched gown, she had thought she would die of mortification on the spot.

She let her hands drop from her face and frowned. Certainly, Lord Kentigern had not reacted to her act of passionate vandalism at all how she had expected. She relived the moment now in her mind’s eye and marveled at the strange culmination to her day. She had been publicly disgraced, been shown great royal favor, had committed an act of blatant destruction, and been ravished by her own husband all in the space of one day! In the aftermath of their spent passion, he had even given her an explanation of sorts.

No sooner had he freed her from the shredded gown, then he had rolled onto his back and drawn her down on top of him. Aimee had needed no prompting to run her hands over his magnificent chest, and he had lain passive while she had run her palms all over the mighty muscles in his upper arms and shoulders.

“I should probably explain about the tourney crown,” he had said at last in a voice that cracked slightly.

Aimee made no reply, just waited. She was too sated and exhausted to make any gesture of resistance by this point, so she remained slumped over his chest as he gave his justification.

“I always give it where it will cause the most strife,” he had admitted bluntly.

She had lifted her head at that. “What do you mean?” she had croaked.

He had looked irritated at having to spell it out, perhaps even guilty. “Such as awarding it to my competitor’s spouse.”

She regarded him doubtfully. “You mean … like a poisoned chalice?”

“I’m not the only one that does it,” he had said defensively.

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