Blaze Wyndham (36 page)

“I cannot eat,” moaned Bliss.

“Indeed you can, and you must for the child’s sake.”

The innkeeper’s wife offered Bliss a goblet upon a tray, and Bliss weakly lifted it to her lips to sip delicately. “There, dearie,” the innkeeper’s wife said kindly. “ ’Tis better now, ain’t it?”

Feeling her rolling belly beginning to settle, Bliss nodded. “It is better,” she admitted.

“Bring Lady FitzHugh a plate with two slices of capon, from the breast only. A small slice of ham, not fatty though. A slice of fresh bread with honey, and a small goblet of sweet wine,” said Blaze.

“And for the gentlemen, m’lady?” said the innkeeper’s wife, who recognized authority when she saw it.

“Capon, ham, beef, meat pies, cheese, soup, fruit, bread, ale, and wine. Whatever you have that will fill them up.” Blaze smiled.

Anthony checked upon the horses, and ordered the innkeeper to see to the comfort of their escort. The two young couples ate their supper together quietly, although by meal’s end Bliss was obviously quite recovered. For a while they sat by the fire roasting apples, but finally acknowledging their journey on the morrow, they departed for their rooms. Heartha had had her supper with Bliss’s Betty, and was awaiting her mistress. Anthony discreetly waited outside while his bride was readied for bed.

“A fine place for a wedding night,” grumbled Heartha. “Some tumbledown inn in the middle of nowhere.”

Blaze said nothing. She was tired, and in no mood to argue with her tiring woman. Besides, she knew what was to come, although she doubted that her bridegroom would be happy about it.

“What’s this?” Heartha looked outraged. “I put in your new pale violet nightrail, m’lady, not this plain thing! Who has been playing tricks on me?”

“I removed the violet gown, and packed it in one of the trunks,” said Blaze. “It was much too flimsy to wear in a draughty inn without a fireplace to keep the room warm.”

“Your husband is supposed to keep you warm,” huffed Heartha, her visions of romance destroyed by the bride’e herself.

“My
husband
”—God, how strange that word sounded suddenly—“will want to get some rest, as we must arise early to continue our journey,” Blaze replied. Freed of her gown and her petticoats, she washed herself in the little basin of warm water that Heartha had provided. Then, removing her chemise she took the plain white silk nightrail with its long sleeves and its high neck from her servant, and slipped it over her head. “Where is my nightcap?” she asked.

With an audible sniff of disapproval Heartha found the required item, and handed it to her mistress. Then, grumbling beneath her breath she sat Blaze down, and brushed out her long hair. When she had finished Blaze tied the charming little silk cap with its pink ribbons beneath her chin, and climbed into bed. “You can tell Lord Wyndham that he may enter now, Heartha, and then find your own bed. Good night,” said Blaze sweetly.

Anthony Wyndham closed the door behind his wife’s servant, and adjusting his eyes to the dimness of the room with its one chamberstick, he finally saw her awaiting him in their bed. “You are a most fetching sight, madam,” he said, and began to strip off his own garments. Here was the only compensation he would get from this marriage, and he would wager that Henry Tudor had taught her some clever little tricks to please a man. There was at least that benefit to be had from marrying the king’s mistress.

“A moment, my lord,” she said, and he immediately knew that the tone of her voice boded no good.

“What is it, madam?”

“There will be no intimacy between us for the time being,” she said quietly.

“Indeed?”
He could feel a faint throb behind his temples just beginning. “Perhaps you will enlighten me as to why there will be no intimacy between us for the
time being.
Do you have your flux at this time?”

“No, my lord, I do not!” she said, unable to keep the snappishness from her voice, feeling the warmth in her cheeks.

“Then mayhap you will tell me, madam, why it is you are proposing to deny me my rights as your husband?” He crossed the room to sit down upon the bed. “Are you afraid of me, Blaze?” His voice had gentled.

“Afraid of you?” She barked a laugh. “No, my lord, I am not in the least afraid of you. Tell me, though. Am I not expected to produce an heir for you, for the Langford earldom, as quickly as possible?”

“Aye, you are!” was his blunt answer.

“Then, my lord, if you would be certain that the son I eventually bear you is yours, and not Henry Tudor’s, you will restrain your passions for me for the next three months. I will have no doubts about my child’s paternity, my lord. I will not have you flinging any such doubts in my face ever. There will be no uncertainty with our first child as there was with Mary Boleyn’s.”

“I had not thought of it,” he said in a tone that surprised her in its reasonableness. “Do you think you might be carrying a royal bastard, Blaze?”

“I do not know,” she said simply, thinking how easy this lie was to tell him. She had no intention of spreading her legs to satisfy his lusts, or his curiosity as to what she had learned in the king’s bed. At least not this night. Not any night until there was something more than anger and suspicion between them. “I have heard it said that when in doubt over a matter such as this, it is better to wait three full months before coupling again. The women of my family have an irregular flux, and so I cannot be certain of my condition, but I would not deliberately foist a bastard, even a royal bastard, upon the Wyndhams, Tony. Whatever our differences may be, I think you know that my loyalty to the Langford earldom is unquestioned.”

“Aye,” he admitted, knowing even as he did so that he was also agreeing to restrain his natural desires. “Why the hell did you not wait to wed with me then, Blaze?” he demanded of her.

“You will remember, my lord, that it was the king himself who set our wedding day, not I,” she said primly.

“Aye,” he grumbled. “The king set our wedding day, and set it as quickly as he dared so that he might chase after Mistress Anne Boleyn. He would give no thought to our comforts, would he? Did you see the bitch catch your wedding bouquet, Blaze, and the coy smile upon her face when she did? God, the thing flew to her hand as if directed by witchcraft
^!
”

“Poor Hal,” said Blaze softly.

“
Poor Hal?
What of poor Tony, who must now sleep upon the cold floor in a room without a fireplace?”

Blaze could not help the giggle that escaped her. He looked so genuinely forlorn. “If you can promise me that you will keep your baser nature under strong control,” she said, flipping the comforter back, “I shall keep mine under as tight a rein, my lord, and we may share this bed.”

“Agreed!” he said, and immediately climbed in next to her. “Good night, madam.” Turning away from her he worked his way beneath the covers.

“Good night, my lord,” she returned, and blew out the chamberstick.

Within a short time she heard him breathing evenly, and the tension relaxed from her body. She snuggled down beneath the coverlet, and sighed softly. There was something so comforting about the bulk of a man’s body next to one. Oh, Edmund, she thought as she had thought so many times over the last year. Why did you have to die? I liked our life together. It was simple and peaceful, and I felt safe. Most of all I felt loved. I suppose that you would approve of Tony, yet God help me there is nothing between us. I could not bear the thought of creating a child with a man for whom I have no feelings. Children should come of love between a man and a woman. Perhaps that is why I never conceived a child with the king. Oh, what shall I do, Edmund? I have but three months’ grace. After that I cannot deny Tony that which is his by both God’s law and the king’s law. With these troubling thoughts swirling about her head Blaze finally fell into a restless sleep.

He awakened before first light, hearing the faint stirrings of the innkeeper and his staff in the taproom below, hearing the soft nickering of the horses in the stables. Gingerly he stretched his long body, easing the kinks from his limbs, turning slowly to see her sleeping beside him, her face invisible to him in the gray darkness, her body a shapeless lump beneath the coverlet.
His wife.
His wife, Blaze. Blaze Wyndham was his wife. He had gained his heart’s desire, yet in doing so he seemed to have gained nothing at all. Quietly he slipped from the bed, and relieving himself first in the chamber pot, he quickly dressed, for the air this morning was frosty. The sky was beginning to lighten, and turning, he could now see her.

She looked so innocent and sweet in sleep. How hard it was to equate his sleeping wife with the ambitious woman who had been the king’s whore. Still, even knowing it, he had wanted her for his wife. How fortunate it had been that the king was tiring of Blaze when he arrived at court to claim her, else he would have never been able to wed her. Her honey-colored hair was tousled about her face, and spread over the pillows. God, she was so fair! How could any man, even a king, tire of such loveliness?

Reaching out, he touched her shoulder, and shook her gently. “Wake up, Blaze. It is morning, and we must go soon.”

She was instantly awake, and nodded silently to him.

“Shall I send Heartha to you?”

“Please, my lord, if you would.”

They ate a breakfast of baked apples with clotted cream, ham, hard-boiled eggs, and a cottage loaf fresh from the oven with melted butter and plum jam. Blaze prescribed a small goblet of brown ale for her sister, and then made Bliss walk a goodly mile in the crisp morning air before she would allow her sibling to get into their coach.

“The trouble with you is that you indulge yourself too much,” she gently scolded Bliss.

“But I am having a baby,” Bliss protested.

“Which is a natural event in the life of a young married woman,” laughed Blaze. “You have been at court so long that you have become confused as to what is natural and what is not. You have been getting sick because you eat too many rich foods. Look how you protested this morning that the eggs were but plain and hard-boiled, and not poached and covered in some thick sauce of marsala wine and cream. Simple foods are best. Surely you do not want to get fat, Bliss. If you continue as you have, you will be a plump little partridge after the child comes, and you will never be able to get back into your court finery.”

“You certainly know how to threaten me,” grumbled Bliss, “but you have been with child twice. I suppose you know what you are talking about.”

Blaze’s violet-blue eyes twinkled. “Aye, Bliss, I do. You had best heed me, else Owen’s roving eye stray to a more slender female.”

“
Never!
The rogue is so enamored of me that no woman could ever take my place,” Bliss declared. “Nonetheless I shall watch my diet, as you suggest, as I do not choose to be plump.” Her eyes narrowed speculatively. “Enough of me, sister. What of you? Was Tony as good a lover as the king?”

“I have no idea if Tony is a good lover,” said Blaze calmly.

Bliss’s mouth fell open, and she stared at her elder sister in complete surprise. “What!” Then, recovering, she demanded, “Tell me what happened ! Tell me at once!”

Well, thought Blaze, amused, Bliss will not have time to be ill today. “There is nothing mysterious or terrible. I have asked my husband to wait three months before coupling with me because I would be absolutely certain that I do not carry the king’s child. Remember poor Mary Boleyn. The child came in six months after her wedding to Master William Carey, and the king would not acknowledge it formally as his own, even though he said privately that it probably was. I could hardly allow such a thing to happen to me. There’ll be no bastards in the Langford earldom.”

“Are you with child?” demanded Bliss shrewdly. “You are not, are you, Blaze?”

“Remember the irregular flux of the Morgan women,” Blaze answered.

“Which only Delight and I seem to have,” Bliss reminded her. “Why did you lie to Tony?”

“I am not of a mind to lie with Tony right now, sister. I am tired of having to spread my legs at my
master’s
will. The king blackmailed me to it, and then when he tired of me he married me off to Tony, who thinks because he is my husband, swiving me is his natural-born right whether he cares for me or no. Would you really enjoy serving the needs of a man you did not know or like, Bliss? Be honest with yourself, would you?”

“Nay,” said Bliss slowly, “I would not.”

“Then have some sympathy for me, dearest. I need some time for myself,
and
to get to know Anthony Wyndham. I do not really know him, Bliss. Perhaps living with him will help me to put aside my anger. There should be something between us even if it is nothing more than respect and friendship. It is hard for me to go back to RiversEdge and know that Edmund is no longer there, that it is Anthony who is now my husband, and the man who will share the bed where Edmund and I once loved. Where Nyssa was created and born. Where her brother died.”

Bliss nodded her head slowly. “I had not thought of those things,” she said, and then, “You are a very brave woman, Blaze! I had not thought of it until now, but you are.”

Blaze laughed. She could never remember Bliss having ever offered her a spontaneous compliment such as she had just given her elder sister. “I am not brave, Bliss,” she said. “I simply do what I must do to survive, and I always will.”

Several days later the sisters waved farewell to each other from their coaches as the vehicles turned away in different directions. Shortly afterward the Earl of Langford’s carriage rolled through the villages of Wyeton and Michaelschurch and down the hill road to where RiversEdge stood.

“God’s foot!” Blaze said without thinking and using the king’s favorite oath. “It is good to be home again!”

Anthony could not help but smile at her. “It
is
good to be home,” he agreed.