Page 71 of An Ill-Made Match

“Yes, I did.”

“But…” Eden cast about wildly. “Why?”

Roland shrugged. “I don’t know. You always intrigued me I suppose. And when we kissed at Midwinter, that curiosity increased ten-fold. And now you’re mine, and there’s an end to it.”

She blinked at this several times, unsure how to respond. No doubt realizing what nasty creatures men were, when it came down to it. Now he was the one stealing glances at her. He cleared his throat. “Tell me what you’ve been about these past six days, wife,” he said aiming for less contentious grounds.

“I’ve taken many walks with the dogs,” she said in a stifled voice. “And read all the books I could lay my hands on.”

“You found books?”

“To be precise, Cuthbert found them,” admitted Eden. “Fulco saw him throw them into a trunk and I retrieved them.”

“Didn’t know we had any.”

“I believe they belonged to your brother Oswald.”

“I can well believe that,” he grunted. “I bet they’re as dull as ditchwater and all about politicking and such.”

“One was about the government of kings,” agreed Eden. “But the others weren’t. And I found some building plans too,” said Eden. “Which your brother drew up many years ago for extending the Keep.”

“Oh aye?”

“They were vastly interesting,” said Eden. “Although they would cost a fortune to carry out. He must be quite extraordinarily clever, I think.”

Unaccountably, he felt irritated by all this talk of Oswald’s and his plaguey cleverness. “Anything else?” he asked, hoping to induce a change of subject.

“Orla Bernard called. She broke her fast with me.”

“And did she spend the entire visit speaking of Oswald?” he asked sarcastically.

“She did mention him, naturally as he and Fenella are our mutual acquaintances,” said Eden. She paused then added, “She said he is infatuated to an almost unnatural degree with his wife.”

Roland lowered his wine with a frown. Was that true? Both his brothers were certainly very caught up in their wives. “Unnatural?” he repeated.

“She seemed to think so.”

He shrugged. “My sister-in-laws don’t seem to have any complaint.” Eden apparently had no rejoinder for that. “What else did she have to say?” he asked grudgingly.

Eden bit the side of her mouth. “Not much,” she said. “She told me of a seamstress in the village, and seemed surprised we had secured Brigid’s service here.”

“How is that working out?” he asked. “She and Fulco are not… clashing?”

Eden looked surprised by this. “Not that I’ve heard. Why should they?”

“It seems Fulco’s mother does not approve of young widows,” he answered evasively. “I fancy she’s not over-keen for him to take a wife.”

“It’s probably just local prejudice against an outsider,” said Eden with disapproval. “Brigid is from Aphrany, originally. You know how people can be.” She could have a point, he thought, but made no reply. The silence stretched, though he did not notice it until Eden cleared her throat. “So how did your friends fare at Areley Kings?” she asked. “Sir James and Sir Edward.”

“Neither acquitted themselves with much aplomb,” he answered, both pleased she had bothered remembering their names, and irritated she had not asked after his success first. “Attley crashed out of the first round of the jousting and Bev was on the losing side of the melee.”

“And your protegee, Sir Renlowe?” asked Eden. “Did he at least make it through in one piece?”

“I’d hardly call him my protegee,” said Roland with surprise.

“Is he not?” Eden frowned. “I thought I heard somewhere that he was.” She pondered this a moment. “I forget where. So, you do not encourage him to pursue the tourneys then? I thought it a little strange at the time.”

“What do you mean?”