Page 60 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Um, I forgot to mention Husband, that we will be having a new alewife start with us next week,” she said loudly. “Or rather, an old one that has been reinstated to her position.”

Mrs. Wickers had been insistent, when she met with Linnet, that she was well enough to resume her duties in a supervisory role, and Linnet agreed that she could.

Mason shrugged a shoulder. “You did mention something to that effect,” he said, returning to his plate.

“You do not mind, do you?” she asked a little anxiously. “Only Sir Chilton seemed to think—” she broke off in dismay, realizing her mistake.

“What did Sir Chilton seem to think?” asked Mason with an edge to his voice.

She gulped. “That I ought not to make such arrangements without checking with you first,” she answered.

He was quiet for a moment, before reaching for his ale. “You are mistress here, Linnet,” he answered calmly. “The castle staff are under your sway. When I return to court you will be left in charge for months on end.”

Linnet felt her spirits plummet. Months on end? Left alone again in the castle. Her throat throbbed and she had a terrible feeling her eyes would fill with tears if she did not say something quick. “Of course, I had not thought of that.” She sent a blank smile to her brother-in-law who looked concerned. Mason did not turn his head to look at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at her plate a moment before a thought occurred to her, and she turned impulsively towards him. “But first you must get me with child,” she reminded him earnestly. It would not be so bad to be left without him for months on end if she had a baby to care for.

Mason choked on his meat and turned an incredulous gaze on her. “Linnet!”

“But you said—” she broke off her words at his annoyed expression.

“The chit’s quite right,” broke in Baron Vawdrey, nodding his head. “No point tiptoeing round the issue. You need an heir to inherit all this.” He gestured around the room with his chicken leg bone. “What if she were to be fetched off with a sweating sickness while you’re at court waiting on the King? What of my grandson, the Duke then, eh?” he demanded. “While it’s true enough the castle and lands would be yours, and you could soon take another wife, what of the title in abeyance? Answer me that? What—”

“She is not going to get sweating sickness!” said Mason harshly. He stood up. “Do not—” He bit off his words angrily and pressed his fist to his mouth. “Do not speak of this in front of me again,” he said after a moment’s silence, his eyes glittering. “Are you trying to—?” Once again his words broke off as he seemed to struggle with his line of thought.

Linnet gaped up at him.

“Father,” said Oswald hurriedly. “Apologize.”

“What the devil for?”

“You’ve upset Mason.”

“Upset him?” Their father looked bewildered. “He needs to be practical about these things! Wives are exactly like livestock . . . ”

Mason slammed his fist against the table. “Cease talking!” he shouted. “I’ve had enough of this.”

Linnet clambered hastily to her feet and placed a palm against his back. “You’re quite right,” she said hurriedly. “I’m healthier than I’ve ever been and I’m quite convinced there was nothing really wrong with me in the first place!” She stroked his back soothingly. “Please don’t be upset.”

He gave her an odd look at this and then cast his eyes heavenwards, as if appealing for strength. Reluctantly, he took his seat again and Linnet sat back down with relief. Of course, she might already be with child, she thought hopefully. Although she had the suspicion it could take several months of marriage to achieve such a desired outcome. After all, her aunt and uncle had been married for years and years and had never had issue. Dolefully, she remembered Enid’s words about her aunt and Lady Jauncey corresponding. It seemed rather ominous somehow. She pushed her food around the plate. But, after all, there was nothing they could actually do, now she was safely married? Surely?

XVII

So distracted was Linnet that she scarcely noticed Mason had followed her up to their bedchamber directly after supper. Closing the door firmly behind them he unbuckled his belt and started unlacing his tunic. “Strip.”

Linnet cocked her head to one side and looked at him in frowning consideration a moment, before deciding he was serious. Then, with a shrug, she started unfastening her dress.

“Is this because I rose before you?” she asked uncertainly. “Or because I was not awaiting you on your return to the castle . . . ”

“That too,” he agreed abruptly.

She stared at him a moment as he sent a boot skittering across the floor, closely followed by the other. When he was down to his braies, he prowled across the room towards her and helped yank her skirts over her head, followed by her shift and undergarments. He left her bright-yellow hose intact, tied above her knees with red bands. He surveyed her near nudity with satisfaction before backing her up against the door.

“You’re mine,” he said darkly against her ear. Then he pulled back, looking at her through unfathomable, dark eyes. “Now you say it, Linnet.”

She leant up on her tip toes, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “You’re mine,” she whispered and felt him go still before his breathing caught. When she leant back he had the strangest, conflicted look on his face. But he’d wanted to hear the words, she thought in puzzlement. Hadn’t he?

“Let’s try again,” he said tightly. “I’m yours,” he uttered, barely able to meet her confused gaze.

Wasn’t it the same thing? Why did he look like that?