Page 88 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“No, really? I am quite sure Sir Mason did not leave you in any doubt for too long.” the Queen laughed slyly as Linnet blushed. “Perhaps you did not break your fast before I summoned you,” she suggested apologetically. “Which would, again, make it my fault.”

“Oh, no, I did,” Linnet assured her. “I always do. But, sadly, my stomach was upset this morning, so―” She broke off hurriedly.

“You were queasy this morning? Sick?” asked the Queen. “And then, midday, you swoon? Aha! But of course,” she said, nodding her head. “This is the unknown factor that threw my stratagem off. By any chance, Linnet, have you also been uncustomarily fatigued?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Linnet uneasily before remembering her sleeping session that afternoon. “Oh . . .”

The Queen gave a ripple of laughter. “You do not seem so certain, little one. Are you sure that, er . . .” She plucked at her skirt. “You are not . . . how do you call it?” she asked delicately. At Linnet’s blank expression she leant forward. “With child?”

Linnet blinked at her. “Well I—” she hesitated. “That is, I do not—” Her face flushed. “Well, of course, I could be . . . ”

XXXVI

Afterward, much later, as they lay entwined in bed murmuring to each other about the day’s events, Linnet could hardly believe so much had been packed into one day. She smiled into Mason’s chest and wriggled closer. He had made very sweet and thorough love to her, caressing every part of her body until she was drifting away on a cloud of bliss. She could be in absolutely no doubt that her husband was madly in love with her. At least as much as she was with him.

“Are you trying to fall asleep on me again?” he asked suspiciously. His hands closed gently around her ears, lifting her face from where she’d buried it in his chest.

“I’m so tired,” she said softly.

“Nay, you can’t be,” he countered. “This is the part where you talk the hind legs off a donkey and tell me your every aggravating thought.”

“But you hate it when I do that,” protested Linnet, forcing her eyes open to look at him. “You said you wanted utter silence after you’ve bedded me,” she pointed out irritably.

“No, I didn’t. I would never say that. I love it and feel cheated when you try and cut that part out.”

“Ugh,” she said, letting her head drop forward again and snuggling it against his warm, tanned skin.

“Linnet!” he pointed out reasonably. “You can’t be tired. You slept all afternoon.”

“So sleepy!” she protested, clinging tightly to him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Queen Armenal thinks I might be pregnant,” she murmured into his neck.

“What?”

She felt a jolt as his whole body tensed beneath her. “Well, I swooned, don’t forget. I never swoon. And this morning, I vomited. I never vomit either,” she added thoughtfully. “And then I just keep getting so tired.”

“You vomited? When? You never told me.”

“Directly after breakfast.”

His hand slid round from her backside to lightly caress her flat stomach. “Does it feel any different?” he asked, sounding curious.

“Not yet.”

“Should we return home sooner?” he asked. Linnet could hear a faint thread of panic running through his words. “The King asked for us to remain another sennight.”

“I’m sure that’s fine,” she mumbled.

“I only agreed because it would keep us out of Robards’s way while he prepares our celebration feast at Cadwallader.”

“What celebration feast?” Linnet raised her head to peer down at him.

“Our wedding feast. The one you wanted with all the tenants and laborers and servants having the day off.” He shrugged. “And the tents. That one.”

“We’re having it?” she asked.