“Why would I choose a useless wife?” He sat on the edge of the stool and looked down at me with his head tilted to one side. “I’ve had my share of princesses and the like. If I wanted one of them for a wife, I would have chosen one of them. Trying to force me to choose his daughter as reward was King Edgar’s way of trying to get under my skin and, in turn, under my uncle’s skin. Choosing you upset his plans and made it clear that a union between our kingdoms will not come at such a low price.”
“So, I am a political pawn, my lord?”
He laughed out loud at me.
“Yes, I suppose you are,” he said, still chuckling. “A very beautiful political pawn. Now stop addressing me as my lord. There is no one else here.”
“I’m sorry, Branford,” I said.
“You are forgiven, Alexandra,” he said with a smile. With a yawn, he stood and stretched his arms over his head before walking over toward the basin to wash. I stood and quickly followed him. Branford watched, bemused, as I took up the pitcher of water and filled the basin, then adding the heated water left over in the kettle. I tested the water to make sure it was the proper temperature, took a cloth from a basket nearby, soaked it, wrung it out, and then held it for Branford to take.
“Do you think Princess Whitney would have bothered to warm my bathing water for me?” he asked with a smile.
“No, my…Branford.” I smiled back at him, finally feeling as though I had done something right. Before I could feel too pleased with myself though, I had to quickly turn away as Branford loosened his shirt and pulled it over his head, baring his chest to me.
“You might as well get accustomed to it,” Branford said. I found I could hear his smile in his voice. “I sleep without a nightshirt. It is much more comfortable.”
I remained where I was, my eyes focused on the fire. I could hear Branford’s soft laughter behind me.
“Would you prefer it if I got into the bed first and covered myself?”
“Yes, please,” I said. I heard more of his clothing rustle near the changing screen and then felt him walk past me toward the bed. After another minute, he called out.
“Are you ready to sleep?” he asked, laughter still evident in his voice. “Or do you plan on standing all night? It’s safe for you to look now.”
I glanced quickly, wondering if he was teasing me or not. He was on the far side of the bed with one of the blankets drawn to just under his armpits. His bare arms and broad shoulders were still clearly exposed, and he was propped up on one elbow, looking at me with that half smile.
I slowly approached and then stopped at the side of the bed farthest from him. Taking a deep breath to prepare my nerves, I slipped under the blanket and quickly pulled it up to my chin. As soon as my head rested against the soft, down-filled pillow, I could feel every muscle in my body tense. Though he was on the other side of the bed, I could still hear his breathing and feel his presence. In the sheer nightdress, I felt completely exposed even with the blankets over me, and my thoughts again shifted to how little I knew of this man.
“Goodnight, my wife.”
“Goodnight, Branford,” I replied. I tried to force my muscles to relax, telling myself over and over that the bed was large, and he was really not so close. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and then closed my eyes as the events of the day and the emotions they generated washed over me.
As I lay completely motionless on my side of the bed, facing away from my husband, I tried not to cry. What had happened to me? How had I gone from a relatively happy, if penniless, handmaid to a princess, to the wife of the heir to the crown from the next kingdom in a single day? I had married a man I did not know, and now I did not know what I was supposed to do with my life. I hadn’t even allowed my husband to sanctify our marriage. What kind of wife was I going to be for him, with or without warm bathing water?
I closed my eyes and begged sleep to come. Perhaps the light of day would cast a favorable outlook on my plight. Then I realized I didn’t even know if we would still be here the next day or if we would be heading for Silverhelm. Maybe my husband was due for another tournament in some other nearby kingdom. What would happen to me if he were hurt in a tournament? What if he were killed? I had to fight back panic again as all of the tension, the fear, the anxiety, and the worry of the past day came crashing down on me, and the tears I had held back throughout the day burst forth.
“Alexandra.”
I heard his soft voice behind me and felt his hand on my shoulder.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m s-s-sorry…my lord…I mean, Branford.” I could hardly speak. I felt him turn me over and gather me up in his arms, holding me against his body with my palms spread out over his chest. “I…d-don’t know…what…I’m…sup-supposed to…to d-do now!”
“Shh, Alexandra…”
Unable to do anything else, I leaned into him and cried against his warmth as his whispers told me it would be all right, and his hand stroked my hair. All of my tight muscles slowly began to relax under his touch, and I found enough breath to quiet my sobs. His arms held me tightly against his bare chest, and his warmth comforted me unlike any fire ever had. I don’t know how long he held me like that before I fell into slumber.
And that is how I spent my wedding night.
Chapter 4—Secretly Overhear
When I woke, I was distinctly warm, and not from the fire smoldering across the room.
I was lying across Branford’s bare chest, my head on his shoulder and my hand on his stomach. I could feel one of his arms around my back, across both of my shoulders, holding me close to him. His other hand was on my arm, which lay on top of him. The blanket had shifted downward in the night and now only came up to our waists. In the dim firelight, I could make out the distinct shape of the muscles covering his torso. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to contain my nerves. I opened my eyes again slowly, taking in the partially disrobed, absolutely stunning body of my husband.
His shoulders were broad, and the muscles