He kissed her, his lips moving gently over hers, and it was like a pledge between them, sacred and right. Vale pulled the coverlet over them, carefully tucking it along her side, and hugged her closer. “Go to sleep, my lady wife.”
His gruff words and tender hands comforted her. Melisande closed her eyes, the last of her tears finally stopping, and listened to the beat of Jasper’s heart under her ear. It was steady and strong, and she drifted into sleep on its rhythm.
THE NEXT MORNING dawned sullenly, the skies gray with a drizzling rain. Aunt Esther sent them off with a hearty breakfast and much calling and waving good-bye. When at last they turned a corner and Aunt Esther’s town house was out of sight, Melisande turned from the window and looked at Vale.
“When will we arrive at Sir Alistair’s house?”
“Today, I think, if we travel well,” Vale replied.
His legs were canted across the carriage floor as usual, and his body lounged bonelessly on the seat, but his wide mouth was turned down at one corner in a small frown. What did he think of her? He hadn’t treated her any differently this morning as they’d risen, dressed, and eaten, but her confession last night must’ve come as a shock. A man didn’t expect his maiden bride to have taken a lover once upon a time and, what’s more, to have been impregnated by that lover.
Melisande glanced away from Vale and stared blindly out the window. Vale had received the revelation well enough, but when he had time to think about it, would it bother him? Would the knowledge that she hadn’t been a virgin on their wedding night begin to fester within him? Would he turn against her? She didn’t know, and with a troubled mind, she watched the highland hills roll by.
They stopped for a late luncheon by a wide, clear stream and ate the cold ham, bread, cheese, and wine that Aunt Esther’s cook had packed for them. Mouse ran about and barked at some nearby highland cows—shaggy things with hair in their eyes—until Vale shouted at him to stop. Then the terrier came over and lay down to gnaw on a ham bone.
They traveled all that afternoon, and by the time night began to fall, Melisande could see that Vale was restless.
“Have we lost our way?” she asked him.
“The coachman assured me he knew where we were when last we stopped,” Vale replied.
“You’ve never been to see Sir Alistair before?”
“No.”
They rode another half hour or so, Suchlike dozing beside Melisande. The road was obviously rutted and poorly maintained, for the carriage rocked and jounced. Finally, just as the last light faded, they heard a shout from one of the men. Melisande peered out the window and thought she saw the dim outlines of a huge building.
“Does your friend live in a castle?”
Vale was peering now too. “It would appear so.”
The carriage slowly turned into a narrow drive, and then they were bouncing toward the manor. Suchlike woke with a gasp. Melisande couldn’t see a light in the building anywhere.
“Sir Alistair does know we’re coming, doesn’t he?”
“I wrote him,” Vale said.
Melisande stared suspiciously at her husband. “Did he reply?”
But Vale pretended not to hear her, and then they’d rolled to a stop in front of the massive building. There was a shout outside and some scrambling, and after a pause, the carriage door opened.
Mr. Pynch held a lantern high, the light casting ominous shadows across his gloomy face. “No one answers the door, my lord.”
“Then we shall just have to knock louder,” Vale said.
He jumped from the carriage and turned to help Melisande out. Suchlike climbed carefully down, and Mouse scrambled out and ran to some bushes to relieve himself. The night was very dark indeed, and a cold wind was whistling across the drive, causing Melisande to shiver.
“Here.” Vale reached back inside the carriage and took out a cloak from under her seat. He wrapped it around her shoulders and then offered her his arm. “Shall we, my lady wife?”
She took his arm and leaned close to whisper, “Jasper, what shall we do if Sir Alistair isn’t at home?”
“Oh, someone will be about, never fear.”
He led her up wide, stone steps so old they had a worn dip in the middle where countless feet had trod before. The door was a massive thing at least ten feet high and bound with great iron hinges.
Vale pounded his fist on the door. “Oy! Open up! There’s travelers without who want a hot fire and a soft bed. Oy! Munroe! Come and let us in!”
He kept up this racket for a good five minutes or more and then suddenly stopped, his fist still raised in midair.