“Waiting for what?”
He held a hand out to her, pulling her to her feet. “Us, of course. There can be no marriage without a bride and groom.”
Her eyebrows rose. “We are still to be married tonight?”
He led her to the door. “My father and brother brought the priest back from Stratford this afternoon. I’d hate for the man to have come all this way for nothing.”
“But what about my servants?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
The light of excitement began to gleam in her eye. “Of course.”
His smile returned and he took a moment to study her closely. His gaze moved over her face, memorizing every curve, every line. He would do it every night until he could close his eyes and envision her perfectly, this woman he would be married to. He still found it unbelievable.
“I am afraid that I do not have the luxury of infinite time this night,” he said quietly. “Because of the situation, I will more than likely be up all night watching Whitewell’s army for signs of insurrection. But have no doubt that this wedding will indeed take place and our time to come to know each other, as husband and wife, will indeed come.”
Alixandrea’s response was to return his smile. She frankly had no quick answer; anything she could think of sounded too naïve or too embarrassing. It was a surprise conclusion to an evening that had been full of surprises. With Mark, Caroline and Adam Wellesbourne as witness in Adam’s smelly, cluttered bower, The White Lord of Wellesbourne became husband to the Lady Alixandrea Terrington St. Ave Wellesbourne.
His wife sat up all night, watching him on the ramparts from her small chamber window.
*
It wasn’t agarden as much as it was an overgrown yard filled with dead, dried things, bugs, and other sundry creatures. Uponclose inspection, however, one could see that it had once been very well planned and lovingly maintained. There was even a small pond in the middle of it for all manner of water plants. A bench and massive bronze sundial sat near the north wall. Aye, at one time, this garden had been a marvelous place.
Alixandrea had found Audrey Wellesbourne’s patch quite by chance. She had been trying to escape the dogs that someone had let back into the hall. When the beasts had followed her out into the yard and she had attempted her escape back inside again, the door jammed. Stuck, with several happy dogs closing in, she made a dash for a small gate built into a dividing wall just to the west of her position.
The gate had been old and rusted, but the latch had lifted and she had been able to escape the onslaught of canines. Now, sad doggie faces looked in between the slats of the iron grate as she stood in the middle of the dead garden.
It was close to the noon meal as Alixandrea gazed back at the dogs, wondering how to get out of the enclosure without being mauled. Smells from the kitchen wafted on the breeze and she was hungry. She’d fallen asleep just before dawn, having spent the entire night watching Matthew’s blond head from her bower window. She was somehow fearful that the Whitewell soldiers might somehow create a ruckus and she was worried about her new husband. She could not help but feel that this was all her fault, and in that guilt lay protectiveness. It wasn’t as if The White Lord could not fend for himself, but if her uncle’s soldiers were going to create havoc, she would make it her business to try and stop them, foolish as those thoughts were. She could not let such a thing happen without a fight on her part.
But it had been an exhausting night of watching and waiting. She had only been awake an hour or so, lured down to the hall by the smells of bread. Jezebel had been nowhere to be found, not an unusual occurrence but now one that made her deeplysuspicious. Then the dogs had chased her from the hall, those happy, licking beasts that seemed so attached to her.
Fortunately, the temperature outside was mild enough that she could remain without need of a cloak or heavier clothing. Dressed in a pale linen sheath with long sleeves and a soft wool surcoat of the same off-white color, she took a seat on the old bench and sat in the weak sunlight. She assumed the dogs would tire of waiting for her and go away, so she decided to wait them out.
The warmth of the sun was faint, but it was wonderful. It seemed to heighten her exhaustion and she closed her eyes, soaking it in. She hadn’t seen Matthew yet this morning and wondered where he was. Though she was married to him only last night, he had disappeared soon after the ceremony and she’d not spoken to him since. But she’s had the benefit of catching glimpses of him up on the wall walk all night. It had been comforting. Leaning back against the bench, she closed her eyes and dozed in the sun.
The sounds of the creaking gate startled her. Alixandrea sat up quickly, her eyes opening to see young John Wellesbourne approaching. He smiled shyly at her.
“Good morning,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you, my lady.”
She returned his smile. “Good morning, Sir John. And you did not disturb me in the least.”
“I was passing through the yard and saw you in here. Matt is looking for you.”
She stood up from the bench, pointing to the gate. “I came in here to get away from the dogs. They seem to like me.”
John glanced back at the mutts lined up against the iron entry. “I have never cared much for them.”
“Nor I. Why do you suppose they are intent to follow me?”
He shrugged. “It cannot be because you smell like food. Perhaps they are simply seeking a friendly face and you have one.”
“Perhaps.”
She studied the youngest brother for a moment; she’d only met him one other time, yesterday upon her arrival to Wellesbourne. He was a tall lad, as were most of the Wellesbournes, but he seemed very quiet, a softer, meeker, more introspective version of his eldest brother. And he was very young.
“Well,” she said after a moment. “I suppose I should go and find your brother now.”
