“Oh, my poor, poor little dove,” Antony cooed, his arms going tighter around me. “You have had to endure so much.”
“For that reason,” I continued, keeping my voice as strong as I could manage despite the tears that threatened, “I can’t say I relish the prospect of being a wife once more.”
“I see.” He began to stroke my hair and, like a cat, I tilted my head back to allow him access. “I can’t promise you that you will always enjoy being my wife, my lady. There is the matter of discipline, which I insist upon, as you know. And you will have to work hard, I won’t deny it. But I will always strive to make you happy, if I can.”
It would have to be enough. I knew that, in every fiber of my being: what Antony offered would have to be enough for me. Besides which, he truly was the kindest man I’d ever met. I honestly believed that other than a hot backside, he would never hurt me. In the end, wasn’t a smacked bottom better than a bruised heart?
“Yes, my lord.” It was the first time I’d ever said such a thing, and I could feel Antony’s smile even if I didn’t look up to see it. “I shall be your wife.”
Chapter Six
The farmer’s wife had sent us off with saddlebags full of bread, apples, a side of meat, and even a small jug of ale. From the moment she looked at me, I was sure that she’d heard my wailing as Antony had spanked me, and I couldn’t bear to look her in the eye.
Antony had thanked her and pressed a few coins into her hand as payment before helping me into the saddle. “Are you feeling well?”
I considered the question. My arse throbbed horridly, and I sensed that it would only grow worse after long hours in the saddle. Yet, despite that, my heart felt lighter than it had in days. I’d cried until my eyes were red and my throat was raw, but somehow I found myself smiling shyly at Antony when I woke in the morning. “Yes, thank you.”
“Good.” He gave my waist a squeeze before he released his hold on me. “We won’t be riding too hard today considering your… ah… condition.”
I blushed to hear him mention my spanked bottom and was thankful that the farmer’s wife had already departed and wasn’t there to witness my flushed cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I thought we’d stay at an inn tonight. Would you like that?”
The prospect of an actual bed and a fire, perhaps even a bath, was too wonderful for words, though I was sure my beaming smile was sufficient a message of gratitude.
“Then, after we break our fast, we will ride for my farm. We should be there before dinner time.”
I watched as Antony mounted his animal. He had such a fluid, easy grace. How had I never noticed it before? He straddled the animal with confidence—the same way he did everything. My eyes took in his long legs and traveled upward, to the hard thighs I’d been bent over to take my punishment the night before. I caught myself wondering what he would look like out of his jerkin and trousers. No sooner than the question crossed my mind, Antony looked back at me and I dropped my eyes, feeling my face flame with heat as though he could read my thoughts.
I shouldn’t be thinking of him in such a manner! Yes, soon he would be my husband, but even so, it was indecent! I’d certainly never thought of Wallace in that way, even after we’d bedded many a time. My shame was only heightened when I recalled that the nobility had always talked—behind closed doors, of course—of the peasants’ wantonness. Surely that was why they had so many children—more than they could ever hope to feed! Was that what was happening to me? Was spending time with Antony and coming to have feelings for him changing me?
“Are you ready to ride, my lady?”
His husky voice broke me out of my thoughts and I found myself smiling even before I’d begun to nod my assent. If Antony was changing me, I decided, it was only for the better.
* * *
Though we stopped riding long before we normally did, by the time we reached the inn my backside felt like it had been lit on fire. I was grateful when Antony came to lift me out of the saddle. “Do you think a bath might be possible?” I ventured as we walked inside.
“Tonight, you shall have anything that is within my power to give, sweeting.”
His words warmed me and I was smiling by the time we approached the innkeeper. “I require a room for the evening,” he told the wizened man. “And perhaps you might tell me where I can find a priest?”
His eyes darted back and forth between the two of us, seeming to read my flushed cheeks and Antony’s smile in but a moment. “Ye’ll be wanting to speak to Bishop Williams, then.” He gave us directions, chuckling as Antony took my hand and guided me from the inn.
“Let’s walk,” he suggested once we’d gotten outside. “It’s close by, and it will give the horses a rest.”
I nodded my assent. I couldn’t imagine how walking could be any worse than riding. Though Antony seemed content to walk alongside me without a word, I found my nerves mounting with every step we took. A marriage contract was nothing to enter into lightly, but somehow knowing that I had feelings for him made it almost more difficult. It was true that I had few options available to me, but the more my heart warmed toward him, the more I worried. Inevitably, he would tire of me, and what happened when the sweet words and kind smiles were nothing but a distant memory? This time, my heart would truly bleed, for I would have already given it to him.
Yet, I found that I could not say any of these things. When the time came, I did as I’d vowed to and stood beside him, saying “I do” in a voice that was clear and rang through the room like a bell. The smile Antony gave me as he squeezed my hand made my heart flutter with hope.
It was done in minutes, finished with a prayer led by the bishop, and then we were once more on our way back to the inn. It had taken no time at all, certainly not the amount of time that should be required to commit yourself to one person for the rest of your life. Antony was so cheerful he practically strutted, the veil of silence seeming to have lifted now that the deed was done.
“A hot meal will do us both good,” he commented as we made our way back to the inn. “I would love a good piece of fish, but it will probably be stew.” I could feel his eyes on me but couldn’t bring myself to reply. “Come, now.” He bumped me playfully with his shoulder. “It’s your turn to guess.”
“I don’t know. Mutton, perhaps.”
“I can see you’re not in the spirit of the game.” His eyes shone at me, filled to the brim with a happy light. “Are you alright?”
