population of the entire world appeared to stand in that open doorway, Emma thought
faintly. At
least the population of her small world. Lord Bertrand, the bishop, her cousin Rolfe, Lord
Blake, Lord Amaurys men, and every single servant of the keepincluding those who had been
sent out on watchappeared to be at the door to that room. Every single one of them was
vying to see the couple on the bed. Eager to assure themselves that the deed had been done
and they were safe from the man standing panting in the doorway, exhaustion and defeat
struggling on his face as he stared at the entwined couple through the bed curtains she
had thoughtlessly left wide open on crawling into bed.
There was a heartbeat of time where everyone simply froze. Then Amaury suddenly moved.
Leaping from atop her, off the bed, and sweeping the blankets up to cover her in one fluid
movement, he snatched his sword from where it leaned against the wall and turned to face
the intruders, completely and gloriously nude.
What is the meaning of this?
Emma glanced sharply at him. Despite the fact that he had been more than aware of the
events occurring, he was giving a most credible portrayal of a groom unexpectedly
interrupted on his wedding eve. She took a moment to marvel at his ability, then glanced
toward Bertrand.
Her memory had not served her well. While she had known that Fulk and his cousin had been
of a similar size and were both smaller than Amaury, she had not realized by quite how
much. Good Lord, the man looked like a boy before her new husband. It did not help that
Blake and her cousin Rolfe crowded the doorway behind him, towering over him by a good
head. He was like a dwarf amid a room of giants. A very diminutive, fair-haired dwarf.
There was not a bit of bulk on his frame, and while his features were handsome, they were
soft and weak next to the harsh planes and angles of her new husband. There was no doubt
in Emmas mind that should there be a battle, Bertrand would not fare well against Amaury
de Aneford. That being the case, she was a bit surprised when the man suddenly drew
himself up to announce, I come from the king.
When Amaury merely raised an eyebrow, the bishop pushed his way through the crowd to the
front of the onlookers.
Our apologies, my Lord Amaury, the older man said smoothly, none of his earlier panic
evident in his voice. As Lord Bertrand says, he comes with a letter from the king stating
that should the wedding not already be consummated, it should be made null. However we can
see
We can see no such thing. There was a note of panic in Bertrands voice now. All we saw was
them embracing. They have not consummated the marriage. Tis null.
Amaury allowed the tip of his sword to drop to the floor, and he leaned on it in a
seemingly relaxed manner. I beg to differ with you, my lord. Unlike your cousin, I did not
dally. This marriage is well and truly consummated.
Bertrands face twisted briefly in defeat mingled with weariness as he glanced to where
Emma sat wide-eyed on the bed, the bed linens clutched to her chest. Then he smiled
suddenly. Prove it.
Emma blinked in confusion as all eyes turned to her, wondering how they were to prove it.
Were they truly expected to perform that atrociously painful act again? And in front of
them? Again? For they had certainly been well and truly joined when everyone had burst
into the room. At least she thought they had.
Peering at the bed, Amaury knew at once the problem. The bedclothes were black... as was
everything
else in this bloody castle. Blood would show on white sheets, but doubtless would not on
black.
True, the sheets would not show, Rolfe said confidently, stepping up beside the bishop now
as he too caught the drift of Bertrands thoughts. Howbeit, Amaury carries the proof
himself.
All eyes, including Emmas, now turned to Amaury and dropped to that odd appendage
faintly. At
least the population of her small world. Lord Bertrand, the bishop, her cousin Rolfe, Lord
Blake, Lord Amaurys men, and every single servant of the keepincluding those who had been
sent out on watchappeared to be at the door to that room. Every single one of them was
vying to see the couple on the bed. Eager to assure themselves that the deed had been done
and they were safe from the man standing panting in the doorway, exhaustion and defeat
struggling on his face as he stared at the entwined couple through the bed curtains she
had thoughtlessly left wide open on crawling into bed.
There was a heartbeat of time where everyone simply froze. Then Amaury suddenly moved.
Leaping from atop her, off the bed, and sweeping the blankets up to cover her in one fluid
movement, he snatched his sword from where it leaned against the wall and turned to face
the intruders, completely and gloriously nude.
What is the meaning of this?
Emma glanced sharply at him. Despite the fact that he had been more than aware of the
events occurring, he was giving a most credible portrayal of a groom unexpectedly
interrupted on his wedding eve. She took a moment to marvel at his ability, then glanced
toward Bertrand.
Her memory had not served her well. While she had known that Fulk and his cousin had been
of a similar size and were both smaller than Amaury, she had not realized by quite how
much. Good Lord, the man looked like a boy before her new husband. It did not help that
Blake and her cousin Rolfe crowded the doorway behind him, towering over him by a good
head. He was like a dwarf amid a room of giants. A very diminutive, fair-haired dwarf.
There was not a bit of bulk on his frame, and while his features were handsome, they were
soft and weak next to the harsh planes and angles of her new husband. There was no doubt
in Emmas mind that should there be a battle, Bertrand would not fare well against Amaury
de Aneford. That being the case, she was a bit surprised when the man suddenly drew
himself up to announce, I come from the king.
When Amaury merely raised an eyebrow, the bishop pushed his way through the crowd to the
front of the onlookers.
Our apologies, my Lord Amaury, the older man said smoothly, none of his earlier panic
evident in his voice. As Lord Bertrand says, he comes with a letter from the king stating
that should the wedding not already be consummated, it should be made null. However we can
see
We can see no such thing. There was a note of panic in Bertrands voice now. All we saw was
them embracing. They have not consummated the marriage. Tis null.
Amaury allowed the tip of his sword to drop to the floor, and he leaned on it in a
seemingly relaxed manner. I beg to differ with you, my lord. Unlike your cousin, I did not
dally. This marriage is well and truly consummated.
Bertrands face twisted briefly in defeat mingled with weariness as he glanced to where
Emma sat wide-eyed on the bed, the bed linens clutched to her chest. Then he smiled
suddenly. Prove it.
Emma blinked in confusion as all eyes turned to her, wondering how they were to prove it.
Were they truly expected to perform that atrociously painful act again? And in front of
them? Again? For they had certainly been well and truly joined when everyone had burst
into the room. At least she thought they had.
Peering at the bed, Amaury knew at once the problem. The bedclothes were black... as was
everything
else in this bloody castle. Blood would show on white sheets, but doubtless would not on
black.
True, the sheets would not show, Rolfe said confidently, stepping up beside the bishop now
as he too caught the drift of Bertrands thoughts. Howbeit, Amaury carries the proof
himself.
All eyes, including Emmas, now turned to Amaury and dropped to that odd appendage
Similar Books
