Besieged and Betrothed

‘You haven’t mentioned my gown.’ She rounded on him accusingly.

‘Haven’t I?’ His tone was impassive.

‘No.’

‘It looks good.’

‘Good.’ She repeated the word flatly.

‘Very good. It’s just not what I’m used to.’

Her temper flared. ‘No, I’m sure the Empress has much finer gowns.’

‘What does the Empress have to do with it? I meant that I’m not used to seeing you in something so...’ he seemed momentarily lost for words ‘...colourful.’

She pursed her lips. If colourful was the best thing he could think of to say about it, then she might as well not have bothered.

‘It’s time we went upstairs.’

‘For the bedding ceremony?’ Her voice seemed to have turned into a squeak.

‘Yes.’ His gaze swept over her face and then away past her shoulder. ‘It’s expected.’

She swallowed apprehensively as she stood up, trying to suppress a rising sense of panic as she walked towards the stairwell. She could hear Lothar’s footsteps behind her, then others, a whole cacophony of footsteps as the revellers followed them up to her chamber. What were they going to do—watch? This was the worst, most humiliating thing she could ever have imagined! Surely her father had never intended for her to go through anything like this!

‘My lady?’ Alys was already waiting in her chamber. ‘Shall I help you with your gown?’

‘Please.’ Her hands were shaking so much she doubted she’d be able to undo any of the ties herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lothar enter the room behind her and start to disrobe, tossing his boots casually into one corner as if he weren’t remotely concerned about what was happening. She felt sick. This wasn’t the way marriage was supposed to be, was it? With a cluster of people standing outside their door waiting for them to do...what? She tensed as Alys drew the gown over her head, leaving her naked except for a knee-length shift. Surely Lothar wouldn’t take her to bed just to provide witnesses to their marriage? It was so cold, so emotionless. Why were witnesses important anyway? She looked over her shoulder to see a crowd gathered outside, though mercifully no one was making any attempt to come in. Quickly, she fled to the bed, jumping in and wriggling under the covers.

‘There you are.’ Lothar followed Alys across the room as she made to depart, giving an exaggerated bow to their audience before slamming the door in their faces. ‘They’ve seen us together.’

‘You mean that’s it?’ She sat up in surprise. ‘I thought they had to see us in bed?’

‘They’ve seen us half-dressed in a bedchamber. That’s enough.’

She lay down again, her whole body sagging with relief. ‘So what now?’

‘Now I suggest we get some sleep.’

He pulled his tunic over his head and she squeezed her eyes shut, shocked by the sight of his naked chest. She’d thought of him as a statue often enough, but now the comparison seemed even more apt. His torso was so well defined he might as well have been carved from marble, the muscles of his stomach like waves that had been petrified, as solid and unyielding as rock. As if she hadn’t felt inadequate enough before!

‘I could sleep in the chair if you prefer?’ He sounded hesitant.

‘No.’ She opened one eye cautiously. ‘As long as we’re just sleeping.’

His expression clouded for a moment and then cleared. ‘So you thought the bedding ceremony meant...’

She pulled the covers up over her face, trying to hide her embarrassment. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

‘No wonder you looked so scared.’

‘I did not!’ She hauled the blanket down again, stung by the accusation.

‘You were shaking.’

She opened her mouth to argue and then closed it again. ‘Well, maybe I was, but you can’t blame me. I didn’t know what to expect. We’ve never discussed...that.’