To The Castle. Joan Wolf

      “Call me Roger,” he said.

      Her lips parted a little. She was really very lovely. “Roger,” she said shyly.

      He smiled at her. “Nell. I am not such a bad fellow, but I will let you find that out for yourself. In the meantime, I think we should keep our little arrangement to ourselves. I have a feeling that our elders would not approve.”

      “My mother would, I think, but not my father,” Nell said, her voice stronger now. “Mother wanted the marriage to be delayed to give me a chance to adjust to life outside the convent, but Father wouldn’t hear of it.”

      “My grandfather also wanted the marriage to take place quickly.” He grinned at her. “I was nervous, too, you know.”

      “You were?” she looked at him wonderingly.

      He nodded. “I was afraid you were going to be ugly and that I wouldn’t be attracted to you at all. I was much relieved when I saw how pretty you are.”

      A little more color came to her face. “It is vain of me, I know, but when I saw my face in the mirror I was happy that I looked nice,” she confessed.

      He stared at her in astonishment. “You sound as if this was a recent occurrence.”

      “Since I came home, a few weeks ago. There were no mirrors in the convent.”

      “You really didn’t see yourself until a few weeks ago?” She nodded. Then she offered, “My mother’s ladies were all agog about how handsome you are. They all of them wished that they were marrying you.”

      “But my looks didn’t sway you.”

      “I prayed that you would have a kind heart,” Nell said. She actually smiled at him. “And you do. I thank you, my lord, for your consideration of my feelings.”

      “Roger,” he said.

      Her smile stayed in place. “Roger.” Her hand loosened its clutch on her robe and the top of it opened a little, giving him a glimpse of her long, delicate throat. She said, “I hope I am not going to be a disappointment to you. My mother has been trying to teach me how to run a castle, and I have learned somewhat, but much of it is still unknown to me.”

      “You will do fine,” he said cheerfully. “My grandfather’s steward, Simon Everard, is in charge of all the domestic staff in the castle, and things run like clockwork. Lady Mabel, Simon’s wife, is in charge of the women. Will you be bringing ladies with you?”

      “My aunt, Lady Alida, will come with me and stay a few months until I am settled in. How many ladies do you have in residence?”

      “Not very many, I’m afraid. We are very much a bachelor household. My grandfather has been a widower for many years.”

      “How old is he?” Nell asked.

      “Seventy,” Roger replied.

      “He seems very young for his age,” Nell said.

      “He is. This year he insisted on going on a tour of his vassals that took us almost two months. He bore up wonderfully.”

      “You sound as if you love him very much,” Nell said softly.

      “My own father died when I was an infant and he is the only father I have ever known,” Roger replied matter-of-factly.

      “What about your mother? She doesn’t reside at Wilton?”

      “No. After my father died, my mother went to live at the convent in Cirencester.”

      “Is she a nun?”

      “No, she is still a laywoman, but she chooses to live there instead of at Wilton.”

      Nell gave him a shy smile. “You seem to be surrounded by convent-dwelling women—first your mother and now your wife.”

      “Yes.” He returned her smile. “It is odd.”

      Her eyes slid away from his and her fingers once more clutched the front of her robe. “I have always slept in a nightgown,” she said. “Do you think I can sleep in this robe tonight?”

      “I think you will be very uncomfortable if you do,” Roger said. “Velvet on a summer night, no matter if it is a bit chilly, is too warm. Besides, they will think it odd in the morning when the servants come in. I won’t look if that’s what you want.”

      “That would be…good,” she said, relieved. “Should I get into bed now?”

      “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just wait here.”

      She slid off the bed and went to the other side. The cover had already been turned back and she quickly folded her robe at the bottom of the bed and slipped in between the sheets, pulling them up to her chin.

      “It’s all right, I’m in bed,” she said to Roger.

      He turned to look at her and smiled. I have a long way to go here, he told himself. Then, unselfconsciously, he shed his own robe and walked to the opposite side of the bed. He slipped in under the covers and pulled them up to his waist. Then he turned to Nell. She was staring resolutely at the ceiling.

      “You can look at me,” he said softly.

      She shot a swift look in his direction, then returned her stare to the ceiling.

      “Will it be all right if I kiss your forehead?” he asked.

      “Yes,” she said on a soft breath.

      He moved closer to her, pushed himself up on his elbow and leaned over her. He bent lower and touched his lips to her forehead. Her skin was soft as silk and her hair smelled like lavender. He inhaled. “Your hair smells nice,” he said.

      “Mama washed it in lavender soap,” she said.

      “I like it.”

      “I’m sure I can make some myself if you really like it,” she said.

      He flopped on his back. “I like it on you. I’d lose all my status with my knights if I showed up smelling like lavender.”

      She chuckled.

      It was a charming sound, he thought. He was relieved to find she had a sense of humor.

      “Good night, Nell,” he said.

      “Good night, Roger,” she replied softly. With a wry smile, he settled himself to sleep.

      Eight

      Nell, who had scarcely slept at all the night before, slept deeply and was surprised when it was a male voice that called her back to the world.

      “Nell, wake up,” Roger was saying. “Your maid is here to help you dress.”

      She opened her eyes and looked into the dark gold eyes of her husband. He smiled at her. “Wake up,” he said again. “We are going to be late for mass.”