Casting a resentful glance at his wife, Lord Ferdinand rose and raised his goblet. Clearing his throat, he said, “To the happy couple, blessings and happiness and whatever else it is I’m supposed to say.”
A few of the earl’s men at other tables raised their glasses uncertainly. Lord Ferdinand shrugged and sat back down, draining his cup and pouring himself another, which he also drained.
“You bloody idiot,” his wife murmured as he drank. “I ask you to do a simple thing, and even that you bungle. What a useless bag of guts you are.”
“If you’ll pardon me, I have some things to attend to,” Lord Ferdinand said, rising abruptly.
“Good riddance,” said Martin’s new mother-in-law a little too loudly before draining her goblet of honey wine.
What a family! No wonder Isabella was prickly and defensive, with parents like this. He couldn’t get her away fast enough.
“Lord Martin, I’d like a word,” Lord Ferdinand said beckoning Martin to follow him.
Reluctantly, Martin rose and bowed to Isabella before he turned to follow the earl out of the hall into the dimly lit corridor. “What did you wish to discuss, my lord?” The sooner he could return to his bride, the better.
“By marrying my family, you are allying yourself to the Duke of Normandy’s cause, even if we’re all technically still vassals of King Stephen. Is Winchelsea ready to take up arms in this fight?”
All Martin wanted was an end to the violence that had ravaged the English countryside for far too long. It had become clear that King Stephen was far too weak to win against Henry, so there was only one path forward that Martin could see. If he and the other Cinque Port barons threw their weight in with Henry, perhaps it would be enough to end this godawful mess.
“We are, my lord, and the other Cinque Port barons are with me.” Martin had given clear instructions to his knights and men-at-arms before he left to see Lady Eleanor in the fall. They were prepared for battle, and they had what they needed to survive a siege for at least six months, if it came to that, which he prayed it never did.
“Good. Very good,” Lord Ferdinand said, clapping Martin on the shoulder. “Well, you’d best get back in there. Your bride awaits her wedding night. Don’t let her eat you alive.”
“I think I can handle myself, my lord. I plan to take my time and win her over.” He only had a fortnight, give or take, but if in that time he had not succeeded, he would do as she asked and let her choose a husband more to her liking.
Lord Ferdinand grunted. “Good luck with that.”
Martin smiled tightly. “Thank you, my lord.”
“And with that, I bid you good night.”
Martin bowed and made his way back into the great hall.
He returned to the table to find that the countess had slipped into his chair and had her talons dug into Isabella’s arm. “…and I expect blood on the sheets in the morning. If you don’tconsummate this marriage, I’ll tell the duchess and let her deal with you,” the countess said in a carrying whisper.
“My lady,” Martin said, quietly interrupting. “Your daughter and I will become acquainted in our own good time. She’s no longer your concern, and how we spend our wedding night is none of your business.”
His mother-in-law turned the full force of her poisonous gaze on him. If looks could kill, he’d be pinned to the wall with a sword through his heart. Fortunately, he didn’t give a fig what this woman thought. He and Isabella were boarding his ship and sailing for Winchelsea in the morning, and good riddance.
He turned to his wife, who blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time. Perhaps no one had even spoken to her mother that way, at least in her presence. “Isabella, I believe it is time for us to retire,” he said, offering a hand to help her rise. Fortunately, his bride appeared as anxious to escape as he was. She stood and took his arm without complaint.
“Goodnight, Adelaide,” she said, ignoring her mother completely.
“By your leave, my lady,” he said to the countess, nodding his head and offering a cold smile. He didn’t wait for her response before leading Isabella from the great hall and through the corridors to the guest room where he was staying.
“Thank you,” she murmured almost too quietly to hear once they were out of earshot.
“What was that?” he asked, not quite believing the sweet words that reached his ears.
“I said ‘thank you’ for rescuing me from Mother. Don’t make me repeat it again, or I’ll truss you up like wild boar and roast you on a spit.”
He nodded gravely, tamping down his delight at this small triumph. He’d chipped a tiny hole in her defensive wall, and withtime and luck he would open a gap wide enough for him to climb through.
Chapter Five
The door oftheir marital bedchamber thudded closed, and Lord Martin locked the latch. Every hair on Isabella’s head stood on end. She was trapped in a bedroom with a stranger she disliked and didn’t trust, one who had made no secret of wanting to bed her. All that stood between him and claiming his husbandly rights was a flimsy promise. It was a relief not to have been subjected to a bedding ceremony with the whole household looking on, but that small kindness was no guarantee that he would stay on good behavior.
Her trunk sat beside the door, a sign that she could not seek refuge in her old room, no matter how terrified she might be.
