Adelaide’s eyes widened. “Heavens! I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s true! But you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
As the ship made its final approach to the dock, the familiar sights and sounds of his hometown washed over him as he saw them fresh through Isabella’s and Adelaide’s eyes. The portbustled with endless commotion. It was the heart and soul of the town, a center of commerce and raucous activity. The stench of fish and sea salt mixed with the enticing smells of meat roasting and bread baking at local taverns and inns. All paths led to Castle Street, the main thoroughfare leading up to his home. He was deeply proud of Winchelsea, and he hoped Isabella and her sister would come to love it as much as he did.
Horses awaited them when they disembarked, along with several carts for transporting their belongings up to Winchelsea Castle. He was glad they wouldn’t be cooped up in a carriage. He wanted to show Isabella and her sister all the town had to offer as they progressed up the street. It would also provide him with an opportunity to show off his new wife, now Baroness of Winchelsea, so that the people could get their first view of her.
In fact, quite a crowd gathered around their ship as they disembarked. He paused on the gangplank, leaning on a wooden crutch with Isabella beside him, and waved to the onlookers.
“Welcome back, my lord,” one of them called out. “What happened to your leg?”
“It’s a long and thrilling tale, and I promise to come down to the docks and tell it. But at present, I must convey my wife and her sister up to the castle. May I present Lady Isabella, Baroness of Winchelsea, and her sister, Lady Adelaide?”
The two ladies in question waved and smiled as applause, huzzahs, and whistles sounded all around them.
“Welcome to Winchelsea, my ladies,” someone shouted above the din.
“I promise you will all have plenty of time to get to know them in the days to come, but at present, we must go to the castle to greet my mother. If you will all excuse us.”
With many calls of congratulations and felicitations, they mounted their horses and started up the cobblestones of Castle Street.
They made something of a parade as they rode toward the castle at a leisurely pace. The crowd from the dock followed them, and people came out of their stone and half-timbered shops, inns, taverns, and houses to gawk at the new lady of Winchelsea. He had intended to point things out along the way, but they were too busy smiling and waving for him to give a guided tour. That would have to wait for another day.
As they rode through the castle gates, the boisterous crowd fell away. “That was quite a greeting you just received. The people of Winchelsea seem very excited to meet their new lady,” he told them.
Isabella smiled as she dismounted. “It’s heartening to see how beloved you are by your people. They wouldn’t be half as excited about me if they didn’t think the world of you.”
He handed a stable boy his crutch, then dismounted gingerly, being careful not to put any weight on his injured foot.
His brother Lance came striding out into the courtyard just as he found his footing, looking as tall, dark, and handsome as ever. “What in heaven’s name happened to you? No, don’t tell me. On your wedding night, your wife fended you off with a hot poker.”
Martin couldn’t help but laugh at how close that was to the truth. And for once, Lance’s jibe didn’t bother him. With Isabella by his side, his brother’s jests slid off him as if he was wearing invisible armor. “I had a run-in with the Earl of Norfolk, if you must know. It’s a long and tangled tale. Let’s go inside, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Aren’t you going to make introductions first? Who is this vision in green? Don’t tell me she’s your wife. She’s far too pretty for you.” Lance bowed over Isabella’s hand, raising it to his lips.
Martin narrowed his eyes and tamped down the urge to order his brother to step back. “Did you think I was going to marry a cave troll?”
Rising, Lance shrugged. “More or less.”
Taking a deep breath, Martin swallowed a sharp retort. “Lance, I’d like you to meet my wife, Lady Isabella, and her sister, Lady Adelaide. I’d appreciate it if you could at least make some attempt to be civil in their presence.”
Martin’s brother bowed over Adelaide’s hand before saying, “It is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance, ladies. I hope you don’t mind Martin and me. I love my brother, but he’s always been so lucky in everything that I have to deflate his big head from time to time.”
Isabella walked to Martin’s side and wound her hand around his waist. “He is insufferable, isn’t he?” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “It’s a good thing I love you, big head and all.”
Despite the audience, he couldn’t help but nuzzle her. “And I love you too, you glorious vixen.”
“Ugh. You two are disgustingly adorable,” said Lance, stepping back and grimacing. Then he smiled down at Adelaide, and offered his arm to escort her. “Lady Adelaide, may I accompany you inside? I don’t think I can stand to watch another moment of their marital bliss.”
Adelaide smirked in a very un-Adelaide-like way. They began walking.
Martin followed his brother and sister-in-law into the castle with Isabella on his arm. As she looked around, assessing, a knot formed in his chest. What if she didn’t like it? What if she truly did find it cramped and provincial? She’d spent years in the company of royalty. How would Winchelsea Castle measure up?
“Do you like what you see, my love?” he asked, hoping his anxiousness didn’t come through too clearly in his voice as they paused just inside, taking in the familiar entry hall with its tapestries and statues, wide stone steps leading up to the living spaces on the second floor.
“I love it. I’ve had enough of enormous, drafty castles full of conniving people. This is exactly right for me.”
She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, and they followed Lance and Adelaide into the great hall. He saw the hall as if for the first time, imagining how it might look to his bride. Braziers were scattered around the long trestle tables to take the chill off the winter’s day. A merry fire burned in the hearth at one end. It had a lintel carved with mythical beasts. Colorful tapestries showing nobles frolicking in flower gardens covered the walls, adding a promise of spring in the midst of winter. All in all, it was a far less-forbidding space than the icy great hall at Bamburgh.
