Page 21 of An Ill-Made Match

This time, Roland took one swig, then passed the cup to her. Eden took a hearty draught and then passed it back to Roland for him to finish. He slammed it back down on the table when it was done. Eden wiped her mouth with her kerchief in the absence of a napkin and looked up to find his friends still blinking at her, as if not quite able to believe their eyes.

“It’s… er… the Lady Eden, isn’t it?” asked Sir Edward, giving her an awkward bow. “Your servant, Sir Ned Bevan.”

“We just call him Bev,” Roland added.

“Sir Edward,” said Eden, who could not imagine addressing him as Bev or even Sir Ned any time soon.

“And I’m Sir James Attley,” said the other who now pulled on a tunic and was looking a lot less discomforted. “At your service.”

“Sir James,” said Eden coolly. She inclined her head, unable to curtsey from her current position in Roland’s lap.

“Bit of a turn up for the books,” said Sir Ned, with a questioning look on his face.

“As you say,” Eden responded dampeningly. She hardly wanted to encourage this line of enquiry.

“If we’d known it was to be a marriage feast, we’d have accompanied you, Roland,” piped up Sir James plaintively.

“Didn’t know myself,” shrugged Roland. Eden felt her face grow tight. As if aware of her tension, Roland’s hand slid from her hip to her lower back and rubbed her there reassuringly, as he spoke. “It was a spur of the moment thing. You know how impulsive I can be.”

Eden tried not to notice the way Sir James’s gaze was riveted to Roland’s hand massaging her lower spine, or the skeptical look on Sir Edward’s handsome face. Instead, she concentrated on breathing steadily and not going into hysterics. She’d known this part would be excruciatingly embarrassing, and it was nothing less than she deserved, she told herself savagely, for getting herself into this mess in the first place! Her cheeks burned, and she could only imagine how pink her face must appear.

“What’s the order of events today?” Roland asked calmly. While Sir James eagerly filled him in, Sir Edward donned the rest of his clothes and Eden found herself able to breathe easier. Roland’s hand continued to circle at the small of her back, until she found herself relaxing back against him. To her surprise, when Sir James had finished the run-down of events, Roland turned his head and kissed her cheek. She gave a slight start, but managed not to squeak.

“Time for us to go and find our hosts,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to Sir Aubron and find you a vantage point to watch from.”

“Will you compete?” Eden asked in dismay at the idea of being left in the company of strangers.

“Aye,” he said. “But don’t fret. Sir Aubron’s bound to have some womenfolk you can sit with.”

**

Sir Aubron Payne turned out to be a portly man in his fifties with high coloring and a very fluffy head of iron grey hair. He was delighted that Roland had brought his new bride along to his tournament. “Delighted, my dear Lady Vawdrey,” he enthused, bowing over her hand. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife Elizabeth and daughter Gunnilde. We would be very honored if you would sit along with us and watch proceedings.

“I would be very happy to,” Eden lied, eyeing his giggly wife, who looked far younger than his daughter, and seemed to be making eyes at Roland.

“You must sit with the family tonight at the high table, Sir Roland,” said Lady Payne, reaching across to touch the back of his hand flirtatiously. “In the position of honor, as befits the bridegroom.”

Eden watched as he absently rubbed his fingers on his tunic. “I’d rather sit with my friends,” he said, rather bluntly.

“Of course, he would, young rogue,” broke in Sir Aubron cheerfully, before turning to Eden. “But your tender young bride might prefer to sit with us, rather than among the rank and file.”

Roland did not look best pleased with this suggestion. Before she could accept the well-meaning offer, he said abruptly. “My wife sits with me.” He drew off to one side, tugging her along with him. “You’ll sit with the Paynes a while now, and I’ll collect you after the melee.”

Eden nodded, feeling the gazes of their hosts burning into the back of her head. “Yes, that’s fine.”

“And will you watch, wife?” he asked with a gleam of challenge in his eyes.

Eden was taken aback a moment. “I thought that was the plan,” she said. “Sir Aubron said they have set up benches along the far field-”

“I meant,” Roland interrupted her heavily. “Will you look for me in the field?”

Eden’s puzzlement grew. “Well, I doubt I’ll even know anyone else here,” she pointed out. His brows snapped together abruptly, and he frowned at her a moment. Eden blinked back at him, wondering what mis-step she had taken now.

“Just give me a token, Eden,” he said abruptly.

“A token?” What for?

“A kerchief or a sleeve or something.”