Page 16 of The Consolation Prize

“I see,” she answered politely. “I have never attended one, so it should be a novel experience.” He nodded but looked distracted and she felt suddenly uneasy. “But perhaps you do not mean for me to attend?” she said, before adding quickly. “I will of course abide by whatever you think best.”

“What else do you imagine I mean to do with you?” he asked as he climbed into the bed. “I shan’t abandon you on the wayside if that’s what you’re implying.”

She looked across at him in some alarm and was relieved to see she had not offended him. “No, no,” she hastened to assure him. “Only that, I was not sure if there might be some point en route you might wish to set me down. After all, I do not know in what part of the country your estate lies,” she pointed out.

He looked evasive. “It’s not on the way,” he said shortly, and Una found herself suddenly doubtful he even possessed an estate. She suppressed the small tingle of alarm this gave her, for if he did not, surely that was against the terms of the competition. With an effort, Una forbore to press him further on the matter.

“Tranton Vale lies north,” he told her, throwing out a pillow and dragging another under his head. “I’ve bought a map and we can mark out those treasure sites you spoke of tomorrow and plan our course of action.”

Una’s heart sank. Assuredly, they were not heading for her husband’s home. Her mind veered away from the risky business of retrieving hidden Northern loot. It seemed she would have little choice in the matter, or indeed any matter until she had made things worth Sir Armand’s time and bother.

4

Armand awoke the next morning feeling a hell of a lot better than he had the previous one. He stretched, then tentatively felt the grazes from his altercation with Fulcher’s hired friends. Fulcher had not wanted to give up Armand’s sizeable share of their winnings from the previous day. It had taken some persuasion to claim his money. Persuasion provided by Armand’s fists.

It seemed his sometime companion thought their gambling racket was now at an end and Armand would turn respectable after his marriage. Fat chance. Still, perhaps the dissolvement of their partnership was timely, if he was now to embark on treasure hunting. Fulcher could not be trusted to divvy up their winnings, let alone within a mile of a treasure trove.

He checked his split knuckles, which were healing nicely. Only then, did he think to turn his head and check the whereabouts of his wife. In the background, he could dimly hear her moving quietly about the room.

“Do you always rise this early?” he asked blearily, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t you,” he sighed. “Besides, we’re making an early start, remember?”

She made no response to this, and from the splashing sounds, he deduced she was washing. He sat up and blinked at the sight of her hunched over the basin, in what he could only suppose was her shift. He had never seen a shift quite like it, for it was fitted to her form to an almost scandalous degree, and the thin material afforded him an enticing view of her backside and those rounded thighs he had admired so much previously.

He cleared his throat and drew his legs up to mask his body’s obvious response. Una pressed a drying cloth to her eyes and turned.

“I’m sorry, I did not catch what you said,” she admitted, tilting her head to one side in inquiry.

He stared a moment at the bodice, which was just as sheer and just as fitted as the rest of the garment. Just about managing to tear his gaze from her full breasts and those enticingly dark nipples, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Nothing of import,” he said huskily and reached for a drink of water.

“I’ll just get rid of this,” she said, carrying the basin over to the window. “And pour you some fresh.”

He did not dare watch her progress, or he’d never be able to rise from the bed to wash. At least, not without scaring the daylights out of her. Instead he took a few steadying breaths in and out and tried to think of inane things until his surging ardor cooled. She had taken him by surprise, that was all. He took a deep draught of water before breathing back out again.

Once she’d poured him fresh water and retreated to the far end of the room to dress, he left the modesty of the bedsheets, pulled his braies up over his ass, and made for the basin. He was still hard, but if he presented her with his rear view, hopefully, the princess would remain in total ignorance of the fact.

How typical, he thought wryly, that he would choose this moment to turn weak with lust for her, when she’d lain beside him all last night without arousing so much as a flicker of interest in him. He rubbed the soap flakes through his fingers and gazed down despairingly at his wayward cock, which tented the white linen of his braies, refusing all promptings to go down.

He glanced back over his shoulder and was satisfied Una was occupied shaking out her gown rather than quivering in horror at the evidence of his arousal. He wasn’t fooled by her determinedly down-to-earth manner. Her words may be calmly spoken, but her shallow breathing and panicked eyes told a different tale. Una was skittish around him and likely scared of men. Who could blame her? He knew she had not led the easiest of lives.

Stroking his jaw, Armand decided he needed a shave and retrieved his razor. Then he caught sight of his discarded pile of clothing from the night before. Crossing over to it, he reached into the tunic and retrieved the sizeable pouch containing his winnings from his May Day performance. It had taken him a while to wrangle his fair share from Fulcher’s grasp. He would miss that devious bastard, he thought with surprise. Who would he talk to now on the road? Who would he plot and scheme with round the campfire? Who would have his back in a barroom brawl? He could hardly expect a princess to make him a decent new business partner.

He should be glad to be rid of his association with the weaselly Fulcher, he told himself sternly. It was tiring how the fellow did not believe the brawn should take the lion’s share. He knew full well that Fulcher believed himself to be the brains of their operation, but enough was enough. Hiring four thugs to beat him in an alleyway was not the act of a once-trusted accomplice.

If mourning the loss of his companion achieved something, it was a total quenching of his burgeoning lust. Loosening the strings of his coin purse thoughtfully, he carried it over to the bed, spilling half of its contents onto the blankets. “Here,” he said. “You take half.”

Una glanced around from where she was fastening her front lacings. Her eyes widened at the gleam of gold coins. “I already have some money that Lord Vawdrey provided,” she started, but he waved this aside.

“Just put it in your pack or in your alms purse,” he recommended, retying the string of the pouch, and throwing it on the chair next to his tunic. Then he walked back to the basin and soaped up his jaw to shave. After a moment, he heard the chink of coins and realized she was taking his advice.

“I suppose,” she said, retrieving her saddlebag. “That it would be as well for me to divide it between my purse and my pack. If our wealth is split between the two of us, and then between our baggage, then we have some safeguard if the one of us was unfortunate enough to be robbed.”

He grunted in agreement, dragging the straight blade down his chin.

“Have you ever been robbed before, traveling on the road between tournaments?” she asked.