Della’s limbs shook with nervous excitement. She hastily donned her nightclothes and, with unsteady hands, she tried to tie the laces of the conservative gown. Unable to reach the laces in back, she turned and Ebba did them for her. Digging her toes absently into the soft fur rug, Della shivered and looked around the room. The chamber was the largest in the manor and took longer to heat. She moved by the fire and added more wood. Holding her shaking hands to the flames, she rubbed her palms together.
“Ebba, quick, help me with my hair.” Della pointed at the silver comb the handmaid already carried in her hand.
Ebba went to her mistress, taking the comb to her long tresses, pulling the wet strands back, away from her face. “M’lady, it is fairly anxious you are.”
Della didn’t answer as a serving girl dumped more water into the tub. Ebba held the comb between her teeth and tousled Della’s hair so it would curl as it dried. Then, hitting a knot, she took the comb to untangle it.
“Ebba, do you think he is still angry at me?” Della asked when the other maids had gone. “Do you think he will take me to bed in anger?”
“Hold still, m’lady. I do not wish to pull yer hair.” Ebba sighed loudly. “And nay, it’s likely he is not upset with you. Besides, you have been a wife now, you should be learning how to best cool his anger.”
“What if I haven’t?” Della bit her lip as she tried to keep from moving.
Ebba giggled. “There is nothing to pleasing a man. Just remember they think with their sword most times. If you tame that dragon, then you tame the beast that controls him.”
“Tame a dragon?” Della inquired, puzzled. She wrinkled her nose.
“Yea, it’s when the dragon spouts his fire that he is tamed.” Ebba nodded, confident.
Sword? Dragon? By all the saints! Does Ebba actually believe she makes sense? Della tried to smile at the advice, though she didn’t understand what Ebba was talking about. What came to mind was some of the drawings she’d seen of the sea. Her father had given her some when she was younger. Drawn at the edge of the world were depictions of horrible sea creatures. Della often wondered why anyone would sail if dragons swam in the water.
The handmaiden tugged at a tangle, trying to free it. Della flinched, but didn’t move as a hard pull finally loosened the knot. She supposed that if a dragon came out of her husband, she would have to tame it. She only hoped she didn’t have to get burned by the fire. Brant was usually very hot when she touched him.
“Lord Blackwell has turned his anger elsewhere.” Ebba giggled in assurance.
“What do you mean?” Della froze, trying to make sense of everything and failing. Surely, Brant was not with a mistress tonight. She couldn’t help but wonder at the acute disappointment she felt. If Brant chose a mistress, she should welcome him to it.
“I mean that after you left, he kicked Lord Lester in his arse. M’lord threw him in the moat, saying you were right, he was in need of a bath.” Ebba giggled again, this time louder. “It was quite funny to see him sputtering about.”
“Did he really do—?”
“Leave us.”
Della’s words trailed to a stop as a deep, familiar voice echoed the chamber. The sound was soft and sent her to shivering anew. It was the sound she had been both anticipating and dreading. It was a sound she would never forget.
Della didn’t move, too afraid to turn around, so instead she stared into the fire. From the direction of his voice, Brant stood near the doorway. Her heart beat fast, racing uncontrollably. She took deep breaths, becoming more scared with each passing second.
“Just remember, tame the dragon,” Ebba whispered with an audacious wink. She handed her mistress the comb, giggling as she scurried out of the chamber.
Chapter Ten
Brant closed the door behind the maid and walked slowly toward his wife. He had just been to her chamber only to be informed by Gayla that Lady Blackwell moved into his bed. He tripped over his own feet in his anxiousness to get to her and was a little disappointed not to find her naked and waiting, though he wasn’t really surprised.
He took in the illuminated curves of her body as she stood outlined by firelight. Moving closer, Brant discovered it was too hard to see her figure under the conservative nightgown she wore. There were several layers to it, causing every feminine curve she had to be hidden beneath the material, except that which had been revealed to him by firelight.
Della didn’t look at him as she fingered the comb Ebba had left with her, tracing the tip of her finger delicately over the metal tines. Shivers racked her slender form. Brant brushed his hand over the back of her neck, pushing aside her wet, heavy locks. She gasped, stiffening but not running way. He caressed her again, keeping his touch soft. This time she sighed, shivering. Gradually, he turned her around, watching the fire dance on her beautiful skin. The comb fell soundlessly to the fur rug. Her eyes widened as she directed her gaze past him, refusing to look.