Chapter 16
Ash
‘… and may God bless your union, of course.’
Ash bit back a sigh as he bid farewell to the alderman standing beneath the gates. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I hope your journey is swift.’
He watched as the man rode away. The first thing he had said – and his departing remarks – had been words on Ash’s upcoming marriage.
He re-entered the solar feeling deeply unsettled. Agnes and Olly looked up from where they’d been sat beside the fire, playing dice.
‘How,’ Ash said, as he slumped into a chair, ‘does everyone know about our marriage?’
Agnes pursed her lips. ‘Are you unused to being the subject of gossip?’
‘Lord, no,’ Ash said. ‘Everyone sees fit to talk about the mad, wounded Barden son. But like this … I do not like the feeling that I am dragging others into it alongside me.’
‘I am to be your wife,’ Agnes said. ‘It is too late for all that.’
‘And you do need to plan your wedding feast,’ Olly added.
Ash would rather have crawled back into the hole that Agnes had pulled him from. It must have been obvious on his face. Agnes gave him a sympathetic look.
‘You know we must,’ she said.
‘Do not forget – you must make it seem as if you are a doting couple,’ Olly added. ‘You are in dire need of the practice before Agnes’s family arrives.’
‘Meaning?’ Ash folded his arms across his chest.
‘You intend to convince them that this is a love match, yes?’ Olly asked. Ash nodded. ‘There is the problem. You do not exactly behave as if you are quite wildly in love.’
‘That should be simple enough,’ Agnes said. ‘Just compliments and lingering looks surely?’
‘What else?’
‘What do you mean, what else? So long as I do not beat him in the hall for being a stubborn ass—’
‘Hey—’
‘—then I fail to see why there should be a problem.’
Olly gave them both an unimpressed look. ‘Agnes,’ he said at last. ‘Kiss him.’
‘Excuse me?’ Agnes squeaked, looking – for the first time, Ash thought – genuinely distressed.
‘You do not have to—’ he began, getting to his feet.
‘She will, in fact, have to,’ Olly said. ‘If not when her family is here then at the very least during the wedding. You need to make it believable.’
Agnes seemed to have composed herself. ‘That is true enough,’ she said, ‘but I had rather planned to … to …’ She trailed off.
‘Had you intended to just attempt it in the moment?’
Agnes nodded, lips tight.
‘I am not just a thief, you know. I am a minstrel, too. A performer. Do you think I just leap in front of an audience and play?’
Ash could not help but laugh at that. Knowing Olly, that was exactly how he did play. He kept that thought to himself as Olly continued.
‘No,’ he said, ‘I practised. We rehearsed. Which is what you two ought to be doing if you want your family to believe that you do, in fact, have feelings for him other than mere tolerance.’
‘I do not merely tolerate him.’
‘Then give him a kiss and show me.’
Agnes sighed, pointedly rolled her eyes, then stood and placed a kiss to Ash’s cheek. ‘There.’
Olly burst into laughter. Ash unfolded his arms. ‘What now?’
‘I have seen more convincing kisses from nuns,’ Olly said. ‘Again. Like you mean it, not like you are afraid you will contract some sort of awful disease from him. He is not that bad a kisser, I assure you.’
Agnes sighed again. She was clearly losing her patience. ‘How do you suggest I kiss him, then?’
Olly’s eyes flashed. Ash had barely time to think oh, no before Olly swung himself out of the chair, got to his feet, crossed the room and tugged him into a burning kiss.
Ash nearly forgot where they were and what they were doing, lost to the feel of Olly’s mouth, the touch of his hand to his back, the strength of his arms around him—
‘Ah …’
Olly released him. Ash righted himself. Agnes was watching them. Her cheekbones were red.
‘That is how you ought to kiss him,’ Olly said, wiping his mouth obscenely before returning to his chair.
Agnes swallowed heavily, watching them both but saying nothing.
The dizzying feeling in Ash’s stomach quickly died down, replaced with awkward embarrassment. ‘Oliver.’
‘What? I was merely demonstrating.’
‘I do not think that our guests will be pleased should we go on like that at our wedding feast.’
‘Then they are very dull,’ Olly said. ‘What are you planning for the event?’
‘I’ve no idea. The last wedding I attended was years ago, with Father. It was the usual: feasting, drinking, dancing—’
Olly snorted.
‘What?’ Ash demanded.
‘Dancing? You?’ Olly laughed, eyes twinkling.
‘And what of it?’
‘Do you recall those banquets Father used to throw?’ Olly said. ‘And young Susan, Lady Combe’s daughter? You crushed her foot, the poor flower.’
‘I did not—’
‘Unless you have suddenly invested time into dancing since we parted, I assume you are just as poor a dancer now as you were when we were young.’ Olly looked him up and down, making Ash’s cheeks heat. ‘Or have you? Are you engaging in illicit dancing in the darkness of the night?’
‘Of course not.’
Olly smirked. ‘What a shame. Agnes, I hope you have a pair of thick boots to wear. Or perhaps you should borrow a pair of sabatons.’
Agnes laughed as Ash sighed. He was about to insist that his dancing was not so bad, when he caught the look on Olly’s face. Gone was the jocularity – the flirting from before. He looked a little sad. A little bitter.
‘Well …’ Olly said at last, ‘I am sure you will have a wonderful time. And I shall find some way to occupy myself.’
Ash stared at him. ‘You do not wish to attend?’
‘You want me there?’
‘I want you here. Regardless of the fact that I cannot stand being parted from you—’ Olly made a choked noise, which Ash did not respond to, instead taking his hand.
‘You are part of this keep, now. We have not yet discussed your future here, Olly. You are the brother of a lord. You may not be titled, but you are nobility. No matter of crime can erase that; if it did, then there would be hardly any lords at all. There are many roles in the keep you could take on. A valet, a chamberlain …’ He clung to Olly’s hand.
‘If you wish for that, then these sorts of …’
‘Performances?’
‘Events are worth attending. If just to get my allies used to your presence.’
‘Oh.’
‘You do not have to decide that role now, of course,’ Ash hurriedly added. ‘But you will need to decide if you wish to attend the wedding. I—’ He shot a look towards Agnes. ‘We want you there.’
Olly gave him a searching look. Apparently happy with whatever he saw in Ash’s expression, he turned to Agnes.
‘And you?’ Olly asked. ‘Would you be happy with my presence?’
Agnes looked between them. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I cannot very well bar you from our lives—’ Olly opened his mouth, but Agnes spoke over him: ‘And neither do I have any desire to,’ she finished, loudly. ‘I am keen to get to know you better.’
Ash raised his eyebrows at that, turning to Olly. Olly’s lip was twitching upwards – an expression Ash knew all too well.
‘Well, I am sure that can be arranged,’ Olly drawled.
‘Olly.’
‘What?’
‘You are terrible.’
Olly grinned. ‘So I have been told.’
Ash rubbed at his face. He hadn’t even realised he was picking at the scar until there was a hand on his wrist forcing him to stop. Agnes gently pulled his hand down. She looked at him fondly – then her eyebrows creased.
‘Good Lord,’ she said, examining him more closely. ‘I may have failed at being – what was it – desperately in love with you – but you do very much look as if someone has kissed you senseless. Let me—’
She reached out, then straightened his tunic and brushed his hair back into place.
‘There.’ She stepped back. Ash could still feel all the places where she had touched him. ‘Better.’