Someone rapped on the door. Tanon leaped from the bed, groping at her laces. Her head cleared instantly when she looked at the man still sitting on the bed, the sheet draped low on his hips, his flat, corded belly heaving above an enticing swath of golden curls. She met his gaze briefly, reading the frustration in his eyes.
“A moment please!” she called out, frantically working the wrinkles out of her gown while Gareth casually rewrapped the sheet around his torso and propped his back against the pillows.
His eyes never left her as she raced for the door and pulled it open, allowing a trio of women to enter.
“Ah, good, you’re up and about.” Rebecca gave Tanon’s askew hair a looking over, then licked her thumb and smoothed back a stray tendril. She turned to toss Gareth a polite smile, but then looked away, a bit flustered. Eloise and Lorette weren’t handling the sight of him any better. Tanon glanced at him and tingled all the way to the soles of her feet. He lay there, looking like an emperor, all golden and relaxed, his honeyed mane dripping over molded bronze shoulders, taking each of them in with the brooding arrogance befitting his title.
“Well,” Rebecca cleared her throat and clasped Tanon’s wrist. “It’s getting late, you know. We do have to get you dressed for your journey. Come, let’s get you to your room and—”
“This is her room,” Gareth corrected from the bed.
“Of course, my lord.” Rebecca glanced in his direction but didn’t look directly at him.
“And she can dress herself. Aye, Tanon?”
“Well,” Tanon thought about it for a moment then shook her head. “Non.My gowns are very intricate, and there is so much to wear. It would take me hours.”
Gareth sighed, “Very well, then.” When he sat up, Lorette and Eloise turned swiftly toward the door. “You ladies leave while I dress, and then you can return to dress Tanon here.”
He rose from the bed, clutching the sheet at his waist with one hand. Tanon’s maids yanked open the door and hurried outside with Tanon close on their heels.
Gareth’s voice stopped her. “You stay here.”
Tanon pivoted around to face him. “But I…”
The raw command in his gaze stilled the rest of her words. She scowled at him and folded her hands in front of her.
“Shut the door,” he called out to Rebecca waiting in the hall.
“It’s a sight you’re going to have to get used to, wife,” he said, letting go of the sheet and turning to reach for his clothes.
“Impossible,” Tanon murmured, unable to look away from the tantalizing play of muscle that flexed in his thighs and shoulders while he dressed.
Gareth tossed her a grin over his shoulder and pulled his soft leather trousers over a thin breechcloth. He gave the laces low on his belly a firm tug before tying them.
“How’s your head?” he asked, donning another sleeveless tunic.
“Better,” she had to admit, though her voice sounded faint in her ears. She pulled her gaze away from him and looked at everything else in the room. “But I don’t care for you ordering me about. It’s most impolite, and rather brutish.”
He headed for the door but stopped when he reached her. Bending his mouth close to her ear, he paused while she quivered close to him. “I’m pleased the sight of me had such a healing effect on you.” The warmth of his teasing smile echoed in his voice. “And I’ll work on my manners,” he promised before he opened the door again.
Tanon’s nurse gave him a quick looking over when she returned and nodded her approval, though she gave his sleeveless tunic a worried glance.
“We will bring her down to you shortly,” the nurse advised him, sweeping past him with a rich burgundy gown draped over her arm. “There are steaming dumplings and warm mead awaiting you in the great hall, my lord.”
“I’m not leaving.” His grin flashed briefly when she turned to offer him an incredulous stare.
“Surely, you cannot mean to…” Her eyes widened as he strode toward a chair and sat down.
Tanon’s mouth fell open as well. “You don’t mean to watch.”
“Why not? You’re my wife.” When she continued to gape at him, he gave her an impatient look. “Does your father leave the chamber when your mother is dressing?”
“Well…non…but…” Tanon’s nostrils flared while he sat there waiting for her to continue. “I won’t do it.”
He stared ather, his gaze a direct challenge. He’d just finished promising her that he’d work on his manners. And what was wrong with his manners anyway? He sighed. He didn’t want to go back on his word by demanding she do as he wished. He frowned thinking of what a watered-down dolt he was swiftly becoming around her. If he didn’t gain command over his marriage soon, he was going to turn into an indulgent, groveling peacock. He would have his way this morn, but he would need to think of a better way to achieve it.
“Do all Norman women refuse their husbands every request?” he asked, knowing exactly how to get her to stop arguing. “Because I find it disturbing and very…discourteous.”