How to Marry Your Wife by Stella Marie Alden Page A

river’s edge. We’ll follow shortly.”
    The young man gave a quick nod and disappeared down the hall.
    Thomas smiled as he approached his sleeping wife. Her gold curls covered her face and he moved them aside to give her a kiss.
    “Get dressed quickly.”
    She jumped up and her eyes went wide. “What’s amiss?”
    “Nothing for beautiful maids to worry about.” He patted her head.
    Hell’s devils . Her face grew red and her perfect little mouth pursed into a frown. He broke in before she could let loose. “I promise that I’ll explain better once we’re on the road. Look, your clothes are clean and almost dry.”
    Her face softened and he let out a breath of air. In the future, he’d never use that phrase again. She rose and he studied every fine-looking curve while she donned her tunic and grabbed their few belongings. With a hand to the small of her back, he followed her closely out the door, stepping between the simple folk who still slept upon the ground.
    “I should like to ride astride on my own mount, today. The innkeeper’s daughter learned of the state of my thighs and she gave me this.” She held up a plump pink pillow in the shape of a ‘U’.
    He nodded. “Only if you promise to let me know if you become sore.”
    “You’ll be the first to know, after me.” The smile she gave him nearly broke him asunder.
    What if he lost his bet? What good was gold and land without Merry by his side? He couldn’t allow that to happen. Despite the danger, she’d have to stay at his side until she relented. They mounted and joined his men. Once they were well clear of the inn, he began a jaunty song.
    My Merry, my merry wife.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    The fairest of fair, my life.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    She wed me, she wed me
    But God’s blood won’t bed me.
    Down derry, down down down.
    She giggled. “All right, Thomas, I have warned you.
    Sir Thomas, he stole my heart.
    Down derry, down derry pie.
    He left me and did depart.
    Down derry, down derry pie.
    He swears he won’t leave me
    But I can’t believe he.
    Down derry, cries my eyes.
    The sun glistened on the dew of the newest of spring green leaves and more men joined them who waited along the river’s edge. A dark bearded knight, Arthur, put a lute on his lap and Jacob jumped in for the next verse.
    Oh, madam, how cruel are you?
    Down derry, down derry down.
    Sir Thomas, his balls are blue.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    You wed him, you wed him,
    Is more than time you bed him.
    Down derry, down down down.
    The men roared with laughter and Merry’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red, making her even more desirable. Harold-the-Younger managed to burst in with the next verse. He’d best do it well if he ever wanted to be accepted as a knight. A brave lad.
    A lady must disagree.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    And force a man upon his knees.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    But under her ire
    Lights a mighty fire.
    Down derry, down down down.
    “Well said. Well said. Here, here, here.” Thomas joined the men as they lifted their shields and banged upon them.
    The lad leaned over on his mount, picked a wild nosegay by the side of the road, and handed it to her. Not to be outdone by a squire, one by one, the others did the same.
    Astonishing.
    He’d never known any of them to possess a gentler nature. She stuck each colorful sprig into a braid in her hair, until she turned into a bright forest nymph.
    The verses went on for miles, until they were all hoarse and out of rhymes. By the time Thomas slowed the tempo of the last verse, the sun was warm and high in the sky.
    King Edward gave his commands.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    So off I went to foreign lands.
    Down derry, down derry down.
    I love thee, I beg thee,
    Forgive me, dear Merry.
    Down derry, down down down.
    They stopped at a clearing, dismounted for lunch, and ate of the bread and cheese packed by the innkeeper’s wife. Their skins were full of a stout, but sweet, mead of