One week later
Rosamund needed to be alone. After all that had come to pass, she needed to engage in mindless activity that would take her mind off the tumultuous arrangement Alan wanted.
She knelt down beside the herb garden, hardly caring about the dirt. She pulled weeds, ripping them out by the roots as she attacked the garden with her own private frustration.
I won’t do this, she thought to herself. Alan cannot force me to commit adultery. The thought lent her comfort as she tore out another handful of weeds.
From behind her, she heard horses approaching. Rosamund stood and brushed off the dirt, wondering who the guards had allowed to enter Pevensham. She strode past the garden and walked into the inner bailey. It was then that she saw Owen de Courcy riding towards the stables, accompanied by half-a-dozen armed men.
No. She nearly groaned aloud. The last thing she wanted was Alan’s younger brother intruding right now.
Owen’s expression grew sly when he saw her. He dismounted and gave the reins over to a stable lad. Then he motioned for his men to stay back as he walked across the castle grounds, already behaving as if he were Lord of Pevensham. Rosamund remained in place, knowing that it was safer to remain standing here with her guards nearby than to retreat inside the donjon.
‘My brother, it is good to see you,’ she lied, extending her hands in greeting. She was well aware that it annoyed him to hear her call him that. ‘I apologise that you caught me working in the garden.’
‘Rosamund,’ he said warmly. Owen took her soiled hands and squeezed them. In his smile, she saw a man who believed himself superior to everyone. His gaze lingered too long upon her body, and she pulled her hands free.
‘Forgive me, but I should go and tell Cook to prepare more food for you and your men. And I will let Alan know you are here.’
‘You needn’t bother. I should like to surprise my brother.’ His gaze shifted behind her and hardened. A sense of warning crossed over her, and when Rosamund turned, Warrick de Laurent was standing there, his hand upon his sword. His blue eyes narrowed upon Owen, though his expression remained neutral. Even so, she didn’t miss the subtle challenge between them.
‘And who is this, Rosamund?’ Owen behaved as if Warrick were a stranger. ‘He appears familiar somehow.’
Such a liar he was, when Warrick had already revealed Owen’s intentions. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he wanted Alan dead and would use any means necessary to achieve that purpose.
She veiled her thoughts and answered, ‘This is Warrick de Laurent. I believe you met him at my wedding. He was one of the guests.’
A thin smile spread over Owen’s face. ‘You were betrothed to him once, were you not?’
Married, more like. But she refused to play cat and mouse with this man. It was easier to sweep aside his assumptions. ‘Alan summoned him to Pevensham.’ She dusted off her hands and nodded to the men. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I must—’
‘Not yet.’ Owen blocked her path, probing further. ‘Why is he here, Rosamund?’
‘That is between my husband and Warrick. I have no part in it.’ She forced herself to look up at him.
His expression was knowing, as if he was aware of her deceit. Warrick took a step closer, silently offering his protection. For a moment, the two men locked gazes in a stare.
Then Owen changed tactics, asking, ‘How is Alan? I came to see if my brother is improving.’
Which wasn’t at all true, but Rosamund let it go. She simply murmured, ‘He is the same as ever.’ Only God knew how much time her husband had remaining. But every instinct within her warned that Owen was here to hurt Alan. She could never allow that to happen. Warrick ought to guard her husband at all times, for she did trust him as a fighter. Without thinking, she took a step towards de Laurent.
The faint smile upon Owen’s face unnerved her. ‘Do I frighten you, Rosamund?’
‘Of course not.’ It was a lie, and he knew it.
He touched her cheek, stroking her chin. Owen’s touch made her skin crawl, for it was not at all brotherly in nature. ‘Would that I could take away your fear. Perhaps we should go riding, and I could convince you that I am harmless.’
The thought filled her with revulsion. ‘I have no time for riding.’
This time, she pushed her way past him, wishing she could run from the man. She had always known he wanted everything that belonged to Alan. And yet, she had not truly understood the depths of his jealousy.
He truly might kill his own brother. And worse, she knew she could do nothing to stop him.
She hurried as far away from the men as she dared, moving towards the kitchens. Only when she was free of both men did she look back.
Warrick’s hand was firmly upon the hilt of his sword. He was speaking quietly to Owen, and she had no idea what they were talking about. Was he warning the man to stay away from her? The thought should have been reassuring, but she didn’t want Warrick provoking a fight.
It was better to leave now, to ensure that she had no part in this. Just as she was about to retreat inside, her maid, Berta, caught up to her. ‘My lady, are you all right?’
She nodded. ‘I am.’ She knew she ought to reassure her maid that Owen de Courcy would not dare to harm them. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to lie. ‘We have guests, and we must prepare for them.’
Rosamund entered the kitchen and told the cook of Owen’s arrival, instructing the servants to prepare more food. Amid the bustling noise and cooking, she took solace in a corner of the room, breathing in the scent of rosemary and sage.
Warrick claimed that Owen had hired him to kill Alan. She was grateful that he had refused, but her husband was still in danger. It might be best to ask several men to stand guard outside Alan’s room. Only then could she be certain he was safe.
All around her, the invisible web seemed to tighten. She no longer knew how she could keep everyone protected within Pevensham—her husband, her people, and especially herself.
But she could not remain passive and allow Owen to take command of Pevensham. Her husband lacked the strength to fight for his estate, so she would have to do so. There was still time to add reinforcements to her soldiers. If she could learn who was loyal to Alan and which men supported Owen, then she could make the right decisions.
Rosamund straightened as she stared outside the window at their property. Why was she allowing others to pull her life in directions she didn’t want to go? This was her home now, and she was entitled to live here for the rest of her days. She had no desire ever to return home to her parents—not after all that had happened years ago.
But in spite of the inauspicious beginning, Pevensham had become hers. She loved the people who dwelled upon the land, and she felt protective of them. Owen could not be allowed to destroy this place.
He will never leave you alone, a voice inside whispered. Even if he takes a wife.
She knew that Owen coveted her, and the thought strengthened her resolve to fight her own battles.
Her husband’s solution—to conceive a child—appeared simple upon the surface, but it was fraught with danger. Every memory of the pregnancy was a knife buried into her heart. She had loved her daughter, though the baby had never taken a single breath. She had cradled the cold infant against her breast, shattered by grief.
And Alan wanted her to face that fear once again.
No. She would find another way to protect the estate, even if it meant surrounding herself with guards at all times. Nothing could convince her to attempt another child.
Not even with Warrick, the man who had fathered her daughter and knew nothing of it.
* * *
‘Will we return to Montbrooke in the morning?’ his man-at-arms, Bennett, asked. Both Bennett and Godfrey had been his companions since they’d fought together in Normandy.
Warrick accepted a cup of ale from a serving maid and shook his head. ‘Our task here is not yet finished.’ He eyed Owen de Courcy, who had seated himself upon the dais beside Rosamund. The man was entirely too comfortable giving orders, and Warrick tensed when he saw Owen touching Rosamund in subtle ways. The man’s hand brushed against hers when he reached for salt, and he tried to feed her a portion of cold meat and cheese.
From across the room, Warrick saw her pleading look for help. She was trying to be courteous, but had barely touched her food. He kept eye contact with her and stood from his table among the men. ‘This has to stop.’
‘Where are you going?’ Bennett asked.
‘Lady Pevensham summoned me.’ He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘She wishes me to escort her to her husband’s chamber.’
Godfrey eyed him with a doubtful look. ‘She is still eating. Are you certain?’
Warrick took a cloth and wrapped up his own portion of bread and cheese, tucking it away in a fold of his cloak. ‘I am.’ He nodded to the men and walked away.
He strode across the rows of trestle tables until he reached the dais. Then he bowed before Lady Pevensham, letting Owen believe that he was also paying tribute to him.
‘My lady, I received a message that your lord husband desires your presence in his chamber.’ When Owen started to rise, Warrick added, ‘I will escort you there, for your safety.’
The man stared hard at him, and Warrick kept his hand upon the hilt of his sword. Let him believe that he was trying to infiltrate the castle with the intent of murdering Alan. It was the furthest thing from the truth.
‘Shall I come with you, Lady Pevensham?’ Owen suggested. His hand moved to her shoulder, and Rosamund stood to extricate herself from his touch.
‘That won’t be necessary. If my husband wishes to speak with you, I will send word.’
Owen and Alan had already met, following his arrival earlier in the day. Owen had claimed that he only wanted his brother to be well, filling the man’s ears with lies. Warrick had remained nearby, though a part of him wondered if he had any right to be here. This was not his battle to fight.
But Rosamund was caught in the middle of the two men, and he had no intention of allowing her to fall prey to Owen’s desires, unholy as they were.
He allowed her to leave first, keeping a short distance behind. Before he left, he sent a dark look towards Owen, making it clear that the man should not follow.
Rosamund walked up the spiral stone stairs and Warrick shadowed her. Before she reached her husband’s room, he said quietly, ‘A moment, if you will.’
She leaned back against the wall. ‘What is it?’
‘Your husband has said that he does not trust his men to keep you safe after he dies. He fears they will turn against you.’ He paused a moment. ‘Do you agree with this?’
‘They would see no reason to defend Pevensham from a family member. Especially if Owen is the heir.’ She lifted her face to meet his gaze. ‘They would not see it as being disloyal at all.’
That was the answer he had suspected. In a low voice, he said, ‘You will need to find a sanctuary after Alan is gone. If Owen believes that you are a threat to him—especially if he fears a pregnancy—your life will be endangered. You need an ally who will protect you.’
‘There is no child,’ she argued. Her face flushed, and she added, ‘And even if I did agree to my husband’s plan, it might not be possible for me to conceive another.’
‘Do you intend to stay here, then? Do you believe Owen would leave you alone?’ In the dim light, he saw the fear upon her face.
‘No. But there are many of my people who are loyal to me.’
‘Owen could send them away.’ Warrick nodded towards the bedchamber. ‘But more likely, he would try to manipulate you. You are aware that he desires you.’
She nodded. ‘He behaves in that way. But it seems more that he covets me as Alan’s wife. He treats me like a jewel, an adornment to his rank, not as a person.’
‘What about your family? Could you return to your father’s house?’
‘I could, but I will not.’ Not after everything my father did, she thought. ‘I am entitled to a dower portion, according to the law. Owen cannot take that from me.’
‘He is a man who will do as he pleases. And he will take whatever he wants.’ He hoped she understood that and would take the necessary precautions. Yet, it seemed that Rosamund was stubborn enough to fight for her own inheritance.
But after he had seen the way Owen stared at her, Warrick wasn’t about to walk away. Not now.
Alan wasn’t strong enough to protect her—but he was. He could also take Rosamund away to Pevensham’s property in Ireland. It was far enough away that Owen might not bother pursuing her.
God’s blood, why was he allowing himself to become entangled in this? It wasn’t his battle to face.
And yet, when he looked at Rosamund, a tightness seized in his gut. Her soft face, framed by silken dark hair, held him spellbound. He wanted to cross the space and wrap her hair around his wrist, bringing her mouth to his in a bruising kiss.
He could do more than that, if he agreed to Alan’s bargain. The thought awakened a darkness inside him, for he had desired Rosamund from the first moment he’d seen her. He didn’t care if she conceived a child or not. All he wanted was to touch her, to show her what a mistake she had made. He knew he could bring her to fulfilment, making her cry out in ecstasy. And her husband had given full permission for this sin.
‘What do you want to do?’ he asked quietly.
‘I want you to find out which guards are loyal to me, instead of Owen. I am willing to pay you if you will ask your men-at-arms to watch and listen.’ She folded her hands in front of her, trying to behave as if she were unafraid. ‘I will stay here for whatever time Alan has remaining.’ Her expression faltered. ‘And when he is gone, I will surround myself with guards.’ She hoped to visit the serfs and ensure that they had enough to eat and were content, even when Owen took possession of the land.
Warrick’s face twisted with doubt. ‘Owen intends to remain at Pevensham until your husband is dead. He will take you prisoner and ensure that you do not have an heir. And after he has claimed Alan’s lands, he will claim you.’ He studied her closely, adding, ‘Unless you want my help.’
‘How? There is nothing you can do.’
‘After Alan dies, I could bring you to Ireland. I have friends there, one of whom is acquainted with the MacEgan tribe. They could give you sanctuary.’ The MacEgan King had four brothers and their family controlled vast lands in the south. There was no safer place for Rosamund.
Rosamund motioned for him to follow her into a smaller chamber. No one was inside, and she closed the door behind them. ‘You want me to flee and abandon my responsibilities.’
‘Owen will control this land by law. You can do nothing to threaten his inheritance unless you give birth to Alan’s heir.’
‘I have already said that I will not lie with you, Warrick. I cannot do that to Alan. It’s not the sort of woman I am.’ She kept her voice hushed, and in the darkness, he could barely see her face.
‘You were mine first,’ he insisted. ‘Or did you forget the vows you spoke?’ The words were bitter, despite his efforts to keep them neutral.
‘I had no right to make those promises. We were never truly married.’ Her voice was flat, as if she hardly believed the words she was speaking.
‘Say what you will, we were bound by holy vows and by flesh. The Church would have recognised our marriage.’
‘And if I had not obeyed my father, you would be dead.’ She stared back at him. ‘I did what I had to.’
‘Do you love him?’ he asked quietly.
‘Yes.’
From her tone, he sensed that it was a different love, almost that of a sister towards her brother. And yet, she had given her body to Alan, consummating their marriage. The thought brought about a surge of jealousy. Lord Pevensham had possessed her for nearly three years, and nothing would change that.
Warrick started to turn away, but then she caught the edge of his tunic and pulled him back. In her eyes, he saw the turmoil. She looked torn about whether to speak. He didn’t press her for answers but simply waited.
At last, she whispered, ‘Alan is a friend, a kind man who did his best to care for me.’
Her hand touched his, and Warrick held it for a moment. Her actions and words warred with one another, as if she didn’t know what she wanted.
‘You’re asking me to walk away and let you be Owen’s victim,’ Warrick ground out.
‘No.’ With a shaky sigh, she added, ‘I do want you to stay and guard me from him. I trust you more than any other man.’
Even if she had refused, he had no intention of leaving her behind. He reached out and touched her chin, lifting her face to look at him. In her green eyes, he saw fear, determination, and a faint trace of longing.
The years had not destroyed the love that had once been between them. It had only buried it. And when he looked into her eyes, there was no denying his hunger for this woman. He understood her tangled emotions, but he saw the solution, just as Alan did. A child would invalidate Owen’s claim to Pevensham, as long as they could keep him safe.
‘What if...we allow Alan to believe that we have been intimate, even though both of us know the truth?’ she murmured.
He took her hand and brought it to his throat so she would feel the way his pulse had quickened. Her fingers were soft against his skin, and God help him, he wanted this woman. ‘Are you afraid of me, Rosamund?’
She closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I know you would never hurt me.’
‘But I never promised not to tempt you,’ he said quietly. ‘I want you still, even after all this time.’
He drew her hand lower to his heartbeat. She didn’t even try to pull away, and he unlaced his leather armour and tunic, placing her hand upon his bare skin. ‘If you want a child, I will give you one,’ he said quietly. The very thought aroused him. Here, in the darkness, he envisioned her lying upon his sheets, her naked body exposed to him. He wanted to taste her skin, to watch the gooseflesh rise as he caressed her breasts. She would moan as he suckled her breasts, arching into him as she grew wet between her thighs. Warrick gritted his teeth, trying to force back the rush of need.
She held her hand against his heart a moment longer before she drew it away. ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘I will not take that risk. Let Alan believe we tried and did not succeed.’
God help him, he wanted more than she would give. With each day he spent at her side, he longed to accept Alan’s proposition. Her husband was going to die, and Rosamund would be at the mercy of Owen de Courcy.
He could not stand by and let it happen.
He had been given a chance to reclaim the woman he wanted above all. Alan wanted her to be protected after he was gone, and the man was right—there was no one else who would guard her the way Warrick could.
The more he considered it, the more he saw the sound reasoning behind Lord Pevensham’s proposition. All the man lacked was an heir of his own. But Rosamund would not surrender easily. She guarded her body as fiercely as she did her heart.
He followed Rosamund out of the room and into the corridor. ‘What will you do about Owen?’
She paled but lifted her chin to face him. ‘I am aware of his...eagerness for Alan to die. But Owen would never do anything to endanger himself. Too many would suspect his involvement if Alan died whilst he was here.’
They continued towards her husband’s chamber and Rosamund opened the door. The moment they stepped inside, Warrick saw Alan lying prone on the bed. His limp hair was tangled around his face, and his hand hung over the side of the mattress.
Rosamund gasped at the sight and hurried to his side. A moment later, her shoulders relaxed. In a low whisper, she murmured, ‘Thanks be to God, he is only sleeping.’
But he understood that this was the burden that hung over her each day. She never knew whether Alan would survive the day and lived in fear of the moment he would die. Worry lined her face, and she chose a stool near the hearth, as if keeping vigil. Warrick took another chair and sat across from her.
‘I want Owen to leave,’ she admitted beneath her breath. ‘But I do not think he will. He is naught but a vulture, circling his brother.’
‘I agree—he will not leave until Alan is dead.’
Her face grew pained at the idea. ‘My husband is a good man, and he does not deserve any of this. Would that he could live out his days in peace.’ In her green eyes, he saw tears welling up. Whether they were tears of grief or of frustration, he could not say. But her shoulders slumped forward, her head bowed.
A few moments later, Alan stirred upon the bed. ‘Rosamund, is that you?’
‘Yes, my lord.’ She moved to his side and helped him to sit up. ‘Would you like any food or wine? Berta left you some cheese and bread. Or there is venison, if that would tempt you.’
He gave a weak smile. ‘I am not so very hungry, but I would be glad of your company.’
Warrick remained on the far side of the room, leaving the pair of them to share a private moment. Although Rosamund fussed over her husband, Warrick noticed that she treated him like a friend, not a lover. There was no sense of intimacy with the man, but he saw the way Alan doted upon her.
He was about to quietly leave their chamber when Alan called him back. ‘Please come and sit beside us, Warrick.’
He crossed the room but did not sit. Instead, he stood behind Rosamund in a respectful distance.
‘My brother has come to inspect his inheritance. I told him today that Rosamund is with child.’ Alan eyed his wife, who appeared horrified at his proclamation. ‘I want everyone to believe this child is legitimate.’
‘A child who does not exist,’ Rosamund shot back. ‘Why would you say this, Alan?’
‘I know that you are reluctant, ma petite, but I command this of you. This is the best way to ensure the protection of Pevensham and you.’
Although Warrick understood why the man had lied to his brother, Alan’s revelation would undoubtedly bring danger to Rosamund.
Then Alan lifted his gaze to Warrick. ‘The time has come, de Laurent. What is your answer? Will you sire a child for us?’
* * *
A chill of fear rose upon Rosamund’s skin, for she did not know the answer he would give. Though Warrick would never take her against her will, she was also well aware that he held the power to seduce her. Her treacherous mind remembered the weight of his body upon hers. He had been a warrior all his life, and she had traced the hardened muscles of his torso beneath her fingertips. Everything about him unnerved her, causing her emotions to fall into chaos.
She didn’t trust herself any more.
‘I leave the decision to Rosamund,’ Warrick answered. ‘But if I do this, I have conditions that must be met.’
‘As do I,’ Alan said. The man’s complexion was pale, his hand ice cold when Warrick clasped it in agreement.
Their arrangement shook her to the core. This was about far more than conceiving an heir. Did her husband honestly believe she could simply lie back and let another man join with her, for the sake of a child? Even if it meant protecting Pevensham and herself? No, not at all.
Rosamund had locked away her feelings of the past, obeying her father to save Warrick’s life. She could not dare lower the boundaries that shielded her heart.
She backed away from the two men. The need for physical distance overrode all else. It infuriated her that her husband viewed her as a pawn, to be sacrificed for the greater good.
A small voice inside warned, That is all you have ever been. A pawn, sacrificed for a greater strategy. Not a woman with any strength or will of her own.
Her father had treated her in this way, and now her husband was behaving in the same manner, for the sake of an heir.
In all honesty, the idea of another pregnancy terrified her. Every time she imagined it, she thought of the terrible labour pains and the lifeless body of her daughter. Rosamund closed her eyes, forcing back the memory.
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I am sorry, but I just...can’t.’ Not only because of her pregnancy fears, but also because she could no longer allow herself to become a silent shadow. If she let them manipulate her like a lump of clay, she would lose the last pieces of herself.
Her husband turned to stare at her, and for the first time, she saw a darker side to Alan. No longer was he a benevolent nobleman—instead, he was a baron fighting to save his estate from the enemy.
‘You will do as I command.’ His voice was rigid, emotionless. ‘In this Rosamund, I give you no choice. You must conceive a child or all is lost.’
Anger flared up within her. How could he take the choice from her? He was her husband, but she was not a vessel to be impregnated and set aside.
‘What of my honour?’ Rosamund demanded. ‘You expect me to submit to another man, setting aside my marriage vows?’
‘Yes,’ Alan answered. His voice was like a knife, fiercer that she had ever heard before. ‘I have put aside my own personal feelings for the sake of this estate. You must do the same.’
Rebellion brewed within her, and she turned back to Warrick. He said nothing at all, but he made no effort to hide his interest. His searing gaze slid over her like an invisible caress.
When she stared back at her husband, making no effort to hide her wrath, Alan’s eyes were frosted. They locked in a silent battle, but her husband’s next words stopped her cold.
‘I have given you time enough to grow accustomed to the idea. But now, we must act. You will have Berta prepare you this night. I will come to your room and dismiss her. Then de Laurent will enter through the passageway that adjoins our chambers. No one will see him, and no one will know he is there. Everyone will believe that we lay together.’
Her heartbeat quickened at his orders. She had always known of the small passageway that connected their two rooms. When they were first married, Alan had shown it to her, in the event that she ever needed him.
But from what he’d said, she understood that he would not allow her to create a pretence. Dear God, did he intend to witness the joining? Her stomach twisted at the thought. It was bad enough that he had proposed this idea, but did he intend to ensure that the act was carried out?
Saints help her, she couldn’t do this.
‘How can you simply give me to another man?’ she whispered. ‘Do I mean so little to you?’ The truth was, her fear of lying with Warrick had nothing to do with the sexual act. It was the fear of her own response.
He had the power to make her yield with the softest touch. If she took a single bite from this forbidden apple, it would irrevocably change her marriage.
Though she did not look back at Warrick, she could feel his stare burning into her skin. Awareness rippled over her body, and she wished she held the power to withstand her own unspoken desires.
‘You mean far too much to me,’ Alan said softly. ‘And that is why I brought Warrick here. I know you wanted him years ago, and I believe he will treat you gently.’ His eyes hardened into grey steel. ‘You will send for a bottle of our best wine from the cellar. And I intend to drink all of it tonight.’
She bit her lip, understanding what he was saying. But even so, she knew there was a little power she could still wield. Right now, she needed every weapon at her disposal to protect her heart from the man standing behind her.
No longer could she stand here and listen to them dictating her life. She gave a single nod and glared at Warrick before striding out of the room. From behind her, she heard her husband say, ‘Tell me of your conditions.’
She didn’t want to hear them. Right now, she wanted to break something, to rebel against the two men who were trying to control her. It felt rather satisfying to slam the door behind her when she left Alan’s chamber.
Rosamund wished she could return to the Great Hall and walk outside, feeling the cool spring air. But if she did, she would only be faced with Owen.
How could Alan have told him she was with child? The lie endangered her very life. Even if her husband remained alive a little longer, Owen would find a way to hurt her.
Or had he said this to ensure that she never left Warrick’s protection? If so, then his ruse had worked.
She stormed back to her room, feeling the satisfaction of another door slamming. Berta’s eyes widened, and she asked, ‘What has happened, my lady?’
‘My husband has decided that he wishes to visit my bed this night.’
Her maid gave a concerned look. ‘Is he...able, my lady?’
‘He seems to think so,’ she snapped. But it burned through her that she was to be the sacrificial lamb, that Alan had no intention of letting her elude his plans. And worse, that Warrick was in agreement.
Was this meant to punish her for her choice? Was he attempting his own form of vengeance?
If so, then he would regret it.
She knew not if Alan intended to witness their joining, but she wouldn’t put it past him. Yet, if she was forced into this, she refused to feel anything. She would numb herself to all else, finding a way to guard her traitorous body.
And most of all, her heart.
* * *
Rosamund spent the rest of the day staring out of the window. The spring winds had grown cooler, and outside, a bright amber moon rose over their lands. But the beauty of the night did nothing to dispel the fear rising inside.
She wore her shift and Berta had brushed her hair. It fell into dark waves down to her waist after being in braids for most of the day.
Her maid appeared agitated for some reason, and finally Rosamund asked, ‘What ails you? You are not yourself today.’
Berta’s face tightened, and she hesitated. ‘My—my son has been taken by Owen de Courcy. He claims he wishes to train him as a squire.’ But there was no happiness in her maid’s expression—only fear.
‘Do you want me to speak on your behalf?’ Rosamund suggested. ‘I can tell Owen you do not wish Martin to be fostered with him.’ Though the man might not listen, she was willing to try.
Berta appeared dismayed by her offer. ‘Oh, no, my lady. It is kind of you, but no.’
She didn’t entirely understand why her maid refused, but for now, she would let it be. Berta knew that she would intervene for her, if needed, and that was enough.
When there came a knock at the chamber door, Rosamund stiffened. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she fought to quell her anxiety and frustration. Berta answered it, and Alan stood at the threshold. He was clad in a silk tunic and chausses, and she noticed the lines of pain on his face. The act of walking to her chamber had exhausted him, though he had tried to feign strength. She wanted to help him return to his own room, but she could not shame him in front of her maid.
Rosamund dismissed Berta, and Alan waited a moment before approaching the window.
‘Are you ready, ma petite?’
‘No.’ She crossed her arms and glanced outside. ‘In truth, I was contemplating whether to throw myself from this window since the pair of you seem intent upon rearranging my life.’ She eyed the distance to the ground before turning back. ‘You could discuss the plans for my funeral Mass, if you wished.’
A laugh escaped him, and Alan sat upon the bed. ‘By God, you are the most stout-hearted woman I have ever known, Rosamund. I do love you.’
‘Then don’t ask me to do this.’ She leaned against the wall, pleading with him.
Alan started to stand, but she raised a hand, motioning him down. He had exerted himself enough by walking this far.
‘I know that you were forced into our marriage, and I am grateful for every moment of it.’ His gaze softened upon her. ‘I wish I had the means to give you a child, my Rosamund. But God did not grant me that.’
He reached for her hand, and she took it, feeling the shadow of guilt. This man deserved a wife who loved him in truth. Though Rosamund had tried to be the woman he wanted, she had never desired him as much as Warrick. Alan was not at fault for their forced marriage, and she had never blamed him for claiming her. Instead, she had harboured resentment towards her father.
‘I know you desire a child,’ she answered softly. ‘But what if it doesn’t happen?’
His palm tightened over hers, and his grey eyes held sadness. ‘It happened once before, Rosamund. With him.’
All the blood seemed to freeze within her body, and she paled at his statement. Before she could speak, he touched her lips with a finger. ‘Do not deny it. I knew you were already with child when we wed. Your father told me.’
It overwhelmed her to realise that he had known her darkest secret all these years. ‘Then why did you wed me?’
‘Because I wanted you,’ he admitted. ‘I was willing to have you in any way I could. And I was willing to pretend that your child was mine.’ He caressed her cheek and offered, ‘I know Warrick can give you a child because of that. And I would do everything possible to protect this estate and you.’
Rosamund didn’t know what to say. For three years, she had kept the secret of the man who had fathered her stillborn child, believing that Alan would be furious to learn of it. But he had known all along. She wasn’t certain how she should respond to the knowledge.
‘I am sorry,’ she said at last.
‘You loved him,’ he answered. ‘And you believed you would marry him.’ He shrugged and reached for her shift. ‘There is nothing to be done about it now. Except, we know he is capable of giving you a child—and that is what we need most.’
His hands trembled upon her shift, passing over her body before he reached the hem and lifted it away. She stood naked before him, and he leaned forward and kissed her.
‘Lie down, Rosamund,’ he murmured. He walked with her to the bed and pulled back the coverlet. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I was always proud to call you my wife.’
Her body grew cold, not only from the chill, but from his actions. ‘Alan, please. Don’t ask this of me.’
He drew her to lie down, his face serious. ‘Our time together grows short. Let me die knowing I have done everything I could to take care of you.’ He kissed her lips and then moved away from the bed. ‘Stay here, and do as I have commanded.’
Her fingers dug into the sheets, but she understood how weak he was and how difficult this short walk had been.
When he walked to the opposite wall, he moved aside a tapestry and found the latch that opened up the passageway. A moment later, Warrick appeared.
‘Be gentle with her,’ Alan cautioned. And then he disappeared into the passageway, closing the door behind him.
Warrick let the tapestry fall back into place. He wore only his braies, and the moment he arrived, she rolled herself up within the sheets, hiding her body. In the firelight, his body gleamed. He was the most magnificent man she had ever seen, and against her will, a flood of memories washed over her. She could almost feel his hands upon her skin, his breath mingled with hers.
He stood motionless at the entrance, his expression unreadable. Only his eyes revealed a trace of heat. Beneath the coverlet, her skin prickled with sensitivity, her breasts rising as if he had caressed them.
Rosamund looked away, trying to gather her composure. But she was too aware of his gaze upon her. And she knew she had to say something, to remind him that she had no intention of submitting to him.
‘I don’t want—’ Rosamund started to say, but Warrick raised a finger to his lips and pointed towards the wall. Her eyes widened. Did he mean that Alan was hiding himself in the passageway to witness this?
The very thought unnerved her. Why would her husband do such a thing? But then, she supposed he didn’t trust her, and with good reason. She might have obeyed him in the preparations, but she was not going to go through with this.
Warrick crossed the room with slow steps and stood in front of the bed. She had wrapped herself up so tightly in the sheets, she was helpless to move.
He sat down, his weight pressing against the mattress. She didn’t know what his intentions were, but he leaned in. His voice was a silken whisper against her ear. ‘Do you want to know the conditions I forced Alan to accept?’
Her mouth went dry with anxious fear, and she didn’t answer him. Her heart pounded within her chest, her pulse racing.
Warrick drew his hand over her hair, smoothing the length of it. The light touch evoked a longing she couldn’t deny. His blue eyes were searing in his desire, and he murmured, ‘I asked for three nights with you.’ He leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers.
The light kiss seared her skin, and she turned her face. ‘I have already told you that I do not want to lie with you.’
He nodded. ‘So you did. And I have sworn to Alan that I will not claim you unless you ask it of me.’
Her shoulders relaxed slightly at that. ‘Then...you are wasting your time here. For I will not change my mind.’
His thumb moved down her face to her lips. ‘Perhaps not. But if you do not obey Alan, he has said he will find another man to take my place.’
‘No,’ she blurted out. She didn’t believe her husband would do such a thing. ‘I would never allow that.’
He loosened the sheet and untucked it from beneath her, allowing her more freedom of motion. ‘If he believes that you are willing to let me touch you, it is enough for now. He agreed that we need not consummate anything for the first two nights.’
‘Or any night thereafter,’ she shot back. With the sheets fully covering her body, she sat up and swung her legs over the side. ‘I told him I would obey, but we both know it was a lie.’
He reached out to the nape of her neck, his strong fingers threaded in her hair. ‘Was it?’
She was startled when he kissed her again with no warning at all. At first, she kept her mouth firmly closed, but he tilted his mouth, nipping at her lips in an invitation. His hand began to massage the base of her neck, finding the tightness and tension. She wanted to moan in thanksgiving, it felt so good. And God above, she’d forgotten what it was like to kiss this man.
He knew how to take her lips, how to use his mouth to awaken her desires. Her mind was spinning, her emotions in turmoil—especially with the question of whether Alan was still watching them.
Warrick continued to kiss her, with lazy effort, as if he had all the time in the world. Her mouth grew swollen as it went on and on. Then he slid his tongue inside her mouth, and her skin grew heated. It was as if she could feel his hands upon her skin, even though it was only his kiss.
He moved his mouth to her throat, and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. For a moment, she managed to collect herself, and she murmured, ‘It doesn’t matter whether you kiss me or not. I will not change my mind about this.’
She had to fight him with all her resolve. The sleekness of his tongue was like the echo of his body moving inside hers. She couldn’t stop the rush of feelings, nor her body’s desires. Though they had only lain together a few times, she had never forgotten the way he had made her feel.
And he had been her first husband. Regardless of what her father had done to drive them apart, Warrick had spoken vows and consummated the marriage. There was no denying it.
Not once in three years of marriage had Alan awakened her to such sensations. Her eyes welled up with tears, for she hated herself for feeling anything at all. She wanted to remain closed off to this man, as if she were enclosed within stone.
But his hand moved beneath the bedsheet, caressing the lines of her bare flesh. The moment he did, she shivered from the heat.
Warrick never stopped kissing her, and after a time, she felt herself falling back into the girl she had once been. She had loved this man then and had desperately wanted to stay married to him.
A heaviness closed over her, tears burning in her eyes as she began to kiss him back. Never had she imagined it would come to this. With all her heart, she wished she could turn back the years and make different choices.