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Forbidden Night with the Warrior Page 10


  ‘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 undoubted
ly 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 fe
ar.

  ‘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.’