Forbidden Night with the Warrior

by Michelle Willingham

  She lay with his warm body atop hers, feeling alive and eager. Warrick rolled to his side, a sleepy smile on his face. Her body quaked with a soft shiver of the aftershocks. He traced the outline of her body, and she wound her arms around his neck. Though she was still afraid of what would happen when they were caught, at least they had each other.

  Warrick continued to caress her skin, kissing her throat. ‘Would that we could stay here for hours.’

  She caught her breath when his mouth covered her breast again. A shudder of pleasure rocked through her, and she asked, ‘Where will we go?’

  ‘North. Ademar’s family lives in Dolwyth, and I believe they will help us.’

  ‘My father won’t give up,’ she said. ‘He likely has men searching at this very moment.’

  ‘But he will not find you for a few weeks,’ Warrick countered. ‘I know how we will avoid his guards.’ She didn’t understand, but he helped her don her shift. When she stood up, he pointed towards the north. ‘We will take a ship and sail the rest of the way to Dolwyth. I will sell our horse, and your father’s men will track that by mistake.’

  Rosamund wasn’t certain if his plan would work, but it was all they had. She moved towards him, embracing Warrick hard. ‘I do not regret a single moment of this day.’

  She could only hope that she never would.

  Chapter Five

  They sailed along the coast for days while the sunlight rimmed the waves with gold. Warrick rowed until his arms were numb, but he wouldn’t have traded a moment of this time with Rosamund. Sometimes he would rest, and she would open her arms to him. He made love to her on the open water, and the rocking of the boat mimicked their loving.

  He couldn’t get enough of her, but he dared not take the time to stop and rest. The days and nights blended together, until he was nearly trembling from lack of sleep. But there was no choice but to continue. Once or twice, he did fall asleep by mistake. He said nothing to her, but he could tell that the waves had taken them off course. They were moving against the tide, and he didn’t know how much time they had lost.

  Rosamund’s father would pursue them, and Warrick knew his punishment would be worse than anything she could imagine. Like as not, his own father would exile him, leaving him to survive without a home. Until now, Edward de Laurent had ignored his presence, behaving as if Warrick did not exist. Soon there would be a confrontation—and he knew not what his father would do.

  But he would face any hell upon this earth for the nights and days he had spent in Rosamund’s arms. She sat at the bow of the boat and sewed for hours upon end. Sometimes she would look back and smile at him. And it was enough.

  When at last they reached the coast of Dolwyth at sunset, she offered him a weary smile. ‘I will be glad to be on land again.’ He rowed their tiny boat into shallow waters before he tied the vessel to the wooden pier and helped her out. She smiled at him and held him close. ‘We need to find somewhere to stay for the night.’

  ‘I feel as if I could fall asleep right here on the sand.’ After so many days without sleep, dizziness washed over him. But Warrick tucked her arm in his and led her across the strand towards the open meadow. Ademar had told him of his father’s settlement, a motte and bailey structure that lay a few miles from the coast. The grasses were long and brushed against their knees as he guided her in that direction.

  But when they neared Dolwyth, he saw the glow of torches lining the walls. His instincts flared, for there were too many soldiers there.

  ‘Rosamund,’ he murmured, tightening his grip upon her hand. ‘I don’t think we should take shelter there tonight.’

  ‘But why? I thought—’ Her words were broken off when she came to the same realisation. ‘It isn’t possible for them to have found us so soon.’

  ‘Unless they knew where we were going.’ He couldn’t hide the grimness in his voice. It was entirely possible that they had forced the truth out of Ademar. The lad was young and unable to fend off harsh questioning.

  God help them, he didn’t know what to do. Dolwyth was a small fortress, with hardly more than fifty men and women. And from the looks of it, there were far more people there now. He drew her to sit down in the grass. In the darkness, he could barely see Rosamund’s face, but he sensed the worry in her.

  ‘Even if they knew where we were going, we went by sea,’ she insisted. ‘It should have been impossible for them to catch up.’

  ‘There was a time when we were blown off course.’

  Because he’d been too weak to remain awake each day and night they had sailed. And now they would have to face her father sooner than he wanted to. But he had spoken vows to Rosamund before God and consummated the marriage. Harold de Beaufort would have no choice but to accept their union.

  She knelt before him, and Warrick drew his hand into the dark silk of her hair. ‘Kiss me,’ she pleaded. ‘I’m afraid of what will happen in the morning.’

  He could make her no promises, but he would not deny her this night. Warrick reached for the laces of her kirtle, loosening her bodice. She guided his hand to her bare breast and lay back in the grass. He stroked her, memorising the curves before he lowered his mouth to suckle her.

  They both knew there was hardly any time remaining, and he wanted to claim her swiftly. When Warrick drew his hand between her legs, she was already wet for him. He needed to be inside her, and he fumbled with his clothing, hurrying at her urging.

  Then he plunged deep and was rewarded with her shuddering cry. Her hands moved beneath his tunic, raking his back as he thrust. This time, their lovemaking was far different. He wanted to brand himself upon Rosamund, so that no man would ever touch her again.

  ‘I love you,’ she blurted out, gripping his hair as he plunged and withdrew. ‘Now and always.’

  He couldn’t say the words, but he swore, ‘No one will ever part us, Rosamund.’

  She wept as he took her over the edge once more, and finally he emptied himself into her, groaning as their bodies became one. Her breathing was hitched as she lay beneath him. He dried her tears, holding her as the moon rose above them.

  ‘I don’t want to lose you,’ she whispered.

  But he knew the battle for this woman would be hard won. And if her father had indeed come after her, Harold would do anything to separate them.

  For this night, they would remain outside the gates. Warrick withdrew from her body and arranged a blanket from his cloak. She lay down upon it, and he enfolded her in the wool, wrapping it around both of them. The night air was crisp, but her body was warm from their lovemaking.

  He knew not what the morrow would bring, but for now, he would lie with this woman in his arms.

  * * *

  Rosamund awakened to the sound of horses approaching. She sat up and saw that Warrick was standing over her, fully armed with a sword and shield in his hands. Though he was only one man, she knew he would let no one harm her.

  Her hair was a tousled mess around her shoulders, but she stood up to face the men. As she had feared, her father was leading the group. Harold de Beaufort appeared strangely calm, as if he had been waiting for her. He lifted his hand in a silent signal, and the soldiers surrounded them.

  Her father studied her, eyeing her rumpled gown and unkempt appearance. Then he ordered the men, ‘Take him.’

  ‘Do not harm my husband,’ Rosamund blurted out. She took Warrick’s hand in hers, though she suspected it was futile trying to protect him.

  ‘He is not your husband,’ Harold said quietly. ‘Tell whatever lies you wish, but you are already betrothed to Alan de Courcy.’

  Warrick fought against the men closing in. He raised his shield, keeping her behind him. But he murmured in her ear, ‘Go with your father, Rosamund. I will be fine.’

  She didn’t believe that at all. Her father’s calm demeanour suggested
that he had already decided what to do with Warrick. ‘If I go, I don’t trust him not to harm you.’

  In the end, she had no choice when the men separated them. Rosamund cried out as two soldiers seized her by both arms and jerked her away from him. Warrick fought hard to get to her, but another soldier struck him across the skull with his shield. He lost consciousness, and she screamed when he dropped to the ground.

  But the soldiers held her so tightly, she could not go to him. ‘What have you done?’ she demanded of her father.

  ‘He will be dealt with soon enough,’ Harold said. ‘You will come with me, and we will discuss what will happen now.’ He motioned for her to join him on horseback. The two soldiers forced her onto the saddle, though she fought them.

  Warrick still had not regained consciousness, and fear roared through her. She wanted to run to him, to know if he was alive. Was he bleeding?

  ‘I will go nowhere with you,’ she shot back. Though she tried to dismount, the men held her there.

  ‘His life depends on your obedience,’ her father said quietly. He signalled for his men to pick up Warrick’s fallen body, and they placed him face down on horseback. A moment later, he stirred, and she was able to breathe again.

  Tears of relief streamed down her face, and she pleaded, ‘Let me go to him. I need to know if he will be all right.’

  Her father guided his horse alongside hers. He seized her wrist in a firm grip. ‘Come with me, Rosamund. I have a great deal to say to you.’

  He took the reins of her horse in his other hand and forced her to follow. She looked back at Warrick, and a moment later, her father’s soldiers surrounded them. Wildly, she wondered if it was possible to free him somehow. But no, there were too many men. She tried to calm her mind, and she realised that defying her father would only make matters worse. They needed to speak with one another calmly and come to an understanding. Though she doubted if her father would kill Warrick, she did not know how Harold would punish the man she loved.

  Her throat closed up at the thought, and she lowered her head. ‘I will go with you willingly, as long as your men do not hurt Warrick.’

  Harold said nothing but continued riding towards the fortress. ‘You have no choice, Rosamund. When you decided to leave with him, you surrendered your free will. Now you will do exactly as I say, or he will suffer for every command you disobey.’

  Her heart thundered at the warning, for she knew he spoke the truth. He had absolute power, and Rosamund wept silently. Her only hope was that obedience would pacify him.

  Harold led the men into Dolwyth, lifting her down from her horse. To the soldiers he commanded, ‘Put our prisoner in chains.’

  She forced herself to watch as they dragged Warrick towards a wooden tower. There was a wall beside it with chains and manacles. He regained consciousness at last, and they hammered the pins into the manacles. He was powerless to move, but he straightened and met her gaze. In his eyes, she saw his quiet reassurance.

  But she feared the worst.

  She loved this man and it hurt so deeply to imagine being parted from him. For that reason, she touched her fingers to her lips and turned back to her father. His life depended upon her decisions, and she would do anything to protect him.

  Harold led her inside towards a small chamber with a single chair and a pallet. There were no windows, and she rather thought it was her own prison.

  ‘Did you lie with him?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Yes.’ She raised her chin and met his questions with her own stare. ‘We spoke vows within a church and consummated our marriage. He is of a noble family, and I love him.’

  Her father’s expression remained cold. ‘You will tell no one what you have done. Or if you do, I will see to it that you are widowed.’

  She was horrified that he would threaten Warrick’s life. ‘You cannot do such a thing.’

  ‘You made a grave mistake when you decided to defy my orders,’ her father said. ‘And whatever sins you committed with this man, you will not be his wife.’

  I am already his wife, she wanted to argue. In the eyes of God she was. But she bit back her words, knowing they would only fuel his anger.

  ‘I have sent for Alan de Courcy. You will return home with me and await him there. You should pray that he will agree to wed you, in spite of what you have done.’

  ‘I cannot wed him.’ She met her father’s hard stare with one of her own. ‘I am already married, and I may be carrying Warrick’s child.’

  Harold crossed his arms. ‘I will not sacrifice the alliances made for our family because of your foolish actions.’

  ‘I have married him, and it is done now. I care not about your alliances.’

  Her father crossed the room and seized her wrist. His grip was rough, and she fought to keep from crying out. ‘You should care. For his life depends upon your agreement.’

  ‘You cannot kill him.’ Harold would never strike such a blow against a noble family. It would mean war.

  ‘Think you I would not kill the man who stole my daughter’s innocence?’ He spoke with such calmness, she knew he meant it. ‘You will say nothing of this so-called marriage. Or if you dare to defy my wishes, I will see him struck down.’

  Ice ran through her veins at his threat. She had not at all considered her father to be so ruthless. They had been naïve to believe that Harold de Beaufort would allow them to marry without his consent. Without a word, she sank down to the floor, sitting upon the pallet. It felt as if she were breathing underwater, and a rushing sound filled her ears.

  ‘You will obey me, Rosamund. You will return home without question and wed Alan de Courcy, if he agrees. And if you speak one word about a so-called marriage to Warrick de Laurent, I will see to it that he breathes his last.’

  Harold wanted her to lie to everyone, to pretend as if they had spoken no vows. The Church would have to recognise any marriage where vows were given and the union consummated. But there had been no witnesses that night, and her father knew this.

  ‘Edward de Laurent would not let you threaten his son,’ she argued weakly. But in her heart, she knew she was cornered. Her father was furious, and Warrick would suffer the consequences.

  ‘Edward sent his own men to help mine. He has given me full authority to punish his son as I see fit.’

  She didn’t want to believe such a thing could be true, but she had seen for herself the lack of love between father and son. Something had caused the distance, and whatever the reason, it unnerved her.

  Harold’s gaze narrowed upon her. ‘You will tell Warrick de Laurent that you are going to wed Alan de Courcy. Convince him that you do not want him.’

  ‘He will not believe it. Not after what we endured to travel this far.’ She drew her knees up to her chest, feeling numb inside. ‘Why does it matter to you who I marry? An alliance with Edward de Laurent has its own worth.’

  ‘You defied me in front of everyone. My daughter ran away with her lover, making a mockery of her family. I will not stand for it.’

  She swallowed hard, not knowing how to save herself and Warrick. ‘We could both do penance for our disobedience, and then have a proper marriage.’

  Her father backhanded her with his fist, and pain radiated through her jaw. She lay face down on the pallet, in shock. Never in her life had he beaten her.

  ‘There will be no marriage between you and de Laurent,’ he shot back. ‘You dared to embarrass our family. If you were not my eldest daughter, I would put you in a nunnery and wash my hands of you.’

  Hot tears bled against her cheeks, and she said nothing. Her stomach clenched with fear, and her jaw still ached from his blow.

  ‘Look at me, Rosamund,’ he demanded. ‘Tell Warrick that you have changed your mind. As long as you do not confess to speaking your own vows, the marriage does not exist.’
/>   But it does, she wanted to say. Their marriage was as real as any other.

  In the lines of his face, she saw the unrelenting fury. He would never forgive her for this, and as punishment, he would give her to another man. She didn’t know if it was possible to endure such a thing.

  ‘What will happen to Warrick?’ she whispered.

  There was no sympathy on his face. ‘It depends on you. He will be whipped for taking you away. His father ordered twenty lashes.’

  ‘His own father?’ She had expected fury from Harold, but she had never imagined it from Warrick’s sire.

  ‘Yes. Afterwards, he will be sent away, and you will return with me to wed de Courcy.’ He sat down in the chair, and his face hardened. ‘Warrick will never touch you again. You will make sure he knows this, or I will double the lashes.’

  She could feel the hatred rising within her. ‘You want me to lie to him.’

  ‘Would you not do this, to diminish his suffering? If you say you love him.’

  She rose from the pallet and faced him with all her anger. ‘I do not understand why you are so eager to sell me off into marriage, despite my feelings.’

  Her father opened the door. ‘I will tell the commander to give forty lashes, then. Would you like to watch?’

  She felt sick to her stomach. Dear God, no. ‘Let him go, Father. I beg you.’

  There was no mercy in his eyes. Instead, he turned and shut the door behind him. The moment he was gone, her hands began to tremble. She had never felt so alone or helpless. This was about pride and wielding power, she realised. He cared more about appearances than his own daughter.

  Though she had not been close to Harold, never had she seen this side to him. God help her, she didn’t know how to stop this nightmare. All of this was her fault. She should have known better than to cross swords with her father. And now, Warrick would bear the scars.