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 falli
ng 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.
Chapter Seven
Warrick waited until he heard the faint click of the door to the passageway before he broke away from Rosamund. Beneath his breath, he murmured, ‘He’s gone now.’
Her cheeks were rosy, her lips swollen, and she didn’t seem to understand what was happening. He picked up her fallen shift and tossed it to her. Then he turned his back and walked towards the table and two chairs on the far side of the room. ‘Clothe yourself.’
There was a moment of silence as if she were still uncertain of what to do. His abrupt departure seemed to leave her confused. She didn’t know that Alan had sworn he would witness the first joining. Warrick had suspected her husband would leave when he believed they were obeying his command, for no man was self-sacrificing enough to witness his wife with another man.
The kiss had been a distraction, but Warrick wasn’t a saint. This woman had haunted him for three years, and he had no qualms about taking anything she offered.
The soft rustle of fabric and sheets told him she had put on her shift once more. Then came her footsteps approaching. Rosamund moved towards the fire and sat down in a chair, staring at him. Her expression held wariness. ‘You made me believe I would have to...’ Her words drifted away, but he shook his head.
‘Alan was watching.’ For a time, he studied the glowing hearth, wondering what to do now. They had to delay for a length of time, making her husband believe that they were complying with his wishes. It was an elaborate ruse, but a necessary one.
More than that, he wanted to regain Rosamund’s trust. Alan wanted him to marry her upon his death, to keep her protected. The man’s health waned with each day, and it was certain he could not last through the end of the year. If Warrick accepted Lord Pevensham’s proposition that he wed Rosamund, he had a chance to gain the land he’d always wanted.
But only if there was an heir.
He sat in silence beside her, letting his mind drift as he tried to find a solution. Rosamund was a woman of honour and would not stray from her vows, no matter what Alan wanted. And yet, Warrick could not deny the temptation before him. Her kiss had pushed back the years of anger and regret, making him crave even more. He wanted this woman, wanted to give her a child and live beside her in this place. He had not lied about the three days Alan had granted them...and yet, she might despise him if he did seduce her.
They were damned, no matter which path they chose.
He looked around Rosamund’s bedchamber, searching for some way they could occupy the time. ‘Have you any dice or a game?’ he suggested. ‘Or is there some other way we could pass the time?’
She appeared puzzled a moment. ‘Do you mean to say that you didn’t intend to...to...claim me?’
He sat back in his chair, his gaze fixed upon her. ‘I wouldn’t refuse if that was what you wanted, Rosamund.’ He did desire this woman, and he had never forgotten what it was like to touch her. Even the stolen moment tonight had brought back the fire between them.
She crossed her arms, suddenly appearing vulnerable. ‘No. It’s not what I want.’ Her voice was the barest whisper, but her downcast gaze suggested something else. She tucked her knees beneath the hem of her shift, hiding her body as best she could. But he knew she had not been indifferent to his kiss, despite her protests.
Warrick stood and walked towards the opposite side of the room. Rosamund pointed towards a low table. ‘There may be dice inside there.’
It was a welcome distraction. He did not know how he would pass the time with her wearing so little and his body craving her touch. But he kept his yearnings under tight command.
Upon the table, he saw an iron box just larger than both of his hands. The metal held intricate carvings, and he couldn’t resist tracing the edge.
‘Alan bought it from a crusader,’ she said. ‘I sometimes wonder how old it is.’
Inside the box, he saw a set of bone dice and other objects from Jerusalem. A small pouch held sand, and he spied a dried olive branch beside it.
He tested the weight of the dice and brought them over. ‘We will cast lots for different wagers. That will pass the time quickly enough.’
And God willing, he would get through this night.
‘What do you want to wager?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He could have told her higher stakes, demanding a kiss or an intimate touch. Instead, he offered, ‘Answers. Whoever wins has to answer a question with only honesty.’
Rosamund seemed to consider it for a moment, and then nodded. ‘So be it.’ She stood from her chair and joined him on the floor beside the hearth. The firelight revealed the thin material of her shift, and beneath the linen, he saw the rosy outline of her nipples. He forced his attention back to the dice, and said, ‘We will roll to see who goes first.’ They both took a turn, and Rosamund won the round. She gathered up the dice and studied him a moment, a slight smile on her face.
‘Ask me a question,’ he said.
She thought a moment and then asked, ‘Why did you come to Pevensham and answer Alan’s summons?’
He took the dice from her, wondering how honest he should be. It had nothing to do with either Alan or Owen...only Rosamund.
‘Because I was angry,’ he admitted. ‘I hated you for leaving me to marry him. And I wanted to see if Alan had made you as miserable as I was.’ He rolled the dice between his fingertips. ‘But he didn’t, did he?’
‘My father forced me to marry a man who was in love with me,’ she said quietly. ‘Alan did everything he could to make me happy. And in time, it was enough.’ Her expression held a trace of sadness. It did seem that, although Alan had given her a home and wealth, it wasn’t the same. Warrick took a small measure of satisfaction from that.
He rolled the dice and then passed them over. Rosamund picked them up and tossed the bone dice, winning a second time. ‘What is it you truly want from all of this, Warrick? Is it land?’
He shrugged. ‘I would like a place of my own, yes.’ One where he could be apart from his father and live in peace. The idea of Ireland was appealing, but it was far more than that. Even if there was no heir, this felt like a second chance at the life he’d wanted.
‘Pevensham would give you that status, wouldn’t it?’
‘It would.’ Warrick let her believe this was about land, not wanting to reveal too much. Then he rolled the bone dice a third time. When she took her turn and won again, he detected a faint note of amusement in her eyes. His suspicion grew, and he took the dice from her. ‘These are weighted, aren’t they?’
Her smile widened. ‘Of course they are.’
‘You cheated.’
But he wasn’t entirely angry with her. He might have done the same thing, truth to tell. Her hair had fallen across her shoulders, and in her state of undress, it reminded him of the fragile moments when she had belonged to him. Right now, he wanted to claim her lips again, to lay her back and surrender to the heated desire rising within.
Rosamund’s expression faltered as if she could read his thoughts. ‘Y-you owe me the answer to another question.’
‘I owe you nothing.’ He tossed the dice aside and rested his hands on either side of her. ‘You, my lady, deserve a penalty for what you did.’
He kept his tone teasing, so as not to frighten her. She softened and smiled again. ‘You should know better than to wager with me, Warrick.’ Her eyes were bright, and she narrowed her gaze at him. ‘There will be no penalty.’
He ignored her and claimed, ‘On the morrow, you will ride with me,’ he
said. ‘Just as we did when we were young.’
Her face faltered at that. ‘The people will talk, if I do this. I cannot.’
‘Then you will ride alone, and I will come as your guard. I will wait for you near the stables.’
She rested her hands upon his shoulders. ‘For what purpose, Warrick?’
He drew his knuckles over the curve of her cheek. ‘Because I’m going to marry you again, after he’s dead. And you need time to know me once again.’
She didn’t move, didn’t flinch at his words. ‘Why do you think I will wed you?’
‘Because Alan commanded you to. And because this time, I won’t let you go.’ With that, he leaned in and kissed her hard.
* * *
Rosamund lay awake in bed for most of the night. Her thoughts were tangled up like knotted threads, and she felt torn between two men. On one hand, Warrick was right. Alan’s days were numbered, and she feared falling beneath Owen’s control. Marriage would indeed keep her protected, and it was what Alan wanted.
And yet, she did not want to bear another child. The thought chilled her to the bone, for in her heart, she feared she could never give birth to a living son. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to push back the darkness.
With a heavy heart, she dressed herself in the darkness. Outside her window, she saw traces of the morning sky battling against the shadowed clouds. The need to escape this place was too much to overcome, so she reached for a familiar bundle and tied it at her waist. Her maid awakened, and she bid Berta return to sleep.
She tiptoed down the stone staircase, the restlessness rising in her blood. Men were sleeping upon the floor in the Great Hall, and she crept around them, hoping no one would see her. One soldier emerged, and she motioned him back, not wanting anyone to follow. He must have come recently from sentry duty, for he wore full armour and a conical helm that obscured his face.
She was not strong enough to open the heavy doors of the main entrance. Before she could try again, the soldier moved in front of her and pulled the door open. He remained silent, and she nodded her thanks.
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