Warrick obeyed, leaning back upon the small bed. Rosamund was intrigued by the power he had given her, and knelt with her legs straddling his waist. She moved her hands over him once again, wanting to explore his body. She touched his chest, and he lifted his palms to her breasts, stroking her nipples until she felt another surge of heat between her legs. And when she started to move lower, his manhood nudged her cheek.
‘Face the other way, Rosamund,’ he said. His tone was imperious, and she didn’t understand what he meant until he guided her so that she knelt with her legs straddling his face. She could feel his very breath against her womanhood.
By all the Saints, was this what he wanted? The very thought sent her needs spiralling out of her control. She lowered her mouth to the tip of his shaft, while he slid his tongue against her cleft.
‘Warrick,’ she cried out, feeling completely exposed to him.
But the sensation was so heady, she could not resist it. She leaned down again, licking the length of him, and he did the same to her until she shuddered. This time, she took him into her mouth, and he began teasing her nodule with his tongue. The fist of desire squeezed hard inside her, and she felt herself rising to his call. Her folds were swollen, her body so ready for him, she could hardly bear it.
She teased him again, swirling her tongue over the head of him, and he began to flick his own tongue over her until a sudden release broke through, her body seizing up while she arched hard and the pleasure crashed over her.
She could not continue like this, and she moved forward away from his mouth. She reached for his shaft and he sat up to give her better access to him. When she mounted him, he slid inside easily. The pressure of being filled by this man was such a delicious friction, she almost wanted to remain motionless.
But he lifted his hips and began stroking her with his erection. She could feel him filling her and withdrawing, and the reverse position bumped him against her sensitive hooded flesh. It was as if he were caressing her from deep inside, and he ordered, ‘Move on me, Rosamund.’
She did, rising up on her knees and sitting down again. He rewarded her by palming both of her breasts, gently pinching them as she rode his shaft.
God help her, she had never felt like this before, even when he had lain with her in the past. She hastened her tempo, and he grasped her waist, pumping into her as she strained against him. His hand moved down from one breast, down to her intimate flesh. He kept a slight pressure of his fingers against her nodule, and the sensation seemed to heighten his strokes. She began to tremble, her body quaking at the onslaught of sensation. Another peak was rising inside, and she reached for it, arching hard as he entered and withdrew. She begged him, ‘Warrick, faster. I need you.’
And he gave her what she was craving. With his arm around her waist, he began plunging harder, slamming her body against his until she shattered in his arms. She cried out his name, coming apart as the sensations flooded through her.
When she grew pliant in his arms, he withdrew and rolled her to her back. ‘You are mine,’ he commanded, driving his erection inside. ‘Now and always, Rosamund.’
‘I am yours,’ she agreed, wrapping her legs around him as he drove inside her. She gripped his hair, meeting each thrust until she felt him grow harder inside her. He let out a gritted sigh and emptied himself into her flesh, sealing their marriage with his seed.
They were joined now as man and wife, and her body still trembled with aftershocks of their lovemaking. He remained buried inside her, cradling her body against his. ‘No matter what happens with Pevensham, I hold hope that one day we will have a child of our own.’
His words brought about an unexpected wave of grief. Tears welled up in her eyes at the memory of her daughter. She had held this secret inside her for so long, never intending to tell Warrick. But he deserved to know the truth—especially now.
She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. Her heart pounded in her chest, her nerves tightening. ‘We did conceive a child.’ Her voice came out softer than she had intended, out of fear of what he might say.
Warrick moved her to her side, his body still joined with hers. ‘It’s too soon to know that, Rosamund. It will be weeks yet.’
He didn’t understand. The brittle sadness swelled inside her, and Rosamund forced herself to say the words she had held back for so long. ‘Our daughter would have been nearly three years old, had she lived.’
There was a sudden tension in him as he grasped what she had said. For a moment, Warrick’s blue eyes stared into hers, and she sensed his anger. ‘Do you mean to say that you were pregnant with my child when you married Alan?’
She hesitated, but gave a nod. ‘I was.’
For a long moment, he said nothing, but when he withdrew from her body, there was a sudden coldness emanating from his mood. He sat on the bed, staring at the partition. Then at last, he said, ‘Did you know it on the day of your wedding?’
She forced herself to face him. ‘I had missed my courses, but I did not know for certain until later.’
Warrick’s body held tension, and she wanted to say something to ease the strain between them. She had known he would be angry, but she had not expected this emotionless response. When his silence continued, she said, ‘My father found out I was not a virgin. He told Alan this before he wedded me. He was willing to accept me as his wife, despite the risk of a child.’
‘Because he hoped to pass it off as his heir.’ The ice in Warrick’s tone bothered her, and she was uncertain of how to ease his anger.
‘I suppose he did, yes.’
‘Why did you never tell me?’ he demanded. ‘Did you think I was incapable of taking care of you and the babe? Were you so bothered by my lack of status that you felt the need to wed a wealthy man?’
‘We have been over this. I was afraid,’ she snapped back. ‘I wanted you to survive, and I made the choices I did because I could not bear to see you die. I would have wedded any man to keep you safe.’
‘But you never told me about our child. Not once did you send word.’ His tone was rigid with undisguised anger. ‘Why would you keep this from me?’
She swallowed hard and admitted the truth. ‘Because you would not have stayed away. You would have come to take me from Pevensham.’
‘I would have, yes.’ He donned his braies and sat away from her. There was a hardened cast to his face, of a man who held resentment for what had happened. And she deserved that.
‘There is nothing I can say to change what happened,’ she said quietly. ‘I was wrong to keep it from you.’
He kept his back to her, his head lowered. Now, she wished she had not spoken of it at all. It had cast despair over a night that should have been meant for loving. And yet, she had wanted no more secrets between them.
‘I lost the child,’ she said quietly. ‘I suppose it was God’s punishment for what we did.’
‘What we did?’ he repeated, staring back at her. ‘We spoke vows to one another and consummated our marriage. How was that deserving of punishment?’ Warrick leaned in closer and added, ‘God does not punish infants. More likely it was Berta who poisoned you and forced you to lose our child.’
She paled, and it felt as if ice now ran through her veins. Dear Heaven, she had never thought of that. Her maid had begun poisoning her husband in the last year. Was it possible that Owen had ordered Berta to prevent any children from being conceived? She had never detected anything out of the ordinary, but the day she had lost her daughter, she had bled and had terrible cramps. The thought was devastating.
‘You may be right,’ she said at last. ‘But no matter the cause of it, she is lost to us. And I am not eager to bear another child, if the truth be known.’ She pulled one of the furs over her naked body, even knowing that it was too late to prevent conception. ‘It frightens me.’
He said nothing, but
there was no denying the dark edge of anger that filled his bearing. He rose from the pallet and went to stand at the far end of the space. ‘You should have told me about our daughter. I had the right to know.’
‘You did,’ Rosamund whispered. She had kept the secret from him, when he deserved to know that he had fathered a child. ‘I am sorry for it.’
His demeanour remained distant, and she knew he was still furious with her. She clutched the furs to her body, wishing she could mend the rift between them. But it would take time for him to trust her again.
‘Sleep now. We will leave at dawn.’ Warrick finished donning his clothes and left her alone. It seemed that he could not bear to spend the night with her now.
After he had gone, Rosamund let go of the tears and wept. She curled up in the furs, wondering if she could ever bring back the goodness between them.
Or if Warrick would ever forgive her.
Chapter Twelve
As he had promised, Warrick took Rosamund away from Kingsmere at dawn. His men, Bennett and Godfrey, kept a slight distance, riding behind them. Although there was no sign of Owen’s men, there was still the chance of pursuit.
Warrick kept his mount alongside hers but found it difficult to look at his wife. Rosamund’s revelation that they had conceived a child three years ago had shaken him to the core. It haunted him to imagine her pregnant and frightened, wedded to another man. And worst of all, a child of his blood had died.
It struck him harder than he’d imagined. Though he had never known of the babe, there was a part of him buried in the church graveyard. He imagined a laughing young girl with Rosamund’s eyes, running towards him. He would have swept her up in his arms, tossing her into the air until she giggled.
But that child was gone. A heaviness weighed down upon his heart, though he tried to push it away. How could Rosamund have kept such a secret over these years? An invisible wall seemed to rise between them, though he held his silence.
‘Do you still intend to take me to my father’s house?’ Rosamund asked him.
‘I do.’ Harold was the only man who dwelled close enough to protect Rosamund while he faced Owen. Warrick saw no other choice.
But Rosamund slowed the pace of her horse. ‘I would rather not see him again. He was the one who forced me to marry Alan. I blame my father for what happened to us.’ She drew her horse to a stop and regarded him. ‘You plan to leave me behind, don’t you?’
He inclined his head. After last night, some distance would be good. It bothered him that she was afraid of bearing another child and did not believe him capable of taking care of them. She had already given up on the idea of Pevensham, and he possessed no lands and no estate.
He was exactly the sort of man her father despised. And he knew that Harold de Beaufort would grant sanctuary to his daughter...but not to him.
Warrick drew his horse to a stop and met her gaze. ‘I will leave you in your father’s care until I have settled the matter of Pevensham. I must go to the king.’ He motioned for his men to stay back, to give them privacy to speak freely.
‘Why would you leave me behind?’ she demanded. ‘Especially now?’
‘Your father will guard you.’
She gave him an incredulous look. ‘I have hated my father since the day he gave me to Alan. He tried to kill you, or have you forgotten?’
‘It was my own father who gave the order for me to be struck down. And no, I have not forgotten.’ The scars of the whip remained upon his back, and he would never forgive his father for them.
She paled and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I thought it would be different this time, Warrick. I thought you would fight for us.’
‘That is precisely what I’m doing,’ he said coolly. He drew his horse alongside hers and said, ‘I have nowhere to give you shelter, don’t you understand? I cannot take you to my father’s lands, and if I travel to Scotland to my brother’s estate, Owen’s men will seize you.’
‘He cares nothing for me.’ Her green eyes swelled with tears, and it bothered him to see this.
‘He cares a great deal for any child you might bear. And I will not put you at risk.’ A darkness slid through his veins at the thought of the daughter he had never held.
‘Do you think so little of yourself that we cannot remain together?’ Rosamund demanded. ‘Why would you turn from me again?’
‘I have only two men!’ he shot back. ‘Owen has an army. And if you think I would dare to risk your life and the life of an unborn child, you are mistaken.’ He knew too well the dangers they faced. He wanted Rosamund safely guarded behind stone walls, with dozens of men to defend her.
She paled and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘This isn’t only about protecting me, is it? It’s about our daughter. You’re angry with me after what I told you.’
It did fester inside him, and he would not deny it. ‘You should never have kept such a secret from me.’ He could not hide the cold anger from his tone and made no effort to do so.
She brought the mare closer to him, forcing him to stop riding. ‘Warrick, I cannot change the mistakes I made. All I can do is try to make amends for the past.’
He saw the pain in her expression and the sadness. There was no question that she regretted what she had done, but he needed time.
‘Stay with your father until I return for you,’ he said softly.
Rosamund reached out to his hand, tracing the edge of his thumb. Her touch seared him, and then she threaded her fingers with his. ‘I am your wife, Warrick. And whatever happens, we will make a life together—one we should have had three years ago.’
He was weary from a night of no sleep, but he gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘We should reach your father’s holdings by nightfall.’
* * *
Rosamund didn’t know how to lift her husband’s mood. The closer they rode towards her father’s lands, the more tension rose between them. He ordered her to remain with his men while he rode ahead. She obeyed but didn’t like the idea.
‘For a man newly wedded, he seems on edge,’ Bennett remarked. The soldier eyed her and added, ‘I suppose he’s been too long without a woman. Last night wasn’t nearly enough.’ His teasing smile made her blush.
‘He is concerned about Pevensham,’ she admitted. ‘I think he intends to leave me here.’ And despite his insistence that it would keep her safe, she didn’t want to be abandoned.
‘You could sweeten his mood,’ Godfrey added. ‘A man is easily led by his pr—’
‘Quiet,’ Bennett interrupted. ‘She’s a lady, not a serving wench.’
Godfrey shrugged in mock innocence. ‘Be that as it may, there’s no doubting that the man could use a good romp or two.’
Rosamund clamped her hands over her ears. ‘Enough of this.’ Though she supposed the men were trying to be helpful, it was not a subject she wanted to discuss.
But she understood their meaning. Warrick was angry with her, and his mood was still simmering, despite his shielded expression. This was not finished yet, and she needed to confront him.
The men guarded her as they followed where Warrick had gone. Rosamund studied her surroundings, recognising many of the people as she entered her childhood home. She had once loved this estate, especially the climbing roses her mother had planted in the garden.
She wondered if her parents would accept Warrick as her new husband, especially after all that had happened. Though she wanted to see her mother, she didn’t care if she ever set eyes on her father. The hatred she’d kept in her heart still burned brightly. She could never forgive him for manipulating her and harming the man she loved.
But Harold de Beaufort stood at the top of the stairs, his expression neutral. He wore a burgundy silk tunic, trimmed with squirrel fur. There were no words of welcome to her, nor did he smile. She kept her own face calm, b
etraying none of her thoughts.
Bennett held her horse and helped her to dismount. She went to stand beside her husband and didn’t miss the distaste on her father’s face.
‘I heard that Alan de Courcy is dead,’ Harold said to her. ‘And now I learn that you married this man hardly more than a day later.’
‘I wedded Rosamund at Alan’s command,’ Warrick responded. ‘He feared for her safety and demanded it of me, upon his death.’
‘So you say.’ His gaze flickered over them. ‘What do you want of me?’
‘Rosamund is carrying Alan’s heir, and if she bears a son, he will inherit Pevensham. But we have reason to believe that Owen ordered his brother’s death. Rosamund could not remain at Pevensham, or he would threaten her unborn child.’
The lies flowed easily from him, but Rosamund could not deny the possibility of another pregnancy. It had happened once before with Warrick. Alan had done all that he could to protect her, but she understood that it might not be enough.
Her father’s expression remained cold. ‘Now that you have married her, others will believe that any child she bears is yours.’ His unspoken message was that he believed it, too.
‘Alan had already spoken of it to other witnesses. Even his own brother and the family priest knew,’ Warrick responded. ‘For now, Rosamund needs a safe place to stay until her child is born.’
‘And what of your own property? Have you no place to provide for a wife?’
Her father’s remark was a deliberate weapon aimed at Warrick’s pride. She saw the flicker of unrest in her husband’s eyes before he answered, ‘My father’s lands are farther away, and I intend to confront Owen over his brother’s death. I need someone to protect Rosamund while I am gone. Your lands were closer.’
Though she had known he intended to leave, a sudden icy portent of sadness washed over her. She had the terrible fear that something would happen to Warrick, leaving her a widow once more. And she did not want him to go—not until she had soothed his anger and he had forgiven her.
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