by North, Evie
“I came to see what Bigod was up to, and then I saw you. I could not leave you to his mercies. I stayed to watch over you.”
Rowena reached to stroke his cheek, and when he bent his head to kiss her lips, clung to him to make it last.
“I was too late, though,” he said sadly. “I did not reach you in time.”
“You saved my life, Roget.”
“But he hurt you first.”
Rowena sighed. “I will heal. Nell tells me that soon there will be little but a scar, and Bigod did such a bad job of his branding that it appears to be the letter R rather than B. It could just as easily stand for Rowena, or Roget.”
“You make a jest of it, my lady, but I will never forgive myself.”
“Ah Roget,” she whispered, her palm flat against his tunic. “If not for you I would never have known what it is to love. This small pain is worth it. I would have suffered much more to be in your arms.”
The love in his dark eyes made her heart grow full.
“My lord Roget?”
It was Nell at the door, and behind her a tall knight with brown hair. His smile lifted one corner of his mouth, a seductive movement that was not lost on the maid.
“Roget, I need to be leaving.”
“Fitzallen, this is the lady Rowena.” The way he said it made Fitzallen smile again, and then he turned his smile on Rowena and she could see why Nell swooned. The man was handsome; not so handsome as Roget, but there was definitely something that drew the eye.
“Fitzallen,” she said, and reaching out took Roget’s hand in hers, “I thank you for what you have done for Roget and I.”
“Roget has been smitten with you, lady, since the first moment he saw you. I could not leave him in such a state without helping him to a happy ending.”
Roget frowned. “That is in poor taste, friend. Bigod was Lady Rowena’s husband.”
“And a very bad husband, too,” Rowena interceded, rallying her voice. “It is over now,” she added softly.
When Fitzallen had gone, Roget lifted her into his arms, sitting in the window seat as the sunshine spilled through onto the colourful cushions. “I feel guilty that I did not notice you,” she murmured, snuggling into his chest. “Not until that night at the hostelry.”
“I did not want you noticing me, Rowena. If you had paid me attention your husband would have sent me away, or Hugo would have locked me in the dungeon. They were always watching you, waiting for you to do something wrong, you just didn’t notice. Sweet Rowena.”
“Will you stay, Roget? I don’t know whether I will be able to live here, but . . .”
“The king wants you to stay here and rule wisely. And I will stay with you, if you will marry me.”
Rowena knew she could bear anything—even the memories of the dungeon—with Roget by her side. There would be no more torture in this place; their home would be filled with love.
She reached up to kiss his lips, feeling passion growing between them. “Yes,” she said. “Always.”
Their kiss deepened, and he groaned. “Lady you are not well enough to—”
But her laughter stopped his words. “Roget, I am nearly healed and I think if I do not lay with you now, in my bed, then I will pine and fade away and die.”
He chuckled and lifted her again, carrying her to the bed. Her body trembled beneath his hands, and when he filled her, thrusting slowly and deeply, Rowena held him tightly, until they cried out together.
“All will be well,” she whispered, and knew it to be true.
