She knew she ought to be glad of this escape and grateful to Warrick. But it did feel as if her life had been shifted once again, giving her no control over what would happen now. Was it wrong to wish that she could make her own decisions instead of being forced to stay with her father? She didn’t know any more.
But for now, they would ride through the night and pray that Owen de Courcy would not find them.
* * *
When dawn rose above the edge of the horizon with the faint traces of gold, Warrick slowed their horses. He saw that Rosamund was so tired, she could barely hold on to her mare. Exhaustion weighed upon her, and he knew she needed rest.
Warrick could not resist the need to take care of her, but he was aware that this was hardly the time for a wedding between them. She had remained pensive, almost numb during their journey. He longed to comfort her, to hold her close and assure her that all would be well. And yet, he had been startled by her response when he’d mentioned Alan’s heir. She had visibly shuddered, as if the idea bothered her deeply.
He didn’t know what to think of that. A child would protect her and ensure that Owen would never inherit her lands or control her. Was this not what she had longed for?
He told himself that she was upset about all that had happened, particularly her husband’s death. In time, she would accept the new circumstances. But a part of him wondered if it was his baby that she did not want. He pushed the thought away, unwilling to consider it.
They were near Kingsmere, holdings that belonged to his friend David. The fortress was not nearly as large as Pevensham, but it was a motte and bailey structure. A large stone wall with a single square tower encircled it for defence, and the village stood outside the walls. Warrick trusted David to grant them sanctuary until he could marry Rosamund.
Though he’d wanted to marry her before they left, he knew it was too much to ask. She was in shock from Alan’s unexpected death, and he didn’t want memories of their wedding tainted by sorrow. But neither could he bring her to her father’s estate until they were already wed, since Harold de Beaufort would do anything to prevent their union. He had decided to travel east, to Kingsmere, where they could be wed quietly.
He dismounted and gave orders to his men to make the necessary arrangements. Bennett and Godfrey rode towards the village, leaving him alone with Rosamund.
‘Where are we?’ she asked, dismounting from her mare. She winced as she walked towards him, holding her horse’s reins. Warrick took her hand in his and led his stallion alongside her mare.
‘This is Kingsmere,’ he said. ‘I have a friend who lives here. We will be safe for a time.’
She walked beside him with her mare, staring up at the fortress. Her hair had come free of its braid and hung about her shoulders in long waves. It occurred to him that, for the first time in their lives, they would belong to each other. There was still danger, but for a few days, they could be together.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
She braved a wry smile and admitted, ‘All I want right now is a pallet with a blanket and hours to sleep.’
Warrick stopped walking and let the reins drop. For a moment, he caressed her face, tracing the outline of her jaw. Then he leaned in and kissed her, trying to reassure her without words. He wanted her to know that he would take care of her and protect her from all harm.
She kissed him back, but her response was not as impassioned as he had hoped. There was a reluctant quality to her embrace, as if she were shy. He hungered for this woman, as he had for three years...but he was uncertain of the look in her eyes or the worry. No woman wanted to wed under these circumstances of danger and loss.
He had ordered his men to fetch a priest and to prepare for the wedding. And yet, he knew not if this was what she wanted.
‘I will take you inside and give you a place where you can rest.’ He tucked her hand in his. ‘But tonight, I want to wed you.’
As soon as he spoke the words, he amended, ‘That is, I think it would be best if we married quickly. For your protection.’
Her expression grew hesitant, but she said nothing. It wasn’t clear whether she would agree, but she did not refuse. Instead, she avoided looking at him.
Warrick did not prompt her for an answer, but her silence bothered him a great deal. He guided her inside the gates and sent word to David, in the hopes that his friend would give Rosamund a place to stay.
When they entered the fortress, he was less certain that this was a good place for her. Although it was well defended, the interior held signs of neglect. And there didn’t appear to be many women anywhere nearby.
He gave their horses over to a stable lad and kept Rosamund at his side. Another soldier guided them inside where he found David passed out upon a trestle table. His friend had lost weight, and his hair was unkempt. An empty pitcher and a fallen wooden goblet revealed that the man had drunken himself into a stupor.
He shook David’s shoulder, and when his friend would not awaken, he seized another pitcher of water and dumped it upon the man’s head. David came up sputtering, and demanded, ‘Why would you interrupt a sleeping man?’
‘You were drunk,’ Warrick said. ‘Hardly sleeping.’ He set down the pitcher and added, ‘I came to ask if we could stay here for the night before we continue our journey.’
His friend rubbed the water from his hair and glared at him. ‘I ought to throw you out for waking me up.’ But his gaze narrowed upon Rosamund. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is Lady Rosamund of Pevensham. We intend to marry this night before we continue to her father’s house.’
David’s expression turned grim. ‘You could have chosen a better place than this for a wedding, de Laurent.’ To Rosamund, he apologised, ‘I fear Kingsmere has not been the same since my wife died.’
Warrick had not heard of Catherine’s death, but it must have been recent, to see his friend still caught up in grief. He could understand the man’s desire to remain drunk.
‘I am sorry to hear of it,’ he said. ‘And I hope we are not burdening you with our visit.’
David shrugged. ‘I will give you both a place to sleep, and our priest can hear your vows.’
Rosamund drew nearer and said, ‘I thank you for your kindness, Lord Kingsmere.’
He waved a hand and sighed. ‘I apologise that we were unprepared for guests, but I will help you as I am able.’ He thought a moment and said, ‘There may be a gown you could wear. You can look among Catherine’s belongings. I know she would not have minded.’
Warrick echoed Rosamund’s murmured thanks, and David staggered to his feet. He led them towards a wooden partition at the back of the space, and there was a single narrow bed there. ‘It’s not much, but it’s all I have to offer.’
Rosamund eyed it with gratefulness, and Warrick offered, ‘Why don’t you sleep for a time, and I will awaken you later?’
She lay down upon the bed and collapsed with exhaustion. Though Warrick wished he could join her, he intended to use this opportunity for wedding preparations. It would take a great deal of time to arrange it all, but he wanted this marriage to be better than their first union.
He walked alongside David, back to the gathering space. In a low voice, he added, ‘We are not safe here, my friend.’ He explained their circumstances, adding, ‘Rosamund must be protected at all times. Owen de Courcy will want her dead, along with her unborn child.’
Although the lie had slipped from him as a means of protecting her, a part of him wondered if it could be true. They had only spent the one night together, but it was possible. And if she were, then the child was his.
An aching emotion caught up within him, though Rosamund might not want it to be so. He had never let himself imagine the idea of having a family. After he had lost Rosamund three years ago, he had given up any thought of it, for she was the
only woman who had ever seemed to look beyond his lowly circumstances. He would never be the son his father wanted, nor could Edward ever see the truth and forgive him.
A voice inside him warned that she was reluctant to marry and even more wary of bearing a child.
David’s gaze narrowed, and he asked, ‘Are Owen de Courcy’s men in pursuit?’
‘I have no doubt of it.’ He followed David outside the dwelling and into the courtyard. ‘But we will not stay long enough to endanger you. Only long enough to be wedded, before I take her on to safety.’
As Warrick approached the other soldiers, he could only hope that Rosamund would be contented with the life he could give her.
Chapter Eleven
Rosamund walked towards the stone chapel, feeling the rise of nerves under her skin. David had given her a gown that had once belonged to his wife, and the emerald silk bliaud fitted her perfectly. The long sleeves were tight against her arms, and the skirts brushed the ground. Her dark hair was braided back beneath a white veil, and she walked alongside Bennett and Godfrey. It was unusual to marry at night, for normally people were supposed to wed in the morning and hold a feast afterwards. But she understood the necessity of wedding Warrick as soon as possible.
Her heart was pounding, and her fingers were cold as she approached the chapel. A part of her wanted to feel overcome by joy. But she couldn’t help but sense the shadow of uncertainty and danger—almost as if she didn’t deserve to be happy.
Warrick was waiting for her with the priest outside the chapel, along with David and the other villagers. He was holding a lit candle in one hand, and he reached over to light the candle of one of the wedding guests. She realised, then, that each of the people held a candle. One by one, they lit the flames, until the gathering space was filled with candlelight.
Rosamund couldn’t imagine how much he had spent on the candles, but it transformed the courtyard into a sea of lights. She stared in wonder, realising that he had done this for her, to make this evening beautiful.
The gesture warmed her, reminding her that, although she’d had no choice in this wedding either, Warrick wanted her to be happy. And she smiled at him, feeling more at ease.
As the priest began the wedding with words of Latin, she took Warrick’s hands and realised they were as cold as her own. He, too, seemed somewhat nervous, though his expression remained steady.
This time, there were no tears as she spoke the vows binding him to her. This was the marriage she had longed for, years ago. No matter what lay ahead, they would be together.
Warrick spoke his own vows, and his hands tightened upon hers as he promised to take her as his wife. And when he gave her the kiss of peace, its warmth filled up the emptiness inside her.
The priest blessed their union, and then gave a short Mass within the chapel. Afterwards, they joined the villagers in celebrating the marriage. Warrick remained standing among the men, but he encouraged her to dance with the others and enjoy the night. But she was well aware that he was guarding her, keeping an eye out for their enemies.
She went to stand at his side and took his hand in hers. ‘Are you worried that they’ll find us?’
‘I know they will. The only question is when.’ His grim expression was not reassuring, and it cast a shadow over the wedding celebration.
Rosamund didn’t want to think of it this night. For now, she wanted to push aside the danger and look towards a different future. She took Warrick by the hand and led him towards the dancing. ‘Come and dance with me.’
‘I don’t dance.’ He eyed the villagers as if he would rather have knives thrown at him than join the circle.
‘It’s not so bad. The steps are easy enough.’ She tried to show him, but he glowered at her. In response, she sent him a blinding smile. ‘If you dance with me, I will kiss you.’
His mood softened somewhat, though he still didn’t try the steps. ‘You’ve kissed me already.’
She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. ‘I didn’t say where I would kiss you.’
His eyes flared at her promise. Without another word, Warrick lifted her into his arms and began to carry her away amid the cheers of the wedding guests.
She couldn’t help but smile at his ardour. His long strides covered the distance of the courtyard, and Rosamund started laughing at him. ‘What are you doing, Warrick?’
His expression held unveiled desire. ‘You don’t say something like that to me and expect me to remain with the guests, do you?’
She leaned down and kissed him upon the cheek. ‘There. You’ve had your kiss.’
He lowered her to stand, keeping his arms locked around her waist. ‘Was that where you planned to kiss me? Upon my cheek?’
She nodded, still amused by his assumption. ‘Or I might kiss you here.’ She drew his mouth down to hers, savouring the warmth of his lips. His tongue slipped inside, and she opened to him, feeling the rush of need swirling inside her.
He ended the kiss and sent her a wicked smile. ‘There are other places you could kiss me.’
With that, she raised his hand to her lips. ‘Surely you meant here.’
‘Lower,’ he murmured. And his deep voice sent a thrill of anticipation through her. ‘Wherever you kiss me, I will do the same, Rosamund.’ He lifted her wrist to his mouth and she felt the warmth of his breath within the kiss. Her imagination was caught up with the idea of his mouth upon her, and her skin tightened with her own desire.
Warrick lifted her back into his arms and took her across the threshold into the hall. The partition stood at the back of the space, and furs rested upon the small bed. It was a tiny space, but she supposed that didn’t matter.
Rosamund was torn between wanting to enjoy this night, for all the years they had endured apart...and the memory of Alan’s death. The guilt pushed down on her, for what right did she have to remarry so swiftly and to be glad of it?
‘Are you afraid of me?’ he asked quietly.
‘No.’ But she was afraid of the buried feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. She could not deny her own desire to be with this man, to touch him and take him inside her body. Their marriage would not be valid until that happened. And yet, the shadow of danger lingered here.
Warrick removed his tunic, letting his clothing fall to the ground. His bare chest gleamed in the dim light of the torches set within the space. She reached out to touch his warm flesh and his hardened muscles were like stone beneath her fingers. Then she traced a path around to his back where she touched the lines of his scars. ‘I wish this had never happened to you.’
‘There was a time when I cursed you for them,’ he admitted. ‘For you married Alan in spite of the whipping.’
‘My father was not going to stop. He would have killed you and forced me to watch.’ She let her hand slide down his spine, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘I could not let that happen.’
‘He only said that to bend you to his will.’
Rosamund lifted her chin to meet his gaze. ‘He said that your own father gave him permission to have you flogged.’ He stiffened at that. But she needed him to understand just how grave the threat had been. ‘I could not bear to watch you die.’
She reached up and touched his face, drawing him down to her. ‘Kiss me, Warrick. And let us forget the years when we were apart.’
His mouth lowered to hers, and he ignited the fire between them. His tongue mingled with hers, and he held her so close, she could feel the rise of his shaft. The pressure between her hips made her ache, and she grew wet between her legs. He began unlacing the gown, lowering it from her shoulders along with her shift until her breasts were bare. The sleeves were so tight, they held her arms pinned at her sides.
Warrick eyed her with open hunger. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Rosamund.’
She f
elt his needs echoed in her own. ‘Touch me,’ she begged.
‘Where?’ His voice was dark and husky, and she could hardly stand the waiting. In the cool night air, her nipples puckered.
‘On my breasts,’ she whispered. ‘Use your hands and mouth.’
He obeyed her, cupping one breast and stroking the erect tip. The sudden rush of desire flooded through her body, echoing between her legs. He took both breasts in his palms, and then bent to suckle one. The heat of his mouth nearly made her knees tremble, but he caught her, holding her upright.
He drew back and helped her remove the rest of her gown, setting it aside. Then he skimmed his hands down her body, forcing the shift away. She stood naked before him, and he took off his braies and chausses, revealing his body.
It had been a long time since she had seen him in the light. And although he had made love to her in the darkness, she now admired every hardened plane, every part of him. She loved this man now, just as she had three years ago.
Rosamund touched his chest, letting her hands move lower. She cupped the curve of his backside, feeling his hard shaft against her stomach. He mimicked her actions, stroking her bottom. She explored his body, moving her hands down to his length. Slowly, she circled him with her palm, and he slid his hand to her cleft at the same time. A shocking tremor of pleasure rocked through her, and she inhaled sharply at his touch. When she moved her hand over the length of him, squeezing gently, he penetrated her wetness with two fingers.
The sensation was almost her undoing. He mimicked her motions, his thumb keeping a light pressure above her opening. As she stroked him, he did the same, matching her rhythm.
‘I am yours,’ he said quietly. ‘Whatever you do to me, I will do the same for you.’ The very thought aroused her deeply. And she wanted to touch this man intimately, to make him feel the same rush of need that he had kindled within her.
‘Lie down on the furs,’ she commanded, pulling her hand away. If he continued, she would no longer be able to stand. And he had piqued her curiosity, making her wonder if she could push him over the edge, just as he had done to her.
Forbidden Night with the Warrior Page 18