Forbidden Night With The Warrior

‘If I were to marry Rosamund, Pevensham still would not be mine,’ he argued. ‘She might have a dower portion, but—’

‘You would govern Pevensham until her son comes of age,’ Alan said quietly. ‘And you would live here as his guardian.’

‘But she could bear a daughter,’ he pointed out. ‘What would happen then?’

Alan’s expression turned cool. ‘I leave that in God’s hands. For now, Rosamund is not yet with child. That is our first priority.’

The revelation confused him. ‘But you said it was your hope that she would bear a son. Is she not already—?’

‘Not yet,’ Alan said. From the narrowed gaze upon the baron’s face, Warrick could not understand what this conversation was about. Was he intending to have Warrick command the forces of Pevensham until Rosamund became pregnant?

Alan hesitated, and Warrick noticed that Rosamund had gone pale, her eyes downcast. ‘I want you to give her a child.’

The words stunned him. How could any man ever contemplate an arrangement like this?

The baron’s voice was quiet, filled with reluctance. ‘If you agree to this, Rosamund will share your bed until she conceives. And your son will inherit Pevensham under the pretence of my name.’

* * *

Rosamund expected Warrick to refuse the proposal and leave Alan’s bedchamber. Instead, his silence terrified her. Dear God, did this mean he was considering it? He—he couldn’t. Not after all that had happened between them.

She stared down at her hands, praying for him to deny the request. But she felt the intensity of his stare upon her and the unspoken question.

When at last she looked at him, his blue eyes held a flare of desire. He was watching her, and his gaze moved down her body. ‘You knew of this proposition, Rosamund?’

What was there to say? That she understood her husband’s desire for a child and his willingness to sacrifice everything to save Pevensham? She couldn’t bring herself to speak, but nodded. Every part of her wanted to protest, for this was a bargain she had never desired.

She had voiced her agreement to her husband, though it had never been her choice. Alan had been relieved at her assent, and she had seen a visible change in him, like a man who was confident that all would be well. And perhaps that was what he needed—reassurance that after he was gone, someone would take care of her.

Warrick regarded her with an unreadable expression. ‘I would like to speak alone with Rosamund.’

No. She didn’t want that at all. She’d rather walk barefoot across shards of broken glass than answer the questions he would pose.

But Alan had no such qualms. ‘Of course.’ He appeared eager to allow it, almost glad that Warrick had not made an outright refusal.

She sent her husband a pleading look, which he ignored, nodding for her to follow Warrick outside the bedchamber.

She gritted her teeth and obeyed. It occurred to her that she could be truthful with Warrick, making him understand why she had gone along with Alan’s plan. Then, at least, he would know not to hold any expectations.

He continued walking down the hallway until she led him into the solar. His powerful stride revealed his impatience, and she sensed that he had a great deal to say to her.

Rosamund dismissed her maid, Berta, who was inside, and afterwards, Warrick closed the door behind him. He studied her for a moment, and then said, ‘Was this your idea, Rosamund? Do you want a child that badly?’

Her frustration roared back. How could he possibly believe such a thing? ‘No, not at all.’ She took a deep breath, trying to force away her anger and calm herself. ‘I understand what Alan wants. Pevensham means everything to him. Even more than me.’ She couldn’t quite hide the bitterness in her voice. ‘He thinks a child will save his estate from Owen. But it will not happen.’

Warrick studied her a moment, and then his gaze passed over her body. ‘Have you ever conceived a child before?’

His question caught her unawares, and she clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. This was not a question she wanted to face, especially from him. The shadow of grief had never left her heart, and she had wanted to keep that part of her buried, along with her baby.

She didn’t want to tell him anything at all. If she spoke a single word, her fragile control would shatter. But she feared he would continue to demand answers, and she couldn’t bear that. Instead, she gathered her composure and tried to hide the gleam of tears. ‘I had a stillborn babe once.’

She was grateful when he didn’t press her for more. He rested his hand upon her shoulder and offered, ‘I am sorry for your loss.’

The kindness undid her, and she let the tears fall in silence. Warrick moved his hand from her shoulder, and she wished she could lean against him, taking solace in an embrace. But she didn’t want to reveal weakness in front of him. Not now. Instead, she wiped her tears away, trying to push away the empty devastation.

Lifting her chin, she admitted, ‘I don’t want to have another child. There’s a part of my heart that is gone forever.’ She bit her lip and blurted out, ‘I know Alan wants an heir, but... I don’t know if I can do this again.’

He stared at her, betraying none of his thoughts. His blue eyes were like river stones, and she could not understand what he wanted from her.

Then he took a step nearer. ‘If you were my wife, I would never give you to another man. I would slaughter him where he stood.’

She felt his penetrating gaze like an invisible touch. And from the heat of his stare, she knew that he still wanted her, even after all these years. Whether he spoke with jealousy or anger at the choice she had made, the result was the same. ‘Alan is only trying to protect Pevensham,’ she murmured. ‘And me. He knows he is incapable of giving me a child.’ She rubbed at her arms, feeling the chill of the room. ‘I understand why he asked this of me, but what he wants is wrong.’

His expression grew shielded, and she could not tell what he was thinking now. His blue eyes never strayed from her face. ‘What do you want, Rosamund?’

‘I told Alan I would agree to his wishes...but I lied.’ Her face burned with humiliation, but she forced herself to finish. ‘I cannot betray my marriage vows. Not even with you.’

He didn’t seem at all surprised. ‘And what if Alan dies? Where will you go?’

She couldn’t let herself think that far ahead. ‘I intend to stay by his side, until the very last moment. I hope to remain here, but with Owen, I don’t know...’ Her words trailed off and she took a steadying breath. ‘I don’t want Alan to die, Warrick. I owe him my loyalty. He has always been good to me.’

He moved closer then, so close that she sensed the heat of his body. ‘I know you want me to go away and leave you alone.’

His voice was sensual, flooding her mind with visions of the past. Her heartbeat quickened with fear of what he would do. She swallowed and tried to take a step backwards. But Warrick’s hands moved to her waist, holding her in place.

‘I am not the man I once was, Rosamund.’ The heat of his hands burned through her kirtle, making her remember what it was to have his touch upon her skin. ‘I watched you marry another man, and it changed me.’

He drew his hands up her spine in a soft caress. ‘Do you remember what it was like between us? You used to press yourself close to me, kissing me until we could hardly breathe.

‘You spoke words of love, and I believed them.’ His hands stroked down again, moving towards her hips. ‘Or have you forgotten the promises you made? That I would be your husband and no other man.’

The words came to her lips, the truths she was too afraid to speak. When her father had learned that she had given her innocence to Warrick, his rage had been so strong, she had no doubt at all that Harold would have killed him. She had never seen him so furious, and she saw that same anger mirrored in Warrick’s eyes now.

‘I was there on the day you married Alan. I stood and watched while de Courcy claimed you as his wife. I joined the guests at the wedding feast, and every bite was like dust in my mouth. And when they took you away to share his bed—’ Warrick’s voice broke off, and it was filled with such frustration and rage, it frightened her.

But then his expression turned sensual. ‘I know full well that you do not want me.’ His hands encircled her waist and he held her closer, making her aware of his desire. ‘But I do not believe it has anything to do with honour. You are afraid of remembering what it was like between us.’

She was shocked at the response of her own body to the pressure of his hips. His sinful words brought back memories of the forbidden, of skin upon skin. She ached at the sensation of his hard body pressed to hers, and it made her heart beat faster. Her breasts grew tight against her gown, yearning for his touch.

Alan had never made her feel anything at all in their marriage bed. She had endured her husband’s attentions but never had he made her feel alive—only guilty. And during her pregnancy, she had given excuses for him not to share her bed.

Warrick traced his finger over her cheek and down her throat. In a low voice he said, ‘I find myself wanting to say yes to your husband’s proposition. For you are bound to obey, are you not? Especially when it means saving this castle.’

‘I don’t want you,’ she gritted out. ‘Not like this.’

But the words were a lie. Her blood was coursing through her body, making her remember the fierce response that only he could conjure. In the past, his kiss had echoed within her skin, arousing her until she had cried out with desire. He knew just how to draw out her response, though she tried to force back the feelings.

Warrick threaded his hands in her hair, leaning in so close, she felt the planes of his hard body against hers. ‘I would have Alan’s full permission to claim you, in the hopes of conceiving a child. But he would never know what truly happens between us.’