Forbidden Night With The Warrior

Warrick remained in place, feeling like an outsider while Alan stroked his wife’s hand. She leaned in, murmuring to him, and the man closed his eyes for a moment.

‘Rosamund, does Warrick de Laurent frighten you?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted. But the look on her face was enigmatic, as if something else troubled her.

‘Do you believe he would harm you?’ Alan continued. ‘Would you rather I chose another man?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I could not imagine lying with anyone else.’ The moment she spoke the words, her face reddened when she realised what she’d said.

Warrick remained silent, but he could see that she was not entirely immune to him. ‘Lord Pevensham, I propose that we give Rosamund more time to think about this. And in the meantime, I will remain here with my men until she has made her decision.’

Alan didn’t look pleased with his suggestion, but he had little alternative. Warrick wanted to speak with her again and learn whether it was honour that kept Rosamund from fulfilling her husband’s desires—or fear of the feelings she had buried over the last three years.

Chapter Three (#ue2662df3-1048-5855-b3b7-9cef7e238597)

Three years earlier

Rosamund stared up at the Montbrooke donjon with wonder. The keep had a large rectangular tower and stood atop a hillside. The outer wall was three feet thick and stretched from the base of the mound nearly twenty feet high. Another tower stretched above the main gate with sentries posted.

The earl had invited her family here to witness the betrothal of his oldest son Rhys to Lianna MacKinnon, a Scottish heiress. Rosamund didn’t know either of them, but her father was friends with Edward de Laurent. The betrothed couple would marry soon, which would help secure their lands at Eiloch.

She rode alongside her parents and sister across the drawbridge which spanned a deep moat filled with water. The portcullis was made of iron, and she saw dozens of sentries standing guard.

When they reached the inner bailey, several stable boys took their horses and helped them dismount. Rosamund stood with her sister while her father and mother went forward to greet Lord Montbrooke. Edward de Laurent had three children—a daughter Joan who was slightly older than Rosamund, his eldest son Rhys, and another son, Warrick.

It was Warrick who caught her attention from the first. He had dark hair and blue eyes that watched her with interest. He wore leather armour and had a sword at his belt, as if he had just come from the training field. She guessed he was twenty, and the longer he stared at her, the more her cheeks flushed. Never before had a handsome young man shown interest in her, and she wondered if he would speak with her later.

‘Do not even consider it,’ her younger sister Cecilia warned in a hard whisper. ‘Father would never allow it.’

‘Allow what?’

‘Don’t be coy. I saw the way you were looking at Warrick de Laurent.’ Her sister reached out and gripped her hand. ‘Father plans to betroth you to Alan de Courcy. I heard he was already negotiating the marriage contract.’

The thought soured her stomach. Though she knew her marriage would be arranged, she had hoped to have a choice in it.

‘So soon?’ She couldn’t hide the dismay in her voice.

‘Within a year, so I’ve heard.’ Cecilia spoke as if it had already happened. ‘So do not imagine that he would settle for the youngest son of an earl—not when you could have a baron to wed.’

Rosamund ignored her younger sister and straightened her shoulders. Instead, when her parents brought them forward to be introduced, she kept a smile on her face when Warrick took her hand. He gave her fingers a slight squeeze, and her nerves twisted with a rush of giddiness.

Later, his eyes seemed to promise.

I will wait, she answered.

* * *

The opportunity came that afternoon when her family was invited to go riding across Lord Montbrooke’s estate. Rosamund mounted her horse with the help of a groom and joined her sister, Cecilia. They waited with their parents and then began riding across the drawbridge. Her family was in the middle of the riders while Warrick de Laurent rode with his father and sister. After a few minutes, she noticed that he had begun to drop back, slowing his pace to join her. When he risked a glance behind him, he nodded towards the rear of the travelling party, as if he wanted her to join him. But how could she do so without her sister’s interference? Cecilia would never allow him to speak to her.

Fate intervened when her father brought Cecilia forward to introduce her to another member of the group. Rosamund seized the opportunity and slowed her horse even more. In time, Warrick drew his horse alongside hers, and they kept slowing down until they reached the last members of the group.

For a moment, they rode in silence, as if Warrick couldn’t quite think of what to say. He had the demeanour of a soldier, Rosamund decided. Rather fierce and forbidding. She waited a little longer, and when finally she could bear it no longer, she asked, ‘Is everything all right?’

He glanced at her and said, ‘It is.’

‘You look angry with me.’ And he truly did. His blue eyes were glaring as he stared straight ahead at the travelling party.

‘I’m not angry,’ he gritted out.

She bit her lip, wondering if she had misread his intentions. But when she studied him more closely, she saw that his cheeks were reddened. Was he...nervous?

He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. With his dark brown hair cropped short and his deep blue eyes, she felt her pulse race just by looking at him.

‘Was there something you wanted?’ she blurted out. ‘Or shall I leave you in peace and rejoin my family?’

‘Don’t.’ His words were clipped, and when she studied him more closely, she realised that he was struggling for words. In a way, he seemed frustrated with his inability to converse. It seemed to be an invisible shield of awkwardness between them.

‘If you are not angry with me, was I wrong to join you? I mistakenly thought you wanted to speak with me.’ She waited a moment, trying not to stare. His arms were corded with muscles, as if he spent hours training with the other men. Even his chainmail armour moulded against his body like another skin.

‘I did want to speak with you,’ he admitted, but he kept his attention fixed upon the horses ahead.

She waited a little longer, and when the silence stretched again, she couldn’t help her smile. ‘Do you not know how to talk to women?’

Warrick turned back as if to snap at her, but when he saw that she was teasing, he shrugged. ‘I’ve little experience with women.’

‘Well, then, we should start with names. I am Rosamund de Beaufort.’

‘I know who you are.’

‘Of course you do, but it’s a way of talking to a woman for the first time. Now tell me your name once more.’

His expression remained a block of granite. ‘I am Warrick de Laurent.’

‘There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ She brightened and was rewarded when he glanced back at her. His face still appeared uneasy, and she tried to start a conversation. ‘Your lands are quite beautiful. I do love the forest here. Such tall trees. And look at the way the sunlight glimmers through the leaves. It’s like the fairies cast a spell over them.’ She continued to talk about whatever came into her mind, understanding that conversation was not easy for him. But then, when he still didn’t say anything, she wondered if she was simply irritating him.

‘Shall I stop talking?’

His blue eyes softened, and he shook his head. ‘I like listening to you.’

The confession warmed her in ways she hadn’t expected. There was more to this quiet man than she had realised.

Warrick reached out and took the reins of her horse. ‘There’s a forest path that cuts through the land over here, if you want to see it better. It ends along the same path as the others.’

She hesitated, wondering if she dared to part ways from her family with a man she barely knew. Though she wanted to explore the woods, she was uncertain whether it was wise.

‘Or if you would rather stay with the others, it’s all the same to me.’ His tone was matter of fact, but she wondered what effort it had taken for him to voice the suggestion. Warrick truly was a man who didn’t say a great deal.

‘Only for a short while,’ she said at last. ‘My family will be angry with me if they discover I’m missing. And I cannot go far.’