Jenni Fletcher - Reclaimed By Her Rebel Knight

She glanced over her shoulder at the daybed. Judging by the sound of his breathing, Matthew was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling so steadily that she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She’d spent the last few nights tossing and turning with worry and yet he’d gone to sleep simply by closing his eyes! Probably because he wasn’t, as it turned out, particularly bothered about whether she remained married to him or not. He had bigger concerns . Which at least proved that he wasn’t the fortune-hunting opportunist she’d assumed, though his attitude towards her inheritance was somewhat perplexing, too. He’d seemed almost ambivalent about Lacelby and the land that came with it, but if that were the case then why had he married her in the first place? He’d said something about it taking place during a difficult time in his life, but surely he’d wanted her inheritance five years ago? In which case, why offer to give it up now?

On the other hand, what did it matter? Why wasn’t as important as what she ought to do next, whether to accept the freedom he offered or to stay married. Amazingly, he’d left the decision up to her, although if she chose an annulment then she doubted the King would let her remain unmarried for long, presuming he didn’t take her inheritance for himself, that was. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up in the same position she’d been in five years ago, compelled to be wed, although at least this time she might be allowed to make her own choice.

Now that she thought about it, however, the prospect seemed more than a little daunting. It wasn’t as if she had much experience of men—certainly not much good experience. How could she possibly know who would or would not make a good husband? At least with Matthew Wintour she knew what she was getting, or had a rough idea anyway.

Besides, more than anything she wanted to go home and an annulment would only complicate matters and delay her return even further. Matthew Wintour might be the man who’d sent her away, but he was also her way back. And once he’d stopped scowling she’d found him surprisingly easy to talk to. She’d never told anyone how desperately homesick she’d been when she’d first left Lacelby, not even her uncle or Isabella for fear of upsetting them. It had been a relief to finally admit it out loud, as if the words had been on the very tip of her tongue for years. Somehow she’d felt able to tell him , a complete stranger who was still, somehow, her husband. Maybe because he seemed like the kind of man who appreciated the truth. Maybe because he wasn’t the arrogant tyrant she’d first assumed him to be. It was still hard to imagine feeling for him the way Isabella felt for Tristan, but he was more observant, more considerate, more sensitive even than she’d expected, albeit in a stern, forbidding kind of way. Not to mention far more good looking than she’d given him credit for the previous evening. And then there was his voice... Not that she was going to forgive just because of that !

Most important of all, however, was that the way he looked at her didn’t frighten her. As far as she could tell, he’d kept his gaze above her neck the whole time they’d been talking. Not many men did that. Not unless...she tensed as a new, less appealing thought occurred to her...unless that was why he’d offered an annulment, because he really wanted one himself? He’d called her beautiful and said he wasn’t disappointed, but what if he was lying? What if he’d taken one look at her and decided that he wanted a way out of their marriage even if it meant giving up her inheritance, too? She didn’t know which was worse, a husband who stared as if she were a piece of meat or one who didn’t want to look at her at all...

The dull thrumming of the rain against the window seemed to get louder and louder as she mulled over each idea in her head, only the gradual darkening of the sky outside alerting her to the fact that time was passing and she really ought to wake him. The banquet would be starting soon and they were the guests of honour. If she chose to stay married to him, that was.

Reluctantly, she stood up and walked across to the daybed. Despite the sound of raised voices and tables being set out below, Matthew was still fast asleep, flat on his back with one arm across his chest and the other stretched above his head. She reached a hand out to touch his shoulder and then stopped with her fingers a hair’s breadth away. She was used to sharing a bed with Isabella, but being so close to a sleeping man was different. He was almost twice the size of her cousin for a start and the warmth emanating from his large body felt strangely intimate and exciting, making her heart race and her body shiver in a way she’d never experienced before. She leaned closer, bringing her face almost to a level with his as she breathed in his musky scent, a combination of leather, sandalwood and something else...something indefinable and male. Up close she could see flecks of stubble across his chin, pale golden hairs that made her want to reach out and...

A light tap on the door made her whirl around guiltily.

‘It’s almost time.’ Her aunt’s voice outside sounded distinctly smug, Constance noticed, opening her mouth to answer and then almost yelping with surprise as Matthew did it for her.

‘We’ll be down shortly!’

He was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed by the time she turned round again, looking as wide awake and alert as if he’d never been asleep at all, and she felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. What must he have thought to wake up and find her standing so close beside him? Not that she’d been doing anything wrong. Just looking...

‘How long was I asleep?’ He arched an eyebrow as the sound of her aunt’s footsteps receded.

‘Just about an hour, maybe. I lost track of time.’

‘Thinking?’ The eyebrow quirked higher. ‘Then have you come to a decision, Lady Constance?’

‘Just Constance.’ She caught her breath, feeling an unexpected thrill at the sound of her name on his lips. The way his voice lingered on the last syllable made her feel as if they were actually touching. ‘And, yes, I have.’ She swallowed, watching intently for his reaction. ‘I’ve decided that if you’re content to remain married, then so am I.’

He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable before he gave a firm nod and then pushed himself to his feet. ‘Probably for the best. We might have trouble explaining what we’ve been doing all this time otherwise.’

‘Do you feel well rested?’

‘Extremely.’ He stretched his arms above his head. His hair was still ruffled from sleep, but his features seemed more relaxed than before. ‘People will think you have rejuvenating powers.’

‘That I have...?’ She wrinkled her brow in confusion and then stifled a gasp. Nothing her aunt had told her about the marriage bed had sounded particularly rejuvenating, but she didn’t even want to think about that and she had the distinct impression that he was teasing her. A fresh wave of colour swept over her already red cheeks. At least he didn’t seem overly disappointed that she hadn’t taken up his offer of an annulment. Although she couldn’t exactly tell what his reaction was either...

‘Shall we go and let them gawp at us?’ He gave an almost-smile.

‘Yes.’ She smoothed down her skirts as if doing so might help her gather her scattered thoughts. ‘Only what should I tell my aunt? She expected...’ She jerked her head towards the bed, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. Judging by the slight quirk of his lips, however, she didn’t have to.

‘Tell her the truth, that we had a lot to talk about and you needed time to consider.’