Jenni Fletcher - Reclaimed By Her Rebel Knight

‘But she’ll think I ignored her advice.’

‘What advice?’

She bit her lip, instantly regretting the mention of it. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

The eyebrow lifted again. ‘If I recall correctly, married people aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other.’

‘That probably applies to the ones who’ve known each other for more than an afternoon.’ She gave him an arch look back. ‘Oh, very well. She told me to be modest and obedient and to agree with everything you said.’

‘Really?’ His eyes sparked with amusement. ‘Do you generally make a habit of arguing, then?’

‘Only about disagreeable subjects.’

‘Such as my behaviour over the past five years?’ His expression turned serious again. ‘Good point, but surely your aunt will be content as long as we appear at the banquet side by side?’

‘I suppose so, only I don’t want to let her down.’ She lifted a hand to her mouth and started to chew on her thumbnail. ‘She said it was best to get it over with.’

‘It?’ He looked from her to the bed and then back again. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I’m afraid we’ve run out of time.’

‘What? No!’ She almost had a coughing fit, spluttering over her protest. ‘I wasn’t suggesting anything!’

‘You mean that it would make your aunt happy to think that we’ve got it over with?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well, then.’ He drew a knife from his belt and started to roll up his tunic sleeve.

‘What are you doing?’ Constance started forward in protest as he drew the blade lightly across the inside of his forearm.

‘Giving your aunt what she wants. A few drops should be sufficient, I think.’ He smeared the blood across the coverlet and then stood back to admire his handiwork. ‘There. Now there’s no going back. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re husband and wife.’

‘Yes.’ She found herself staring at the bed, mesmerised by the sight of his blood. As gestures went, it was surprisingly and strangely touching. Their whole situation felt so intimate and yet, so far, they hadn’t even touched.

‘Constance?’ The sound of her name brought her eyes back to his. ‘We can work out the rest in our own time, but there’s no need to be nervous. I won’t rush you.’

‘I know.’ Oddly enough, she did.

‘I’ve been a neglectful husband, have I not?’

She raised her shoulders slightly, at a loss for what to say. Somehow it seemed hypocritical to accuse him of neglect when she hadn’t even wanted him to exist.

‘You don’t need to answer, only believe me when I say that I’ll endeavour to do better in the future. As for the past, I hope that you can forgive me in time.’

She held on to his gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes sending a wave of heat through her body, as if all her nerve endings were tingling in unison. His neglect she could forgive. As for the rest, well, he’d promised to make up for it now and he seemed to be genuine. Maybe marriage to him wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe they could even be friends...

‘Will you take me home? Back to Lacelby?’

‘Yes.’ He offered his hand, the way he had before she’d accused him of lying. ‘As soon as I can, I promise.’

The sound of a citole floated up from below, accompanied by sounds of laughter as she placed her fingers gently in his, her breath hitching at the contact of skin against skin.

‘Very well, then, I forgive you.’

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