Michelle Willingham - Forbidden Night With The Warrior

Warrick said nothing. The man’s behaviour seemed impossibly selfless. He didn’t understand how anyone could make such an offer—especially wedded to a woman like Rosamund. If he were in Alan’s place, he would die before giving her to someone else. He would hire a hundred men to defend her, if needed.

‘There are a dozen ways you could protect her,’ he said. ‘If you truly loved her, you would never force her to lie with someone else to conceive a child.’

At that accusation, Alan’s face hardened. ‘I love her enough to give her what she truly wants, above all else.’ He sat up straighter in his bed. ‘She might have spoken her vows, but her heart was never mine. She obeyed her father and married me.’ Alan’s tone turned dark. ‘I wanted her—I won’t lie. But it broke her heart to wed me. She is a dutiful, faithful wife, but she does not love me the way I love her. I thought time would change it, but now my life grows short.

‘And because of the sacrifices she made, I want to give her back what she desires most of all. The life she wanted to have with you.’

There was no doubting the sincerity of Alan’s words, but Warrick didn’t believe that Rosamund would agree to marry him now. She had made her intentions clear enough when she had obeyed her father’s command. And though Warrick had come to the wedding, she had never looked at him once.

‘She made her choice years ago.’ He understood that Pevensham wanted him to protect Rosamund after he was gone, but Warrick didn’t delude himself into thinking Rosamund still held feelings towards him.

‘I may be dying, but I am not blind,’ Alan countered. ‘I saw her misery on our wedding day, and I saw her reaction when you answered my summons. Once she recognises the necessity, I believe she will do what is necessary to protect our lands.’

But Warrick disagreed. ‘Rosamund has no intention of dishonouring her marriage vows, no matter what she told you.’

‘There must be a child,’ Alan insisted. His frustrated anger was evident in the planes of his face, and his hands clenched. ‘It is the only way to ensure that Pevensham does not fall into Owen’s hands. And once she conceives, I want you to take her to my estate in Ireland. My steward will grant you both sanctuary until she gives birth.’

But Warrick was uncertain it was the best course of action. If he removed Rosamund from her home, it would only invite Owen de Courcy to pursue her.

Alan met Warrick’s gaze evenly. ‘Will you do this for us? For her?’

He had not yet decided whether to accept Alan’s proposition. Not only was Rosamund adamant that she would not break her vows, there was no telling whether the plan would work, even if she did change her mind. At the moment, she believed that a simple lie would pacify her husband, and she had no intention of attempting to conceive.

‘I will think about it,’ he said at last. It was the best answer he could give. If Rosamund wanted his help, he would not deny her. But until then, he would bide his time.

The door to Alan’s bedchamber swung open, and Rosamund entered the room. She had gathered her composure and took a seat upon a low stool beside the hearth. Then she picked up her sewing and began to embroider the linen. Nothing in her demeanour suggested the rebellion within her heart.

When Warrick studied her more closely, Rosamund’s green eyes revealed a stubborn nature. She had unyielding loyalty and was not about to obey this command meekly.

Alan was asking him to lay siege to this woman’s body and heart, with a child and a castle as the prizes to be won. But it was far more complicated than that.

‘Rosamund, Warrick tells me that you have changed your mind about our agreement.’ His expression held annoyance. ‘I thought you understood the necessity of this arrangement.’

At that, she set aside her sewing and stood from her stool. ‘My lord husband, I told him that I am a woman of honour, and I—’

‘You promised,’ Alan repeated. He extended his hand to his wife, and she went to his bedside. ‘This is not about your desires or mine, or even his. This is about protecting everything we have built. If I could give you a child, I would have done so by now, Rosamund.’ His complexion had gone grey, and he leaned back against the pillows. ‘If you wait until I am gone, it will be too late. The child’s parentage will be questioned, and I cannot risk this.’

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

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.’