She wore her shift and Berta had brushed her hair. It fell into dark waves down to her waist after being in braids for most of the day.
Her maid appeared agitated for some reason, and finally Rosamund asked, ‘What ails you? You are not yourself today.’
Berta’s face tightened, and she hesitated. ‘My—my son has been taken by Owen de Courcy. He claims he wishes to train him as a squire.’ But there was no happiness in her maid’s expression—only fear.
‘Do you want me to speak on your behalf?’ Rosamund suggested. ‘I can tell Owen you do not wish Martin to be fostered with him.’ Though the man might not listen, she was willing to try.
Berta appeared dismayed by her offer. ‘Oh, no, my lady. It is kind of you, but no.’
She didn’t entirely understand why her maid refused, but for now, she would let it be. Berta knew that she would intervene for her, if needed, and that was enough.
When there came a knock at the chamber door, Rosamund stiffened. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she fought to quell her anxiety and frustration. Berta answered it, and Alan stood at the threshold. He was clad in a silk tunic and chausses, and she noticed the lines of pain on his face. The act of walking to her chamber had exhausted him, though he had tried to feign strength. She wanted to help him return to his own room, but she could not shame him in front of her maid.
Rosamund dismissed Berta, and Alan waited a moment before approaching the window.
‘Are you ready,ma petite?’
‘No.’ She crossed her arms and glanced outside. ‘In truth, I was contemplating whether to throw myself from this window since the pair of you seem intent upon rearranging my life.’ She eyed the distance to the ground before turning back. ‘You could discuss the plans for my funeral Mass, if you wished.’
A laugh escaped him, and Alan sat upon the bed. ‘By God, you are the most stout-hearted woman I have ever known, Rosamund. I do love you.’
‘Then don’t ask me to do this.’ She leaned against the wall, pleading with him.
Alan started to stand, but she raised a hand, motioning him down. He had exerted himself enough by walking this far.
‘I know that you were forced into our marriage, and I am grateful for every moment of it.’ His gaze softened upon her. ‘I wish I had the means to give you a child, my Rosamund. But God did not grant me that.’
He reached for her hand, and she took it, feeling the shadow of guilt. This man deserved a wife who loved him in truth. Though Rosamund had tried to be the woman he wanted, she had never desired him as much as Warrick. Alan was not at fault for their forced marriage, and she had never blamed him for claiming her. Instead, she had harboured resentment towards her father.
‘I know you desire a child,’ she answered softly. ‘But what if it doesn’t happen?’
His palm tightened over hers, and his grey eyes held sadness. ‘It happened once before, Rosamund. With him.’
All the blood seemed to freeze within her body, and she paled at his statement. Before she could speak, he touched her lips with a finger. ‘Do not deny it. I knew you were already with child when we wed. Your father told me.’
It overwhelmed her to realise that he had known her darkest secret all these years. ‘Then why did you wed me?’
‘Because I wanted you,’ he admitted. ‘I was willing to have you in any way I could. And I was willing to pretend that your child was mine.’ He caressed her cheek and offered, ‘I know Warrick can give you a child because of that. And I would do everything possible to protect this estate and you.’
Rosamund didn’t know what to say. For three years, she had kept the secret of the man who had fathered her stillborn child, believing that Alan would be furious to learn of it. But he had known all along. She wasn’t certain how she should respond to the knowledge.
‘I am sorry,’ she said at last.
‘You loved him,’ he answered. ‘And you believed you would marry him.’ He shrugged and reached for her shift. ‘There is nothing to be done about it now. Except, we know he is capable of giving you a child—and that is what we need most.’
His hands trembled upon her shift, passing over her body before he reached the hem and lifted it away. She stood naked before him, and he leaned forward and kissed her.
‘Lie down, Rosamund,’ he murmured. He walked with her to the bed and pulled back the coverlet. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I was always proud to call you my wife.’
Her body grew cold, not only from the chill, but from his actions. ‘Alan, please. Don’t ask this of me.’
He drew her to lie down, his face serious. ‘Our time together grows short. Let me die knowing I have done everything I could to take care of you.’ He kissed her lips and then moved away from the bed. ‘Stay here, and do as I have commanded.’
Her fingers dug into the sheets, but she understood how weak he was and how difficult this short walk had been.
When he walked to the opposite wall, he moved aside a tapestry and found the latch that opened up the passageway. A moment later, Warrick appeared.
‘Be gentle with her,’ Alan cautioned. And then he disappeared into the passageway, closing the door behind him.
