There was a moment of silence as if she were still uncertain of what to do. His abrupt departure seemed to leave her confused. She didn’t know that Alan had sworn he would witness the first joining. Warrick had suspected her husband would leave when he believed they were obeying his command, for no man was self-sacrificing enough to witness his wife with another man.
The kiss had been a distraction, but Warrick wasn’t a saint. This woman had haunted him for three years, and he had no qualms about taking anything she offered.
The soft rustle of fabric and sheets told him she had put on her shift once more. Then came her footsteps approaching. Rosamund moved towards the fire and sat down in a chair, staring at him. Her expression held wariness. ‘You made me believe I would have to...’ Her words drifted away, but he shook his head.
‘Alan was watching.’ For a time, he studied the glowing hearth, wondering what to do now. They had to delay for a length of time, making her husband believe that they were complying with his wishes. It was an elaborate ruse, but a necessary one.
More than that, he wanted to regain Rosamund’s trust. Alan wanted him to marry her upon his death, to keep her protected. The man’s health waned with each day, and it was certain he could not last through the end of the year. If Warrick accepted Lord Pevensham’s proposition that he wed Rosamund, he had a chance to gain the land he’d always wanted.
But only if there was an heir.
He sat in silence beside her, letting his mind drift as he tried to find a solution. Rosamund was a woman of honour and would not stray from her vows, no matter what Alan wanted. And yet, Warrick could not deny the temptation before him. Her kiss had pushed back the years of anger and regret, making him crave even more. He wanted this woman, wanted to give her a child and live beside her in this place. He had not lied about the three days Alan had granted them...and yet, she might despise him if he did seduce her.
They were damned, no matter which path they chose.
He looked around Rosamund’s bedchamber, searching for some way they could occupy the time. ‘Have you any dice or a game?’ he suggested. ‘Or is there some other way we could pass the time?’
She appeared puzzled a moment. ‘Do you mean to say that you didn’t intend to...to...claim me?’
He sat back in his chair, his gaze fixed upon her. ‘I wouldn’t refuse if that was what you wanted, Rosamund.’ He did desire this woman, and he had never forgotten what it was like to touch her. Even the stolen moment tonight had brought back the fire between them.
She crossed her arms, suddenly appearing vulnerable. ‘No. It’s not what I want.’ Her voice was the barest whisper, but her downcast gaze suggested something else. She tucked her knees beneath the hem of her shift, hiding her body as best she could. But he knew she had not been indifferent to his kiss, despite her protests.
Warrick stood and walked towards the opposite side of the room. Rosamund pointed towards a low table. ‘There may be dice inside there.’
It was a welcome distraction. He did not know how he would pass the time with her wearing so little and his body craving her touch. But he kept his yearnings under tight command.
Upon the table, he saw an iron box just larger than both of his hands. The metal held intricate carvings, and he couldn’t resist tracing the edge.
‘Alan bought it from a crusader,’ she said. ‘I sometimes wonder how old it is.’
Inside the box, he saw a set of bone dice and other objects from Jerusalem. A small pouch held sand, and he spied a dried olive branch beside it.
He tested the weight of the dice and brought them over. ‘We will cast lots for different wagers. That will pass the time quickly enough.’
And God willing, he would get through this night.
‘What do you want to wager?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He could have told her higher stakes, demanding a kiss or an intimate touch. Instead, he offered, ‘Answers. Whoever wins has to answer a question with only honesty.’
Rosamund seemed to consider it for a moment, and then nodded. ‘So be it.’ She stood from her chair and joined him on the floor beside the hearth. The firelight revealed the thin material of her shift, and beneath the linen, he saw the rosy outline of her nipples. He forced his attention back to the dice, and said, ‘We will roll to see who goes first.’ They both took a turn, and Rosamund won the round. She gathered up the dice and studied him a moment, a slight smile on her face.
‘Ask me a question,’ he said.
She thought a moment and then asked, ‘Why did you come to Pevensham and answer Alan’s summons?’
He took the dice from her, wondering how honest he should be. It had nothing to do with either Alan or Owen...only Rosamund.
‘Because I was angry,’ he admitted. ‘I hated you for leaving me to marry him. And I wanted to see if Alan had made you as miserable as I was.’ He rolled the dice between his fingertips. ‘But he didn’t, did he?’
‘My father forced me to marry a man who was in love with me,’ she said quietly. ‘Alan did everything he could to make me happy. And in time, it was enough.’ Her expression held a trace of sadness. It did seem that, although Alan had given her a home and wealth, it wasn’t the same. Warrick took a small measure of satisfaction from that.
He rolled the dice and then passed them over. Rosamund picked them up and tossed the bone dice, winning a second time. ‘What is it you truly want from all of this, Warrick? Is it land?’
He shrugged. ‘I would like a place of my own, yes.’ One where he could be apart from his father and live in peace. The idea of Ireland was appealing, but it was far more than that. Even if there was no heir, this felt like a second chance at the life he’d wanted.
‘Pevensham would give you that status, wouldn’t it?’
