She gasped when he stroked her aroused breasts, and the sensation echoed between her thighs. She understood what he was doing, that he was still angry about her refusal to wed him. This was his vengeance, and by making her feel desire, it was an invisible weapon.
‘You still have feelings for me,’ he said darkly, moving his hands down to her waist. ‘And I won’t let any man touch you ever again. You are still my wife in the eyes of God, Rosamund, just as you have always been.’
She touched her bruised lips, feeling the shame wash over her. Alan had never made her feel this way, and her treacherous body craved more of Warrick’s touch.
‘Why would you do this?’ she demanded. ‘You know this isn’t honourable.’ She stared back into his blue eyes and read the jealousy there. This man had claimed her innocence and now, he wanted her back.
‘It was a mistake to wed him, and you know this. He commanded you to wed me after he dies. And you will.’
* * *
Warrick took her back to the castle later that morning, and spent the remainder of the time watching Owen de Courcy. He let himself slip into the role of a silent soldier, listening for any threats towards Rosamund and ordered his friends to do the same. No one spoke of her or of Alan, but he sensed the vultures’ circling presence.
When he hung behind the group of men, Owen spied him at last. He walked alongside him, keeping his face neutral.
‘I saw you escort Lady Pevensham earlier. My brother tells me she is with child.’ He spoke with an air of indifference, but Warrick sensed the sharp edge beneath his words.
‘I do not know if she is or not.’
Owen slowed his pace until the soldiers were further away. Then he dropped his voice to the barest whisper. ‘Why is my brother still alive?’
‘I told you I would not be your assassin. I came at his summons.’
‘And what did he want from you?’
Warrick paused a moment and then said, ‘He wanted protection for his wife after he dies. He wants me to marry Rosamund.’
Owen shrugged. ‘Pevensham will belong to me, soon enough. And if you prove your loyalty, I have no objection to your marriage.’ He stopped walking and regarded him. ‘But I will not allow an infant to threaten what is rightfully mine. She lost her first child, and she will lose this one, too. I promise you that.’
A sudden flare of rage washed over him at the words. Warrick took a step closer and met the man’s threat with one of his own. ‘You will not lay a hand upon her.’
Owen only smiled. ‘You can do nothing, de Laurent. For if you try to interfere, I will see to it that you are blamed for my brother’s death.’
Warrick remained motionless after the man left, his mind seething with rage. The snare of Owen’s plans was tightening all around them, and he needed to free Rosamund and himself. She could not remain here with such a ruthless man.
The urge came over him, to take her away and flee to Ireland. But if he abducted her—even willingly—he had nothing to offer, not even a home. And she would come to despise him for it.
He decided to speak with Alan. Although the man believed himself to be safe, nothing could be further from the truth.
As he crossed the courtyard, he saw Rosamund’s maid pass by. The young woman looked as if she had been weeping, and her expression held worry. He wondered if Alan de Courcy’s condition had worsened, and he stopped her.
‘How is Lord Pevensham?’
The maid paled and shook her head. ‘He is gravely weak, but still living.’ With that, she excused herself and hurried away.
Warrick’s instincts rose on alert. Something had happened, and though he suspected Alan’s death was imminent, he could not stand back and do nothing. He entered the donjon and went up the spiral stairs leading to de Courcy’s bedchamber. Two guards stood outside the man’s door, and Warrick said, ‘Let me pass. I must speak with Lord Pevensham.’
‘We have our orders not to let anyone pass,’ the first guard said. ‘Our lord is resting.’ He wore chainmail armour and held a spear. The other guard was heavier, and his grim expression revealed a trace of concern.
‘And who gave these orders?’
‘Owen de Courcy,’ the first said.
It didn’t surprise him to hear it. But it did seem that Owen was intensifying his efforts to ensure his inheritance. For all he knew, Alan could be alone and suffering.
‘Let me pass,’ he insisted. Before he could force his way through, another voice interrupted.
‘Step aside.’ It was Rosamund approaching, and her voice was soft and commanding. ‘My lord husband summoned this man.’ She stepped forward, and her presence seemed to confuse the men. ‘I am the Lady of Pevensham. Put your weapons away.’
