Owen moved back swiftly, and spun her away from the wall. His fist smashed against her jaw, and she dropped to the ground, pain flooding through her.
Dimly, she was aware of her door opening, and men’s voices arguing. She was barely conscious, but she heard Warrick speak.
‘If you ever touch her again, I will tie your entrails around your throat,’ he swore.
She raised her head and saw Warrick’s fist strike Owen across the face. The man crumpled, but Warrick continued to beat him until his fists were bloody.
One of the guards came into the room and tried to intervene. Warrick disarmed him in seconds and threw the weapon across the room. Then he unsheathed his blade, his eyes burning with hatred towards the soldier. ‘You call yourself loyal to my lady? Or were you hoping to raise yourself up with de Courcy?’
The guard backed away slowly and left the door open.
‘Are you all right?’ Warrick asked her. Rosamund couldn’t answer, but her cheek and jaw were already swelling up. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the hallway towards her husband’s chamber.
It was the safest place for her, she knew, but right now, she was trembling from fear. She had mistakenly believed she could shut out Owen de Courcy and live her life without any danger from him. Why had she believed it was only Pevensham he’d wanted? Now, it was clear that he had covetedallof his brother’s property, even his wife.
Warrick lowered her to sit upon a chair, but her husband was sleeping and did not awaken. He must have taken a sleeping potion to not notice them.
A moment later, Warrick brought a linen cloth soaked in cool water. ‘Put this against your cheek, Rosamund.’
She did, and the cold water eased the pain slightly. ‘Thank you.’
But even as she rested the cool cloth against her face, another yearning rose within her. She needed Warrick to hold her in his arms, to comfort her and keep her safe.
God help her, he had crumpled her defences. And she did not know what would happen between them now.
Her cheeks were blazing, but she forced herself to look at him. In a low voice, she murmured, ‘I know what happened last night. And it was a mistake.’
His expression was stone, revealing none of his thoughts. Instead, he commanded, ‘Stay here and bolt the door.’
In other words, he held no regrets. His gaze fixed upon her for a moment, and then drifted over her body in an invisible caress. Her breasts tightened in memory of his mouth suckling them, and heat pooled between her legs. Warrick was merciless in his silent perusal, and it was an invisible weapon against her defences.
‘I will return soon.’ His voice was calm, but she detected a merciless air within it.
‘Where are you going?’
He didn’t answer, but repeated, ‘Bolt the door.’ Then he slid his hand over her hair in a caress and departed.
She obeyed him, feeling abandoned and alone after she closed the door. But then, she should have known she was not safe. She’d wanted to believe that her own people would defend her...but they, too, were afraid of Owen.
It was now clear that she could not stay, and Alan could no longer protect her. Owen would find a way to hurt her, even if she imprisoned herself within her chamber.
She stood from her chair and went to sit at her husband’s bedside. Alan was deathly pale, so weakened, it was a wonder he could draw breath. She had believed it was her duty to stay with him until the end, to hold vigil with every hour that passed.
But now, she no longer knew what was right. It felt as if God were punishing her for falling in love with the wrong man. Alan had given her a life of comfort and kindness thus far, but she had been unable to give him more than friendship. And right now, she was frustrated and angry with him for what he had done.
Did he truly need a child so badly that he would deceive her in that way? And when she had tried to protest, he had demanded her silence. She didn’t know how he had found the strength to come to her chamber last night and stay long enough to ensure that the deed was done. A weariness passed over her, and she didn’t know what to say to him.
‘Rosamund,’ he murmured, reaching a hand towards her. She couldn’t bring herself to take it...not just yet.
‘I am here.’ A restlessness brewed inside her, and she felt the tide of anger building up. Her jaw throbbed from Owen’s blow, and a part of her was resentful that she was caught in a war between brothers.
‘I am sorry for this,’ Alan murmured. ‘But I do not regret what had to be done.’ His voice was slurred, and he closed his eyes once again.
She gripped her hands together, feeling lost and alone. It became clear that she had truly misunderstood her marriage to Alan. She had believed that he loved her, but she couldn’t imagine how he could give her over to another man if that were true. Her heart was bruised at the thought.
Rosamund watched over him for a moment, and it suddenly occurred to her that there was a reason why some of the soldiers had turned their fealty towards Owen. She had remained at her husband’s bedside for so long, the people hardly knew who to turn to. She had believed it was the right thing to do, to watch over a dying man.
But by doing so, she had left their people without a leader. They needed someone strong to handle disputes and to ensure that they were protected from enemies.
