It was indeed something far more. Not only Berta’s betrayal but also Rosamund’s feelings of uncertainty about the future. If Alan lived, then she had to return to the lonely marriage she had endured for three years.
And now that Warrick had loved her once again, she did not know if she could return quietly into the shadow of that life. His very presence ignited a desire within her veins until she wanted to feel his touch once again. But she could never admit it.
‘I feel so powerless in my own home,’ she said at last. The weight of guilt burdened her spirit. ‘And then Alan told me it was not my place to give orders to our men.’
‘If he is too weak to lead them, then who will?’
She retreated into the shadow of the battlements, feeling restless. ‘It has to be me. But he thinks you should lead our men until he gets better.’
Warrick’s expression remained stoic. He leaned against the stone wall and predicted, ‘You do not want me to take command, do you?’
Rosamund couldn’t find the right words to speak. She was frustrated with her husband and with herself. ‘I know he is trying to put you in a position of power.’
‘I am not undermining either of you.’ He set down his helm. ‘But it would allow me to offer my protection. I know how to train the men, and I know how to ensure your safety.’
She saw the sincerity in his eyes and acceded, ‘I suppose I have little choice. My own men do not obey me, and my husband believes I am incapable of leading them.’ She leaned against the stone beside him. ‘He was angry with me for punishing Berta. But he would have done the same in my place.’
‘Likely worse,’ Warrick agreed. He eyed her a moment and lowered his voice. ‘Has Alan mistreated you?’
She shook her head. ‘But he was angry with me. I have not seen him that way for a long time.’ It occurred to her that Alan was behaving like a jealous husband. But it was his fault. He had forced her into this situation by summoning Warrick. And now, they could not undo what had happened between them.
‘I should go,’ she told Warrick. ‘I just needed a moment to clear my head. Go and speak to our men if you wish.’
He caught her hand and held it lightly. ‘I care not if Alan is your husband, Rosamund. I will never let him harm you.’
‘He wouldn’t.’ But she understood his meaning. With a sigh, she squeezed his hand in return. ‘Thank you for helping us.’
The gesture was meant in friendship, but he would not release her hand. She grew conscious of the heat of his palm, the strength of his fingers. And she remembered how gently he had touched her, and the shocking sensation of his caress inside her.
His eyes burned into hers, but neither spoke of last night. It was as if their silent refusal to speak of it was a means of pushing back the terrible guilt. But he had played his part, and so had she. They could not undo that forbidden night.
And she didn’t want to.
‘I’m not here for Alan’s sake, Rosamund.’ Then he leaned in and kissed her forehead. ‘I am here for you.’
Chapter Nine
Warrick asked his own soldiers to accompany him, for their loyalty was unquestioned. ‘Guard my back,’ he murmured to Godfrey and Bennett under his breath. Although it was doubtful that the commander would initiate an attack, neither would the man welcome the changes he was about to impose.
He approached a tall stocky man with a brown beard, the same commander who had ordered Owen’s men to surround him. Warrick kept his hand upon his sword and began with, ‘I understand you are the commander of Lord Pevensham’s troops.’
‘I am.’ The man tried to straighten, but he saw eye to eye with Warrick and lacked a height advantage. ‘Aldred Fitzwarren is my name.’
‘You are relieved of your duties, Fitzwarren.’ Warrick regarded him and added, ‘I have replaced you, by order of Lord Pevensham. I was asked to oversee the troops and ensure that his men are loyal only to him.’
At that, Aldred unsheathed his sword. ‘You have no right to usurp my place.’
‘When you allow Lady Pevensham to be attacked within her own home and prevent her from visiting her husband, you lack the leadership to ensure that your men obey commands.’ Warrick unsheathed his own weapon. ‘There will be no men at Pevensham who are loyal to Owen de Courcy. Only those who have sworn fealty to Lord Pevensham will remain.’
‘I must speak with him,’ Fitzwarren demanded. ‘I will not believe this until I have heard it for myself.’
Of course the man wouldn’t believe it. Warrick hardly expected otherwise. ‘I will escort you to Lord Pevensham’s chamber. But first, sheathe your sword.’
Fitzwarren behaved as if he had not heard him. In a curt voice, he ordered, ‘Warrick de Laurent, take your men and go. Before I have you removed by Lord Pevensham’s soldiers.’
‘It appears he wants to do this the hard way,’ Warrick muttered to his men. He detected a smirk from his man-at-arms. ‘I think we should go and speak to Pevensham,’ he offered quietly to Fitzwarren. ‘It is not my wish to humiliate you before your own men.’
‘You couldn’t if you wanted to, de Laurent. I have trained for over ten years, and I—’
