Warrick seized a shield from Bennett and backhanded the commander’s face with it. The man went reeling, and three soldiers charged forward.
Warrick held out his sword. ‘No. This is between us. I am obeying orders from Alan de Courcy. Go and ask him yourself.’ He nodded towards the castle and one of the men departed, likely intending to find out the truth. So be it.
He kept his sword extended as the commander staggered to his feet. Blood dripped from the corner of his lip, and fury blazed in his eyes. He let out a battle roar and charged with his sword. Warrick faced him and deflected the blow with his shield. His shoulder flexed, and he held steady while the man wielded his sword. He was well aware that every man was watching this battle.
He had spent three years training among the strongest of the king’s fighters in Normandy, and while Fitzwarren might have experience, Warrick had learned how to break the rules. He toyed with the commander, deflecting each blow and causing the man to become tired. Every move was defensive, but he did nothing to end the fight. He needed to gain the respect of every soldier, and that could only happen if it was a sound defeat.
Sweat poured down the commander’s face, and he grunted as he swung his sword. Warrick raised his shield and used his strength to push back against the Fitzwarren. With his full body weight, he pressed the man back and saw him struggle to hold up the sword.
Time to end the fight. Warrick spun abruptly, causing his opponent to stumble forward. He tripped the man hard and then drove him to the ground, his sword pointed against the man’s throat.
‘Yield,’ he said quietly.
The commander’s expression held regret, but he muttered, ‘I yield.’
Warrick kept his sword blade in place while one of the soldiers hurried down the steps leading from thedonjon.When he reached the men, he was out of breath. ‘It is as he says. Lord Pevensham has placed de Laurent in command of our forces.’
Warrick met their gazes and one by one, he saw the grudging respect in their eyes. Then he sheathed his sword and helped the commander up from the ground.
Three days later
Rosamund waited until early evening to return to Alan’s chamber. With each day, he seemed to grow stronger and more alert. He sat up when she arrived and remarked, ‘I heard that Warrick has done well commanding my soldiers.’
‘He has, my lord. And I believe he spent most of the day overseeing them train.’ She kept her attention fixed upon her hands, so as not to betray her thoughts. She had distanced herself from Warrick, but she would not easily forget his strength and power while fighting. It had never been an even match, and every man here now knew that he was in command.
Memory flooded through her, of Warrick’s mouth upon her skin. The vision slid deep inside, heating the very blood within her veins. God help her, she yearned for this man. The walls of honour had fallen, breaking apart her willpower.
‘Good.’ Alan studied her for a time, and said at last, ‘I am feeling better now. I intend to leave this bed to regain the rest of my health.’
She managed to nod and smile. ‘It pleases me to hear it.’
‘Does it?’ There was a hard tone in his voice, as if he didn’t quite believe her. ‘I suppose when a man is being poisoned within his own home, it would be difficult to recover. Were it not for your maid, I would never have fallen ill.’
There was an invisible finger of accusation pointed at her, and it took Rosamund aback. ‘I never had any idea Berta would do such a thing. I trusted her.’
Alan’s gaze held little trust at all. ‘And yet, you allowed her to live.’
The bitterness in his voice bothered her. ‘Do you truly believe Owen will let her son live?’ She shook her head. ‘I could have ordered her slain, but there is no greater punishment for her than to lose her only child. All I did was give her a chance, because of the woman she used to be. I have known her all my life.’
He sobered at that. ‘I suppose we all trusted her.’
His words were likely meant as a slight apology, but she stared him in the eyes. ‘Believe me when I say that I do not think she meant for you to die. She was trying to save her son.’
‘And by poisoning me for so long, she made us all believe that I was dying. She took away my strength so I could not sire a child.’ Alan moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. Rosamund felt the urge to move away but forced herself to remain. He reached out to touch her cheek, but the coolness of his fingers kindled no desire whatsoever. Instead, she wanted to flinch.
You are his wife,she reminded herself.He has every right to touch you.
But the thought of returning to her old life, sending Warrick away, was like drowning. She closed her eyes, trying to force away the guilt.
And yet, he saw it on her face.
‘You did what I asked, didn’t you?’ he murmured. ‘You let him claim you that night.’
She said nothing at all, for they both knew the truth. And yet, she could not understand the expression upon his face. It almost seemed like...jealousy. A flash of annoyance struck her, for this had been his idea. She had never intended to be unfaithful to Alan. But now, he appeared angry at his own scheme.
‘You may be with child, as I demanded of you,’ he continued.
She could not give an answer, for she did not trust herself to speak. Alan touched her chin, and he leaned in to kiss her lips in his own mark of ownership.
