She suspected that her husband was angry with her, and hesitated. ‘If you do, Alan may attack. He is...not himself right now.’
‘We have an intruder among us,’ he cautioned. ‘I will ensure that there is no threat to you or to him.’
She inclined her head, even though she had no wish for him to go. ‘So be it.’
He departed her room, and she grew aware of the silence all around her. She sat down upon her bed, drawing her knees up. A strange coldness washed over her, a chill she could not dispel. She couldn’t understand where it had come from or why, but her hands would not stop shaking.
From deep within, came the undeniable urge to go to her husband’s chamber. Something was wrong—she knew it in her bones. Although Rosamund told herself it was foolish to feel this way, she picked up her cloak and covered herself before opening her door and walking out into the hallway.
The door to Alan’s bedchamber was open. As if under a spell, she crossed the threshold and saw Warrick kneeling upon the floor beside Alan’s fallen body.
‘Someone strangled him,’ he said at last. ‘Your husband is dead.’
Chapter Ten
For a moment, she didn’t seem to have heard him. Her face had gone deathly pale, and Rosamund took a tentative step into the bedchamber.
‘H-how did this happen?’ she managed. Her hands were shaking, but she continued towards Alan’s body lying upon the bed. His throat was reddened and bruised, with the tell-tale mark of a knotted rope. Alan had clawed at his neck with his fingernails, and now he lay motionless on the bed.
Warrick kept his distance, knowing she needed to see it for herself. ‘I assume Fitzwarren was responsible. Or another assassin hired by Owen, possibly. But I promise you, we will find the man who did this.’
It infuriated him that their own soldiers had failed to protect their overlord. Were this his estate, he would have removed most of the soldiers and brought in his own men. There was no loyalty to Rosamund, only fealty to a murderer. For that was what Owen de Courcy was.
It was not safe here any more. Rosamund needed to leave immediately, else she risked being imprisoned by Owen. His mind spun off with a thousand things that needed to be done. A Mass would have to be said for Alan and his body buried. Warrick needed to marry Rosamund to bring her under his protection.
And it was still possible for a pregnancy to happen and complete Alan’s plan, if she had not yet conceived.
But the greatest problem was that he trusted no one at Pevensham. At any moment, the men and women could turn on them. He had originally thought about taking Rosamund to Ireland, but now he needed to take her somewhere closer, perhaps to her father’s estate. He doubted she would want to go, but Harold de Beaufort would not allow his daughter’s future to be threatened.
She was kneeling beside Alan now, straightening his hair and adjusting his clothing. ‘Send for Father Francis. He will know what to do now.’
He could see the fear and devastation upon her face. Whatever marriage she had made with Alan, she would grieve his death.
‘I will command him to come,’ he answered her. With the intruder still on the grounds of Pevensham, he would not leave Rosamund alone for a single moment. Her life was in danger, whether she knew it or not.
Warrick summoned one of the servants and gave orders for the priest to be brought to Alan’s chamber. He said nothing about Lord Pevensham’s death. For now, he intended to keep this a secret until they learned who the intruder was.
Rosamund was pacing within the chamber, her hands tightly squeezed together. ‘I don’t know what to do, Warrick. I feel responsible for this. I should have been with him.’
‘You would be dead, if you were.’
‘Even so, I cannot believe this has happened. I am certain that Owen is involved in his death. But I worry that someone will thinkIwanted Alan dead.’ She paused in her walking and met his gaze. ‘No matter what my feelings are for you, I never wanted him to die like this.’
Neither did he. The assailant had slipped past their defences while he had been distracted with Rosamund. He blamed himself for Alan’s death, though he had done nothing wrong. A hollow emptiness filled him, along with the sense that he should have been more alert towards danger.
Rosamund was trembling, her arms crossed over her body. Warrick crossed the bedchamber and took her into his arms. ‘We cannot stay at Pevensham. It’s not safe for either of us.’
‘I know. But I am afraid if we leave, it makes us look responsible for what happened.’
Warrick cared not what others thought—for now, he wanted Rosamund away from the danger. He would sort out the rest, even if it meant involving the king.
‘You did nothing wrong.’ He held her tightly and stroked her hair. ‘But we are leaving as soon as the priest arrives. There is no other choice.’
She gripped him in an embrace. ‘And what if Owen arrives? Please do not let him enter the gates, I beg of you.’
He agreed with her silent belief that Owen de Courcy was somehow responsible for his brother’s death. And yet, they both knew that the man was now the heir to Pevensham. They had no choice but to allow him to enter.
‘I will delay it for as long as possible.’ It was the only promise he could make. He drew back from her, and she went to sit beside her husband’s body.
