Warrick did not prompt her for an answer, but her silence bothered him a great deal. He guided her inside the gates and sent word to David, in the hopes that his friend would give Rosamund a place to stay.
When they entered the fortress, he was less certain that this was a good place for her. Although it was well defended, the interior held signs of neglect. And there didn’t appear to be many women anywhere nearby.
He gave their horses over to a stable lad and kept Rosamund at his side. Another soldier guided them inside where he found David passed out upon a trestle table. His friend had lost weight, and his hair was unkempt. An empty pitcher and a fallen wooden goblet revealed that the man had drunken himself into a stupor.
He shook David’s shoulder, and when his friend would not awaken, he seized another pitcher of water and dumped it upon the man’s head. David came up sputtering, and demanded, ‘Why would you interrupt a sleeping man?’
‘You were drunk,’ Warrick said. ‘Hardly sleeping.’ He set down the pitcher and added, ‘I came to ask if we could stay here for the night before we continue our journey.’
His friend rubbed the water from his hair and glared at him. ‘I ought to throw you out for waking me up.’ But his gaze narrowed upon Rosamund. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is Lady Rosamund of Pevensham. We intend to marry this night before we continue to her father’s house.’
David’s expression turned grim. ‘You could have chosen a better place than this for a wedding, de Laurent.’ To Rosamund, he apologised, ‘I fear Kingsmere has not been the same since my wife died.’
Warrick had not heard of Catherine’s death, but it must have been recent, to see his friend still caught up in grief. He could understand the man’s desire to remain drunk.
‘I am sorry to hear of it,’ he said. ‘And I hope we are not burdening you with our visit.’
David shrugged. ‘I will give you both a place to sleep, and our priest can hear your vows.’
Rosamund drew nearer and said, ‘I thank you for your kindness, Lord Kingsmere.’
He waved a hand and sighed. ‘I apologise that we were unprepared for guests, but I will help you as I am able.’ He thought a moment and said, ‘There may be a gown you could wear. You can look among Catherine’s belongings. I know she would not have minded.’
Warrick echoed Rosamund’s murmured thanks, and David staggered to his feet. He led them towards a wooden partition at the back of the space, and there was a single narrow bed there. ‘It’s not much, but it’s all I have to offer.’
Rosamund eyed it with gratefulness, and Warrick offered, ‘Why don’t you sleep for a time, and I will awaken you later?’
She lay down upon the bed and collapsed with exhaustion. Though Warrick wished he could join her, he intended to use this opportunity for wedding preparations. It would take a great deal of time to arrange it all, but he wanted this marriage to be better than their first union.
He walked alongside David, back to the gathering space. In a low voice, he added, ‘We are not safe here, my friend.’ He explained their circumstances, adding, ‘Rosamund must be protected at all times. Owen de Courcy will want her dead, along with her unborn child.’
Although the lie had slipped from him as a means of protecting her, a part of him wondered if it could be true. They had only spent the one night together, but it was possible. And if she were, then the child was his.
An aching emotion caught up within him, though Rosamund might not want it to be so. He had never let himself imagine the idea of having a family. After he had lost Rosamund three years ago, he had given up any thought of it, for she was the only woman who had ever seemed to look beyond his lowly circumstances. He would never be the son his father wanted, nor could Edward ever see the truth and forgive him.
A voice inside him warned that she was reluctant to marry and even more wary of bearing a child.
David’s gaze narrowed, and he asked, ‘Are Owen de Courcy’s men in pursuit?’
‘I have no doubt of it.’ He followed David outside the dwelling and into the courtyard. ‘But we will not stay long enough to endanger you. Only long enough to be wedded, before I take her on to safety.’
As Warrick approached the other soldiers, he could only hope that Rosamund would be contented with the life he could give her.
Chapter Eleven
Rosamund walked towards the stone chapel, feeling the rise of nerves under her skin. David had given her a gown that had once belonged to his wife, and the emerald silk bliaud fitted her perfectly. The long sleeves were tight against her arms, and the skirts brushed the ground. Her dark hair was braided back beneath a white veil, and she walked alongside Bennett and Godfrey. It was unusual to marry at night, for normally people were supposed to wed in the morning and hold a feast afterwards. But she understood the necessity of wedding Warrick as soon as possible.
Her heart was pounding, and her fingers were cold as she approached the chapel. A part of her wanted to feel overcome by joy. But she couldn’t help but sense the shadow of uncertainty and danger—almost as if she didn’t deserve to be happy.
Warrick was waiting for her with the priest outside the chapel, along with David and the other villagers. He was holding a lit candle in one hand, and he reached over to light the candle of one of the wedding guests. She realised, then, that each of the people held a candle. One by one, they lit the flames, until the gathering space was filled with candlelight.
Rosamund couldn’t imagine how much he had spent on the candles, but it transformed the courtyard into a sea of lights. She stared in wonder, realising that he had done this for her, to make this evening beautiful.
The gesture warmed her, reminding her that, although she’d had no choice in this wedding either, Warrick wanted her to be happy. And she smiled at him, feeling more at ease.
As the priest began the wedding with words of Latin, she took Warrick’s hands and realised they were as cold as her own. He, too, seemed somewhat nervous, though his expression remained steady.
