A sudden thought occurred to her, and she met his gaze. Was it possible that Alan knew she had not been a virgin on their wedding night? Her cheeks burned, but all she saw was a weary look upon his face.
For a moment, Warrick seemed to consider the proposition. She was aware of the subtle caress of his thumb against her palm, and the barest touch sent a yearning through her body. Her skin prickled beneath her kirtle, though she tried to force back the feelings.
His blue eyes stared into hers, and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of the young man she had once known. Her heart stumbled a moment as she tried to gather her composure. But the reassuring weight of his hand upon hers brought back a flood of sensual memories. A grim expression shielded his face, and he pulled his hand free. ‘There is nothing between Rosamund and me. She made her choice years ago.’
Alan tried to sit up, and she helped arrange the pillows to support him. ‘I suspected you might say this. But you also know that I was never the man she wanted.’
Rosamund closed her eyes, guilt sliding over her that she could not love him in the same way. She’d wanted to push aside her feelings for Warrick, but it had never come to pass.
‘We will find another way,’ she told her husband. ‘Warrick has a life of his own now, and I expected this.’
But Alan ignored her. ‘You wanted her enough to run away with her, de Laurent. She will not be safe with my brother, and you know this.’
‘She is not my responsibility.’ His words were cool, but she detected the bitterness within them.
‘No. But if you protect her, I will grant you the land you always wanted.’
A faint smile came over his face, and he asked, ‘In Ireland, I suppose?’
She didn’t quite understand his amusement, and Alan’s expression narrowed. ‘How do you know about my lands in Ireland?’
Warrick crossed his arms and regarded her husband. ‘Because Owen de Courcy offered the same bargain to me, along with your wife. As payment for killing you.’
Chapter Two
Warrick wasn’t surprised when Rosamund stood up from the bed and glared at him. ‘Get out.’ Fury burned upon her reddened cheeks. ‘I will not let you harm my husband.’
She looked like an avenging soldier, ready to gut him if he dared to lay a hand on Alan. Her determination only provoked his interest, for her green eyes seethed with anger and her lips tightened. Her hand rested upon her eating knife, and he didn’t doubt she would use it if necessary.
‘Calm yourself, my dear,’ Alan intervened. ‘If de Laurent intended to kill me, he wouldn’t have told me this first. He could have done so already, and neither of us is strong enough to stop him.’
‘Indeed.’ But Warrick’s attention was fixed upon Rosamund. ‘Do you intend to stab me with that blade?’
‘I might.’
He didn’t miss the fury on her face. Rosamund might appear to be a soft, demure lady, but she had a spine of steel.
‘I presume you have no intention of murdering me in my bed, de Laurent?’ Alan mused softly.
‘No. But I thought I should come and warn you of your brother’s intent. He is no friend to you.’
‘I am aware of this.’ Alan’s expression turned grim. ‘Although he has his own property at Northleigh, Owen has fallen deeply into debt. I suspect the vultures are circling him for repayment, even now. He has coveted my lands and castle since our father died four years ago. I will do all that I can to prevent him from inheriting Pevensham.’
His voice took on a different tone and strangely, Rosamund took a step away from her husband’s bedside. She looked pained at what he was about to say, as if she wanted to shrink back and retreat within the walls.
‘You had another reason for summoning me here, didn’t you?’ Warrick predicted. He kept his gaze fixed upon Rosamund, knowing that she held the answers.
Alan gave a nod. ‘It is a most...unusual request. But one that is necessary to protect my wife and my lands.’ He gestured towards the chamber walls as if they were not there. ‘If you agree, then all of this would belong to you.’
Lord Pevensham’s offer made little sense. Warrick was no blood relative, nor was there any means of him inheriting a place like Pevensham.
‘It’s not possible,’ he said. But his gaze passed over Alan and then Rosamund as he wondered what the pair of them had plotted.
‘You understand why I do not wish for my brother to inherit,’ Alan continued. ‘He is a cruel man who would threaten my serfs, bring my estates to the brink of destruction, and harm my wife. I have worked all my life, alongside my father, to make Pevensham prosperous.’ The sincerity upon the man’s face made it clear that de Courcy was indeed the sort of lord who wanted to protect his people. ‘When I am gone, I can arrange to give Pevensham into your hands, with Rosamund at your side.’
The offer struck him speechless. Why would Alan de Courcy consider such a thing? They were virtually strangers. It made no sense at all.
‘If I were to marry Rosamund, Pevensham still would not be mine,’ he argued. ‘She might have a dower portion, but—’
