The morning sky was tinted rose, and ahead, Warrick could see the smoke rising from fires near the king’s encampment. He wanted to pull away from the others to seek out Rosamund, but there were so many at the encampment, he had no way of knowing where she was.
The Sheriff of Westmorland drew his horse alongside Warrick’s. ‘I will speak to the king on your behalf,’ he said. ‘You and your men have earned your freedom for what you did.’
He said nothing, but nodded in acknowledgment of Ranulf’s words. Right now, he needed to reach his wife. He had to ensure her safety, and time was not his ally.
‘I want you to stay here and guard our prisoner,’ Ranulf continued. ‘The Scottish king cannot escape our custody.’
Warrick hesitated and spoke. ‘First, by your leave, I must seek out my wife. She is here with her father.’ They were so close, he could not delay any longer.
‘Protecting our hostage is far more important,’ Ranulf argued. ‘Your woman can wait.’
‘I fear for her safety, for she is with child.’ The very mention of Rosamund’s unborn babe filled him with a sharp tang of fear. He doubted not that Owen would attempt to harm them. ‘I have not seen her in months.’
Ranulf studied him a moment. ‘You fought well among us, and we would not have defeated our enemies without you. If it is your will to see her for a moment, I will allow this. But I will expect to see you among my men by noontide.’
‘I will be there,’ he swore. He glanced back at Godfrey and Bennett, in a silent command for them to follow. They pulled ahead of the others, and Warrick ordered, ‘Help me find Rosamund.’
‘You need only look for Owen’s guards,’ Godfrey predicted. ‘She will be with them.’
With his men at his side, he rode into King Henry’s camp. Row by row, they searched the tents until he saw one with two guards standing outside it.
‘That one,’ Bennett said. ‘I recognise those men from Pevensham.’
Warrick dismounted, handing the reins off to Bennett before he approached the guards. Godfrey dismounted and followed. ‘Is Lady Pevensham within?’
‘No one may see her,’ the first answered. His hand rested upon his weapon.
‘Except me,’ Warrick countered. He struck the man hard across the jaw, disarming him in one motion.
The guard stumbled to the ground and Godfrey stepped forward, his sword pointed at the other. ‘Don’t,’ he warned.
Warrick pushed aside the tent flap and found Rosamund inside. The very sight of her shocked him, for she was indeed heavy with child for one who should have only had a slight pregnancy.
‘Warrick,’ she cried out, opening her arms to him. ‘I thought you were a prisoner.’
He crushed her into his embrace, so glad to see her. And in the moment she clung to him, he did not care about anything else. This was the woman he loved, the one he would die for. He kissed her hard, tasting the salt of her tears.
‘Did they let you go?’ she asked.
‘I was granted an hour to see you, but no, I must return to the commander.’ He was aware that his freedom was short-lived, but he intended to bring Rosamund to safety first.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Warrick slid his hands down her body, reassuring himself that she was all right. When he hesitated at her waist, she broke free of the kiss and guided his hands to their unborn child. ‘I tried to send word to you about this, I promise. The messengers could not find you.’
Her skin was hard and rounded, and he was startled at the tightness. But when he looked upon her face, there was stark fear instead of joy. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. He wondered if there was something wrong with the child.
She blanched at his question. ‘I do not know. I—I began bleeding this morn.’ Within her frightened voice, he recognised her terror. She had lost a child once before, and it might already be happening again.
His heart sank at the thought, and prayed that the unborn infant would be safe. This invisible battle was one he could not fight for his wife’s sake. All he could do was protect her as best he could against outside threats, such as Owen de Courcy.
‘Sit down,’ he bade her, and she obeyed. ‘Tell me what has happened.’
Rosamund confessed how Owen’s men had taken her, and a thunderous rage filled Warrick up inside. ‘This has to end,’ he insisted. ‘The man must be brought to justice.’
‘I agree,’ Rosamund said, ‘but already both of you must face the king.’
‘I intend to settle the matter in a trial by combat,’ he countered. He had no fear of Owen de Courcy and doubted not that he would win. He extended his hand to Rosamund. ‘Will you come with me when I speak with the king?’
She shook her head. ‘If I walk, I fear it may bring on the child. I must stay here.’ Her expression grew strained, and Warrick shared her worry. But he could not leave her in this tent.
