‘It’s not safe, Rosamund.’ He understood her fears, but Owen’s men had found her already. ‘I will send Godfrey and Bennett to bring a litter. We must find a place of sanctuary for you.’ He kissed her again and opened the tent flap, giving orders to his men.
‘Wait,’ Rosamund pleaded. She struggled to stand and caught both his hands. ‘If there is a choice between saving Pevensham or saving your life, let go of the estate. It does not matter any more. All that matters to me is you.’ Her voice filled up with emotion, and she moved into his arms. ‘I love you, Warrick, and I am so sorry I never told you about our daughter.’
Her words slid through him like another embrace, and the strength of her love humbled him. He held her close, pressing a kiss against her hair. ‘I was angry with you for keeping secrets. But that was in the past, and I will not let anything happen to you or to this child.’ He rested his forehead against hers. ‘I love you too, Rosamund. And I will see to it that Owen never bothers you again.’
She braved a smile through her fear, resting her hands upon their baby. ‘Pray that it will be so.’
A noise outside interrupted their reverie, and he moved his hand to his sword. Seconds later, soldiers invaded the tent. Warrick shielded Rosamund, unsheathing his blade at the sight of them. There was no sign of Bennett or Godfrey.
‘You are commanded to come with us, Warrick de Laurent,’ one said. ‘By order of the king.’
Three other men tried to surround Rosamund, but he shoved them away from her. ‘Leave my wife alone. She is with child.’
‘We are under orders to bring her as well,’ another replied. ‘Under charges of adultery.’
Damn Owen for this. Fury blazed through him, and Warrick fought against the men who tried to seize his wife. It was impossible to wield his sword in such a small space without risk of hurting Rosamund. He smashed his fist against one man’s jaw when he heard his wife’s scream, and he swung another blow at a second soldier’s nose. But there were too many of them. He kept his sword aloft, trying to protect her, but the men surrounded them on all sides.
A hard blow caught his skull, and Warrick dropped to his knees.
And then there was only darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
When the men brought Rosamund into the king’s presence, she could feel the cramping ache within her womb. She was terrified that she was losing this baby, just as she had before.Please God, let him live,she begged. The prayer was for both her unborn child and for her husband.
Warrick had regained consciousness by the time the men dragged him across the ground. His face was bleeding, and she saw another wound across his ribs. Several men had gathered, and she was not surprised to see Owen de Courcy among them. But she was grateful to see the familiar face of Father Francis. He stood at the back of the gathering, his simple brown robes blending among the other guests.
Henry Plantagenet stood with his arms crossed. The king was a stocky man with red hair and his stare held no mercy whatsoever. Another soldier spoke quietly to him, but Henry did not appear to care what the man had said.
‘We have little time for this matter,’ the king argued. ‘But we have been asked to dispense justice over the man who killed Alan de Courcy. There is also the question as to whether Lady Pevensham was with child prior to her husband’s death, which means the estate cannot be settled as of yet. Owen de Courcy claims that her child was conceived in adultery and that her child has no right to Pevensham. We will discover the truth this day.’
The king stared at Rosamund, and she felt his cold anger down to her bones. Owen’s claim, that he would see her burned for adultery, terrified her. She longed to flee this place, to surrender everything to protect her unborn baby.
And yet, what would that accomplish? A dawning realisation took hold, and she understood that she had been behaving like a pawn all her life. First, her father had manoeuvred her into a marriage she had never wanted. Then her husband had commanded her to obey his order to conceive a child with Warrick. Now, Owen de Courcy wanted to threaten everyone she held dear.
The man’s expression was smug, as if he fully expected both of them to die.
No. She could not stand by and let this happen. She had to stand up to him and fight for her loved ones and for the life she wanted. And even more, the people of Pevensham needed her to fight for them—for any ruler was better than Owen.
Alan had made sacrifices to protect his estate and the people. He had brought back the man his wife had loved, ensuring that she would wed Warrick upon his death. Did she not owe it to him, to do whatever was necessary to guard Pevensham and its people?
The king turned his stare to Warrick. ‘You have been accused of strangling Alan de Courcy. What have you to say for this?’
‘Owen de Courcy was responsible for his brother’s death,’ Warrick interrupted. ‘He hired his brother’s commander, Fitzwarren, to kill Alan. He has no right to take Pevensham with blood on his hands.’
‘He speaks lies, my lord and king,’ Owen interrupted.
‘We did not give you leave to speak,’ Henry retorted. ‘This matter will be decided quickly, and with witnesses. If you cannot maintain your silence, you will be flogged.’
Rosamund knew that the king would see it done. But she could not yet know whether justice would be met this day, especially given the violence towards Warrick when he was first brought here. She felt lightheaded, her knees trembling, but she forced herself to remain standing.
‘We will hear the priest’s words first,’ the king said, beckoning for Father Francis to come forward.
The priest walked slowly among the people, and he did not even look at her. Rosamund felt her skin grow icy, and the room seemed to sway. She leaned against a soldier, and it felt as if the voices in the room echoed through a tunnel.
She barely heard what Father Francis was saying, but he produced a document for Henry to see.
‘I am not convinced this is real,’ the king argued. ‘Although Lady Pevensham might have been with child, as Alan de Courcy claims, I cannot imagine he would demand that his wife marry Warrick de Laurent upon his death. Not without a dozen witnesses to sign it. And furthermore, there is no way to prove that the child was his.’ He waved his hand in dismissal.
