The bed was a constant reminder of all the wicked things he'd done to her last night. And how her body wanted him to do it all again. Every time she sat, the tenderness in her arse prompted another flurry of recollections. Now, her sex was swollen and slick, hot and achy. She couldn't be sure her hunger for food wasn't nearly as strong as her hunger for pleasure.
What had the man done to her? She was no fool and knew well what happened in the marriage bed, but last night was unlike anything she could have imagined. Recalling how he'd bound her and left her bared and helpless before him stirred another barrage of yearning.
The sound of the key drew her from her thoughts. She smoothed her damp palms against her dress and straightened her back. The door swung open. The sight of her husband filling the frame never failed to provoke that breathless sensation of excitement. She only hoped he didn't notice.
He stepped into the room, followed by Thomas, who carried a large tray laden with food. The aroma of meat and vegetables teased her and her stomach rumbled again. She gave an embarrassed glance at her husband. He merely smiled.
Yet, somehow, Gillian had the sense he possessed some nefarious plan. She didn't know if she felt more fear or anticipation.
"We will sup here this eve. Then we have much to discuss."
She gave a nod. How much would be actual discussion? An ominous warning echoed in her thoughts.
Thomas laid the tray down and departed. Royce closed and barred the door. He waved a hand toward the chair.
"Sit. Eat your meal."
She remained silent as she obeyed, knowing that even if she had no hunger, she would need to eat for the coming night.
The stew was warm and filling, the ale crisp and satisfying. They ate in silence, but he never took his gaze from her. Worried she might choke, she refrained from asking why he studied her so intently. When at last she had taken her last bite, she wiped her lips with the cloth and turned to him.
"Is there something you wish to say, my lord?"
He gave another one of those curious smiles, the ones she couldn't quite tell if they were genuine or masked some other dastardly thought.
"There is a lot I want to ask you. I learned something interesting from the captured rebels. Incidentally, they'll be hanged once the king arrives."
"Here?"
"Aye. Is there some problem with that?"
"Nay, they should be hanged for what they did, but why here? 'Tis not something that's ever happened at Lyndon."
"As a lesson to the traitor in our midst."
She held his stare steadily, his tawny eyes dark with suspicion. Did he think she was the traitor? Convincing him of her loyalty might prove to be a bigger task than she'd first thought.
"You truly believe someone here is a traitor?"
"There are many Welsh here who would protect Godwin. He is distantly related to Llewellyn. As are you."
"I wondered when you would accuse me."
"I did not accuse you."
She shook her head. "Aye, you just did. By claiming I share a bloodline with Godwin. I don't."
"Are you sure?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Aye. My father told me the tales of my mother's heritage were false. They made them up so the marriage contract would not be broken. 'Twas the only way Edward would accept the marriage."
She'd been told the story many times by her father, which proved how far he would go to keep the woman he loved. Gillian had longed for a man to love her in such a way. She had ended up with a debauched, brutal and emotionless man. A momentary despair threatened to suffocate her before she forced it aside.
"I see. Why does no one else know?"
"If they did, word could reach the king. Not that it mattered. She died when I was a child."
"When did your father marry Anne?"
