What horrible secret had she been hiding from him?
Stunned, he struggled to think clearly.
“Then find her something suitable to wear,” he said. “Is she still in the room where I left her?”
“Aye, m’lord.”
Sending the woman on her way, Maxton headed straight for the chamber. The door was closed and, in hindsight, he should have knocked, but he was so determined to get to the truth of the situation that he barged in without thinking.
The chamber was lit by firelight and a few fat tapers, and almost cloyingly warm from the steam of the bath. He heard a gasp and caught sight of Andressa sitting next to the fire on a small stool, a comb in her hand and an expression of surprise upon her face. She had a drying towel wrapped around her, a big one, so he couldn’t see anything other than her bare feet and hands, and her head.
“My lord?” Andressa said, fear in her voice. “What is it? Has something happened?”
He looked at her.Has something happened?Clearly, something had, but not to him. Looking at the woman, all of the shock and dismay he’d felt had turned into something else, and now all he could manage to feel was sorrow. Pure, black sorrow, as black as a moonless night.
Hurt…
Bleeding Christ, why was he feeling hurt?
Because he was feeling something forher.
The thought struck him like a hammer to an anvil. He hadn’t been sure what he was feeling for her until this moment but, now, he knew. He’d known the woman all of one day and somehow, someway, they had connected on a level he’d never known before. Perhaps it was her dire circumstances, or perhaps it was simply the way she looked at him– with utter, complete trust. She knew of his background, but she didn’t care. He’d said it best when he told her that he wanted her to think he was, indeed, noble and generous. He wanted her to think well of him.
But why did he feel hurt? Because as much as she assured him that she trusted him, she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him of her condition.
Perhaps there wasn’t complete trust, after all.
“Are you with child?” he asked bluntly.
He was a man with no tact, and that was evident when Andressa’s eyes widened at his question. Even in the dim light, he could see the color drain from her face.
“My lord,” she breathed. “Why would you ask such a…?”
He cut her off. “Answer me,” he said. “Do you carry a child?”
Her breathing grew quicker. He could see her nostrils flaring as she looked at him with such horror that it was spilling out all over the place. The comb fell from her hand and she suddenly stood up, clutching the drying cloth tightly around her.
“I do not have to answer you,” she whispered tightly, verging on tears. “Tell the woman to bring my clothing.”
“You are not going anywhere until you answer me.”
“Let me out of here or I shall scream!”
She was quickly growing panicked. But Maxton backed up, standing by the door as if to block it. He wasn’t going to let her leave.
He wanted the truth.
“Nay,” he said, his head wagging back and forth slowly. “You are not leaving. You are going to tell me the truth, Andressa. You said you trusted me. You came herebecauseyou trusted me. Did you lie to me?”
“Nay.” She shook her head quickly, unable to look at him. “I did not lie.”
“Then if you trust me, tell me the truth.”
The tears were right on the surface, but she fought them. In fact, she looked a little lost, seemingly pondering his question, perhaps even the situation in general. All intentions of leave the chamber seem to fade and, slowly, she lowered herself back to the stool, slumping over.
Defeated.
It was several long, painful moments before she dared speak.
