He came back to the bed then and, without a word, caught her behind the neck and drew her toward him until his mouth was grinding hard against hers. Her heart thudded with relief, but before she could get her arms even halfway around him to urge him back into the bed, he released her. His visage was a terrible mixture of desire and anger just then, anger, no doubt, because she was tempting him to ignore his precious Isabella. Obviously the temptation was not quite enough.
In that she was not entirely correct.
“Stay exactly as you are, wench,” he ordered harshly. “I will return ere the fire dies from those sapphire eyes, and we will see if you can fulfill the promise in them.”
He did not see the blush creep up her cheeks as he turned away to finish dressing with haste. She wasnotsupposed to be as easy to read as he was, but obviously this once she had hidden naught from him. It made her feel more vulnerable than she had at any other time with this man. It was one thing for her to admit to herself that she could want him,didwant him, at least right then. It was something else again to let him see it for himself without her lies to convince him of it. Lies? Mayhap earlier when she had been in control of herself, some of her actions and words had been lies, but they were not lies now.
He left the room without looking toward her again. Vaguely she noted that he had yanked on a bare minimum of clothing, none designed to impress a long-awaited bride. In fact, she thought smugly, he looked quite sloppy and harried, and with his emotions still on the angry side, the cruel lines of his face were well in place. He would be lucky if his lady bride did not take one look at him and burst into tears.
The thought made Rowena smile, but only for a moment. Then her anxieties returned with a vengeance. No matter how Isabella reacted to Warrick, she was still here to wed him. A bride’s fear was the last thing that could stop a wedding from taking place, so itwouldhappen, and that meant Rowena’s situationwouldchange, and no matter how she looked at it, she did not see her own lot improving with the change.
She might still inflame Warrick’s lust, but he would now have a wife to slake it on, leaving only his subtle cruelties and little revenges for Rowena. Without the intimate contact that his lust had brought so far, she would have no hope of altering his treatment of her. Verily, it would only get worse.
She had been ordered to stay in his bed, but she could not. She got up, dressed quickly, then paced the floor in her agitation, awaiting his return. But he did not come back as soon as his parting words had predicted. And whatever desires he had stirred to life in her were long since cooled.
She finally curled up on the hard bench of the window embrasure to do her fretting. ’Twas not long before she drew the definite conclusion that it would behoove her to reevaluate the possibility of escape—mayhap during the excitement of the wedding.
Warrick returned suddenly without warning, only he was not alone. The woman who followed on his heels was tall and richly gowned—and pale as new parchment. She was hauntingly lovely in her paleness, with her raven hair and dark green eyes. She was also terribly nervous about something, though there was a resigned, determined look to her.
Rowena noted this with wide eyes. She could not understand why Warrick had brought the lady here, when if Rowena had followed his orders she would still be lying naked in his bed. He could not have forgotten that, could he? Nay, he looked toward the bed first, and when he found it empty, his eyes searched until he located Rowena tucked deep in the embrasure.
She saw immediately that he wanted something of her. She sensed it the same way as before, when he had been chained in front of her and she had felt she could read his thoughts. But she could not grasp what it was that he wanted this time, until she heard what Isabella began saying.
The woman was afraid, aye, and with reason. What she was confessing to Warrick’s hard back was why she did not love him. And now Rowena knew exactly what he wanted of her. He wanted to show Isabella that what she was telling him mattered not at all to him, but just to say so would not suffice. Rowena was not sure if ’twas only his pride he wanted to protect, or if he also wanted to relieve the lady’s anxieties. Either way, he obviously had hoped he would find Rowena where he had left her, a position that would have spoken more clearly than words.
She was not sure why she wanted to aid him or even how she could, but she stood up to reveal herself to the other woman. That, unfortunately, was not enough. Isabella was too deeply into her explanation to care that a servant was present. She was trying earnestly to make Warrick listen to her, while he would not even turn around to face her, but continued to watch Rowena instead.
Rowena approached them both, but she stopped before Warrick, telling him without words that he could make use of her presence however he chose. What he chose to do was face Isabella now with Rowena behind his back, but he put his hand behind him until she took it, then drew her closer until she actually leaned against his back. What this tableau would appear like to Isabella, if she deigned to notice, was Rowena shyly hiding behind Warrick, with him trying to reassure her without actually drawing attention to her.
Mayhap it was a bit too subtle for Isabella, for she had not even paused in her lengthy explanation of how she and someone named Miles Fergant had loved each other since childhood. Rowena could have been invisible for all the notice she was getting. Better to have just brazenly returned to Warrick’s bed, mayhap even stripped off her clothes again. She smiled to herself at the absurd thought, then almost laughed aloud when it occurred to her that Isabella still might not have noticed that—but Warrick certainly would have.
The moment of whimsy put her in a mischievous state of mind that she had not experienced in a goodly number of years. She considered wrapping her arms around Warrick’s waist from behind. Nay, too bold. She slipped her hand out of his instead, saw his back tense, but he relaxed when he felt her hands settle on his sides, just above his hips. Her fingers were not actually noticeable, but she was no longer even thinking about giving Isabella something to see. ’Twas Warrick she felt like teasing now, and tease him she did, running her hands slowly up his sides, feeling him stiffen, then try to stop her movement by pressing his arms tight to his sides. She merely worked her fingers loose and moved them down to his hips.
She almost burst out laughing when she heard him suck in his breath. But when she brought one hand back to pat his buttock, he startled her by swinging around and pinning her with a look that for once she could not read. She gave him an owl-eyed look of innocence in return, which brought the tiniest curve to his lips before he recalled himself and glared a warning at her. She was supposed to be aiding him in dealing with Isabella’s confession, not distracting him from listening to it.
And then they both noticed the sudden silence behind them, just before Isabella asked impatiently, “Warrick, whoisthat woman?”
He turned back around. Rowena stuck just her head around his wide shoulder.
“She is my prisoner,” was all Warrick offered in answer.
“Lady Rowena of Kirkburough,” Rowena added at about the same instant, well aware that he would not have, and aware too that he would not like it that she did.
She was right. The rejoinder he came back with made her flinch.
“Ladybeforeshe became my prisoner. Now she is the wench who will bear my next bastard.”
Rowena sank her teeth into the back of his arm—hard—to thank him for that unnecessary disclosure. He moved not a muscle to acknowledge he had even felt it.
“I see,” Isabella said coolly.
“Do you finally? Good. Mayhap now you will explain why you found it necessary to follow me in here with this tale of childhood lovers when I expressly told you in the hall that I was not interested in hearing it. Think you that your love is a requisite of our marriage?”
The brutal coldness in his tone made Isabella pale even more. Rowena, behind him again, winced and felt a moment’s pity for the other woman.
“I—I had hoped to make you understand,” Isabella said miserably.
“Indeed do I understand. You love me not. I care not. Love does not happen to be what I require of you.”
