“Your pretense of wanting me?”
She would have liked to say, “Aye, that, too,” but she would not lie to hurt him as he was hurting her. “Nay, my silence. But you need not worry that my unseemly behavior of the past will bother you again. Whatever I felt for you is no longer there.”
“Damn you, Rowena, you willnotmake me regret my actions! ’Tis you—”
“Spare me any more recriminations. There is naught else I want to hear from you, except—tell me what you did with my mother.”
He was silent for so long, she did not think he would answer her. He was cruel enough to leave her wondering—nay, not that cruel.
“I gave her into the care of my friend, Sheldon de Vere. She assisted me in taking Ambray Castle. For that she has my gratitude. She also assisted in opening your remaining properties, whichyoushould have done. D’Ambray’s men were ousted with little bloodshed. He no longer has control of aught that is yours.”
She did not thank him for that.Henow had control of all that was hers, as well as herself, and he was not like to ever relinquish it.
Quietly, without looking back at him, with despair about to crush her, she said, “That day you came triumphant to Kirkburough, I had intended to offer you my wardship—despite all the horrible tales I had heard of you—if you had proved to be just a little less despicable than Gilbert…but you did not. You sent me straightaway to your dungeon. Small wonder I never got around to telling you who I was.”
He walked out ere her tears betrayed her.
Chapter 46
The resumption of Rowena’s previous duties did not lift the gloom that had come to Fulkhurst. Mary Blouet was not happy to have charge of her again. Melisant cried frequently. Mildred grumbled constantly. Emma gave her father such baleful looks that he ought to have reprimanded her for them, but he did not. And the hall was so subdued at meals that even a cough was embarrassing.
Rowena refused to speak of it to anyone, including Mildred, whom she was annoyed with for instigating a plan that had so horribly backfired on her. Warrick had not been caught by it,shehad, and so she listened to Mildred now with a closed ear and few, if any, comments.
The weeks that followed were much like her first days serving Warrick, with a few notable exceptions. She was not called to assist him at his bath now, or in his bed. Nor did she receive any of those humorless smiles she had hated. He barely looked at her at all, but when he did, his face was devoid of expression. She was no more than what he had first intended her to be, a servant beneath his notice. Perversely, she stopped wearing her own clothes, though he had not insisted on that. But if she would be no more than a servant, then she would look like no more than a servant.
She still instructed Emma when she had time to spare. That she enjoyed doing, and so tried to keep her own feelings from the girl; these waxed between depression and bitterness, then just bitterness. She took even more pains, however, to keep her emotions from Warrick’s notice.
But then the day came that Emma was taken from her, sent to Sheldon’s home for her wedding to young Richard. Rowena was not allowed to witness it. She had sewn the gown Emma would be married in, but she was not there to see her wear it.
That was the day she stopped keeping her resentment to herself.
Warrick noticed the change immediately. Twice in one day food was dumped in his lap. Both times could not be accidents. He could no longer find clothes in his coffer that were not in need of some kind of repair. By week’s end his chamber was filthy. The linens on his bed had not been rinsed properly, which caused him a rash. His wine became more and more sour, his ale more and more warm, the food she now slammed down in front of him more and more salty.
He said naught to her about any of it. He did not trust himself to speak to her at all without dragging her off to his bed. He wanted her so badly it took his every effort not to touch her. But he would not. She had deceived him. She had plotted with his enemy against him. Her laughter, her teasing, her desire for him—all lies. Yet he could not hate her. He would never forgive her, never touch her again, never let her know how vulnerable she had made him, but he could not hate her—or stop wanting her.
He knew not why he stayed there to torture himself. He ought to go and hunt for d’Ambray himself, instead of sending others to do it. Or visit Sheldon and his new wife. Had he told someone to mention the marriage to Rowena? He must not have, for surely that would have put a halt, at least temporarily, to whatever maggoty bit of resentment she was indulging. As if she had reason to be resentful.Hedid, but she did not.
Though he should leave, he did not. So he was there two days later when Sheldon showed up with his new wife.
Warrick met them on the stairs to the keep. Sheldon merely grinned in greeting and told him to “brace himself,” before he went on into the hall, leaving Warrick alone with the Lady Anne. Her tight-lipped expression gave him warning of what was to come. It came without preamble.
“I am here to see my daughter, and do not think to deny me, sirrah. Your own daughter has just confided to me the atrocious treatment Rowena has had at your hands. I am not sure I can forgive Sheldon for not telling me himself. Had I known before, Iwouldhave set a trap for you at Ambray, instead of handing the castle over to you. That any man could be so—”
“Enough, lady! You know naught of what has transpired between Rowena and me. You know naught of what your daughter has done tome. She is my prisoner and so she will stay. You may see her, but you may not take her from here. Is that clear to you?”
Anne opened her mouth to argue that point, then closed it. She glared at him for a moment more before she nodded curtly and started to pass him. But she took no more than two steps ere she whirled back around.
“I willnotbe intimidated by you, Lord Warrick. My husband assures me that you have good reason to be the way you are. I doubt that, but he has also told me that you might think Rowena was a willing pawn in Gilbert’s schemes.”
“I do not think it, I know it,” Warrick replied coldly.
“Then you are misinformed,” Anne persisted, but added in a more reasonable tone, “My daughter loves me. Think you she would aid Gilbert in any way after she saw him viciously beat me to get her cooperation?”
Warrick stiffened. “Cooperation for what?”
“Gilbert had made contract with Godwine Lyons for her. She refused. I also disdained the match. He was an old lecher with scandal attached to his name, in no wise her equal. But Lyons had promised Gilbert his army, which he needed to fight you. So he brought her to Ambray and had her restrained to watch while he beat me.”
“Why you? Why not her?”
