“Isobel, you will freeze to death!” He wrapped his cloak about her and held her until she stopped shivering.
He leaned back to look at her face, but the moonlight was not bright enough to read her expression. Surely she knew what he wanted to say? He took her hands and waited, hoping she might say something to encourage him.
Finally, he simply told her what he wanted: “As soon as we arrive, I want to ask the king’s permission for us to marry.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath.
“We must act quickly, before the king decides upon another husband for you.” He was determined not to let the king outflank him again.
“I thought you understood,” she said in a halting voice. “I do not carry your child.”
Her words were like a knife to his heart. “You see that as the only reason for us to marry?” Hurt rang in his voice, but he could not help it.
When she did not deny it, he swallowed his pride. “But you still need a husband; de Roche may have given you a child.” He kept his voice soft, though the thought of the villain’s hands on her wrenched his guts.
“You need not rescue me from that, as well.” Her voice was high, tense. “I am in no danger of having his child.”
Stephen sagged with relief. God be praised, the vile bastard had not taken her.
Still, the conversation was not going as he had hoped.
“I wish to have you as my wife,” he said, belatedly recalling Catherine’s advice, “because I love you.”
“If that be true,” she snapped, “I am sorry for it.”
His hopes were like dust in his mouth. Fighting to keep calm, he asked, “Do you not care for me at all?”
“Not care?” Isobel raked her hands through her tangled hair. “If only I did not care! If only I did not love you!”
All the tension and tiredness fell from him. He felt light, happy. All would be well. Isobel loved him!
But when he tried to pull her into his arms, she threw her hands up.
“ ’Tis because I love you I could not bear the betrayals,” she said, backing away.
“How can you think I will betray you?” he said, reaching out to her. “I love you.”
“Do you think I do not know about all your women?” she said, her voice rising. “I was there. I saw you every day in Caen.”
“I will honor my marriage vows,” he said, an edge to his voice. Did she not see how she insulted him?
“One day in Rouen, and you have courtesans giving you money, doing you favors!”
“I can explain about the women—”
“If it is not women, it will be something else.” When he tried to speak again, she covered her ears and shouted, “Have I not suffered enough?”
He grabbed one of her hands and pressed it to his heart. “For you, I will be the best man I can be. I want to make you proud of me, to be proud of myself. I will be a good husband, a good father. Isobel, please. Trust me.”
“I cannot, I cannot!” She jerked her hand away and ran from him into the darkness.
When he started after her, Geoffrey stepped out of nowhere to block his way.
“Let her go,” Geoffrey said with his hand pressed against Stephen’s chest.
“But I must tell her—”
“Not now,” Geoffrey said, holding his ground. “Not tonight. Can you not see how weary she is?”
