Kitabı oku: «Reclaimed By Her Rebel Knight», sayfa 3
Chapter Four
‘Don’t!’ Constance waited until the very last moment, calling out as he lifted the door handle.
‘Why?’ Her husband looked back over his shoulder, his expression an unmistakable and somewhat intimidating blend of impatience and anger. ‘Was there something else you wished to accuse me of?’
She shook her head, wishing that she could go back and start the interview all over again. As it turned out, she’d guessed his identity correctly the previous evening, but meeting him in person had proven even more difficult than she’d anticipated. It had been hard enough confronting the man who’d usurped her inheritance and banished her from the home that she’d loved, but the sight of the daybed, drawn out from its usual place in the corner and set in the very centre of the room, had made things even worse. With her aunt’s advice still ringing in her ears she’d felt like a condemned prisoner on her way to the gallows.
His appearance hadn’t helped. He’d looked just as stern as before, albeit less dishevelled in a pristine white tunic, dark breeches and black leather boots instead of the bizarrely pointed shoes the men in her uncle’s household had recently taken to wearing. Clean-shaven, however, his features had looked even sharper and more dangerous, while smiling still seemed beyond him, except for one small attempt which might easily have been mistaken for a grimace. The only softness about him was in his eyes, which seemed to belong in a different face altogether. They were a deep, almost black shade of brown, wide and soulful and fringed with lashes several shades darker than the rest of his blond-and-copper-streaked mane. There was something almost feminine about them, unlike the rest of him, which was undeniably, unequivocally, masculine.
She hadn’t been able to read his expression at first, but the way that he’d scowled as she’d crossed the room had made his feelings abundantly clear. Obviously he’d been disappointed with his first sight of her, no doubt comparing her unfavourably to her cousins, though he might have tried to hide his reaction a little. Almost the very first words out of his mouth had been about her appearance and then all he’d said was that she’d grown! As if she wasn’t already keenly aware of the fact!
She’d entered the chamber determined to hide her true feelings and be ‘modest and obedient’ like her aunt had told her and then done the exact opposite, answering his questions with retorts and being generally belligerent instead. But how else could she have responded to his behaviour? ‘Modest and obedient’ were all very well, but surely that didn’t mean she had to tolerate disparaging looks and comments? Yes, she might have grown since their last meeting, but she could hardly do anything about that! And, yes, she might have been young when they’d married, but she certainly hadn’t been a child! She’d been more than capable of managing Lacelby! It was what she’d been trained for! Which her husband would have known if he’d actually bothered to speak to her on their wedding day. If he hadn’t just stolen her inheritance and left!
It had been too much to bear. All of the resentment and bitterness of the past five years had seemed to catch up with her at once, rendering ‘modest and obedient’ impossible. So she’d been rude and over-sensitive, misinterpreting his words and then insulting him in the worst way possible, but she’d never been so mortified in her life, first at what she’d thought he meant by her charms and then at his mirthful response.
The inevitable result was that he was leaving and she could hardly blame him. She didn’t particularly want to stop him either, but after what her aunt had said about making her and her uncle proud, Constance didn’t want to let them down either. If her husband left so soon after their reunion then the news would be around the manor in less than an hour and the banquet would be even more of an ordeal. Everyone would be talking about it and watching them, speculating as to why he’d left so soon and what had—or more precisely had not—happened between them and why. It would be hard to regard their marriage as anything other than a dismal failure and she’d promised to do her best...
‘I mean, please don’t go.’ She could hear the stiffness in her own voice. ‘I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but...’ she sought for an excuse that didn’t involve resentment or abject rage ‘...I’m nervous.’
‘Nervous?’ He drew his already scowling brows even closer together, regarding her suspiciously for a few seconds before dropping his hand from the door handle. ‘Very well, then. Shall we sit?’
To her relief, he gestured towards the window seat instead of the daybed, almost as if he were making a point of avoiding it, and she perched on the far edge, resisting the urge to start chewing her fingernails again as he sat down beside her.
‘I should not have called you a liar.’ She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for some words of reproof, but to her surprise he sighed and spread his own hands out in a placatory gesture instead.
‘I should not have laughed.’
‘It was a misunderstanding.’
‘It was an attempt at a compliment, believe it or not. Perhaps I need more practice in making them.’
‘No, it was my fault. I did not...that is, I’m not accustomed...’ She faltered mid-sentence, wondering how to explain that she was used to a different type of comment, from men anyway. ‘I mean, both of my cousins are so beautiful...’
‘I suppose so...’ his brow creased as if he didn’t understand quite what she was trying to say ‘...in their own way. As are you, Lady Constance.’
‘Me?’ She was too astonished to even try to conceal it. Beautiful wasn’t one of the words men generally called her. They were usually far more descriptive... ‘But you scowled when I came in. I thought you were disappointed.’
He winced. ‘It’s a failing of mine, I’m afraid. I often don’t know I’m doing it, but it was not my intention to scowl. Believe me, I was not disappointed.’
‘Oh.’ She stared at him speechlessly for a few moments. Hard though it was to believe, he looked and sounded sincere—and he’d said she was beautiful...
‘In any case...’ she cleared her throat, trying to distract attention away from the pink blush she could feel spreading up her neck and over her cheeks ‘I apologise for what I said. I will try to be less...uncomfortable.’
‘As will I.’
His gaze was so direct that she turned her face towards the window, willing her cheeks to cool down as they lapsed into a pensive silence. It had started to rain again and the steady patter of water on the roof and against the windowpane seemed to echo all around them.
‘Your uncle is a good man.’ Her husband—it was still hard to think of him as Matthew—spoke again after a few minutes.
‘He’s been very kind.’
‘Your mother was his sister, I understand?’
‘Yes. They were always very close.’
‘What about your cousins? Are you close to them, too?’
‘Oh, yes—’ she smiled with enthusiasm ‘—they’re more like brothers and sisters to me. I love them all dearly, especially Isabella.’
‘I’m glad.’ He gave a satisfied-looking nod. ‘I hoped that would be the case.’
‘You hoped...?’ The words drew her up short. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just that I thought you’d prefer living here to Wintercott.’
She stared at him in confusion. Wintercott was his family’s main residence, but what did that have to do with anything? ‘I don’t understand.’
He shrugged as if the subject wasn’t particularly important. ‘There was some discussion about where you should live after our marriage. My father suggested his household, but I thought you’d prefer being with your own family. I didn’t want you to be lonely, so I asked your uncle to take you home with him when I left England.’ He nodded again. ‘I’m glad that I made the right decision.’
‘Oh...’ She pursed her lips, resisting the urge to start another argument by asking why she’d had to leave Lacelby at all. It was true that given the choice between his father and her uncle then she would have chosen the latter, but neither had been what she’d really wanted. Even so, the fact that he’d put some thought into where she might be happiest made her resentment diminish a little.
‘You wanted to remain at Lacelby?’ His expression shifted suddenly, turning to one of comprehension. ‘That’s what you meant about being able to manage an estate at fourteen?’
She hesitated. No doubt her aunt would tell her to deny it and say that whatever decision he’d made had been the right one, but he looked as if he genuinely wanted to know the truth. Besides, she wasn’t that good a liar.
‘It was my home. When I agreed to marry you, it never occurred to me that I’d have to leave.’
‘Ah...’ he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees ‘...so that’s why you’re angry with me?’
‘I’m not...’ She bit her tongue on the lie. ‘Yes. You never asked me what I wanted. I wasn’t a child and I could have stayed and managed Lacelby on my own. My mother raised me to do it.’
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes!’ She narrowed her eyes at his sceptically raised eyebrow. ‘She ran the whole estate for months on end whenever my father was away on campaign. He called her his rock. She didn’t need any help and she taught me everything she knew.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t want to be sent away.’
‘I see. Were you homesick, then?’
‘Of course! I’d just lost my parents...’ She faltered, trying to force away the hollow feeling in her chest, the hole that threatened to open up and swallow her whenever she thought of her mother and father.
‘It must have been hard for you losing them both so suddenly.’ His voice was softer and more sympathetic than she would have imagined it could be. ‘It was some kind of illness, I understand?’
‘A fever, yes.’ She could feel his gaze on her face. ‘It was during one of my father’s visits home and swept through Lacelby like a fire. So many of us had it. I survived, but my parents died within a few days of each other.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I still miss them. Even after five years, some wounds do not heal.’
‘True.’ There was a hint of some powerful emotion in his voice. ‘And leaving Lacelby made it worse?’
‘I thought that my heart would break,’ she answered truthfully. ‘I’d had a happy childhood and my home was all that I had left of my parents. The day I rode away, I thought I’d never be happy again. I’ve been homesick ever since.’
‘But surely you’ve visited?’ He sounded faintly surprised.
‘No. My uncle thought that your father might not appreciate the intrusion.’
‘Did my father say so?’
She jumped, alarmed by the sudden note of anger in his voice. ‘Perhaps... I don’t know.’
He leaned back in the window seat, the lines between his brows deepening. ‘Forgive me, I ought to have considered how hard leaving your home might be for you. To be honest, I assumed you were grieving and that your family were best placed to take care of you, but perhaps I ought to have allowed you more time. That said, I stand by my decision. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving you at Lacelby alone. I did—do—believe that fourteen is too young to manage an estate.’
‘You still could have asked.’
The retort was out before she could stop herself, but to her surprise, he only nodded.
‘You’re right, I should have. It was a difficult time in my life, too, but that’s no excuse. My only defence is that I thought I was doing the right thing. If it made you unhappy, then I’m truly sorry.’
‘Thank you.’
She leaned back, too, grateful for that concession at least. Much as she still resented his presumption that she’d been too young to manage Lacelby on her own, she had to admit she would have been lonely growing up without her cousins. He was right about that and he had apologised, and at least they weren’t butting heads any more. In fact, now she thought of it, aside from one brief outburst about his father, he’d barely scowled since they’d sat down! She tilted her head to one side, regarding him with new eyes. Somehow they’d gone from arguing to understanding in a few minutes. His whole manner seemed to have mellowed, including his voice which now sounded as deep and smooth as gold velvet. Somehow it took the edge off his sternness and made her feel inexplicably light-headed.
‘Perhaps I ought to have asked more questions about our marriage, too.’ He met her gaze again, his own faintly troubled. ‘I was told that you’d given your consent willingly.’
‘I did.’ It was her turn to frown. ‘That is, I knew my position was a precarious one and it wasn’t safe for me to remain unmarried. If I’d been born a boy or had a brother, then it would have been different, but as it was...’ She shrugged. ‘It was made clear to me that an heiress cannot remain unwed.’
‘You did not really wish to marry, then?’
‘No.’ She bit her lip, wondering if she were taking honesty a little too far, though fortunately he didn’t look angry. ‘I would have preferred to wait, to choose a husband for myself when I came of age, but I knew there was no choice.’
‘No choice...’ He repeated the words softly. ‘In that case, I’ll offer you one now, a way out if you still want it.’
‘A way out?’ Her body seemed to jerk upright of its own volition. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Since our marriage hasn’t yet been consummated, it could still be annulled.’
She was vaguely aware of her mouth dropping open. An annulment? It was almost impossible to believe that he was offering her freedom so easily and yet he appeared to be serious. ‘You would agree to that?’
‘If it’s what you truly wanted then, yes, I would. Since I ought to have consulted you five years ago, the least I can do is consult you now.’
‘But what about my fortune? My land?’
His eyes crinkled at the corners as one side of his mouth curved upwards. ‘Your opinion of me really is low. You think me a liar and a fortune hunter?’
‘No!’ She shook her head quickly. ‘I did not mean...’
‘It’s all right. I can see why you might think so. Our marriage was a practical arrangement, after all. But the truth is...’ he made a faintly apologetic gesture ‘...I have bigger concerns.’
‘Oh.’ She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to such a statement. She seemed to feel equal parts grateful, surprised and hypocritically offended. ‘So if I wanted an annulment...’
‘You would only need ask. I would not oppose it.’
He lifted a hand to stifle a yawn and she felt a fresh stab of offence. Bigger concerns was bad enough, but now she was apparently boring him, too! Then again... She leaned closer, belatedly noticing the dark shadows around his eyes... He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. Neither had she, though she doubted it was for the same reasons. It was hard to imagine him feeling anxious about seeing her. Especially when he had bigger concerns...
‘Forgive me.’ He ran a hand over his jaw. ‘It’s been a long month.’
‘Then you should rest. We have another hour or so before the banquet.’ She gestured towards the daybed. ‘Sleep. It might be a long evening otherwise.’
‘True—’ he threw a longing look towards the cushions ‘—but I would not wish to insult you, my lady.’
‘You would not be.’ No more than he just had anyway... ‘I’d appreciate some time to think over your offer.’
‘Then I’d be happy to oblige.’ He made his way across the room, collapsing enthusiastically on top of the coverlet and folding his arms behind his head with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘That’s better. Although if you want an annulment then the less time we spend alone together, the better.’
‘I know, but if either of us leaves now...’
‘We’ll both be besieged with questions. Good point.’ He sighed again and closed his eyes. ‘In that case, wake me up when you come to a decision.’
‘I will.’ She took one last look at him and then turned her face back to the window. ‘Matthew.’
Chapter Five
Constance twisted her body sideways, curling both legs up beneath her on the window seat so that she could sit comfortably and watch the rain pouring into the rapidly swelling puddles below. It was coming down in earnest now, but the sound was soothing, almost lulling her to sleep, too. The very worst of the storm was just missing them, passing by to the south by the look of it. Though if the last few weeks were anything to go by, it wouldn’t be long before the next. The ground had been waterlogged now for almost a month, though fortunately the harvest had all been collected before the weather had turned. At this rate, however, the winter promised to be a long one.
None of which was the subject she ought to be thinking about. She ought to be thinking about her husband’s offer of an annulment and whether or not she could accept it. A few days ago she would have said yes in a heartbeat, but a few days ago she would never have considered it a possibility. Now that it was, the decision wasn’t so easy, mainly because the kind of man who would make such an offer was exactly the kind of man she would want to stay married to. The irony would have amused her if she hadn’t spent the past five years resenting him!
She glanced over her shoulder at the daybed. Judging by the sound of his breathing, Matthew was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling so steadily that she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She’d spent the last few nights tossing and turning with worry and yet he’d gone to sleep simply by closing his eyes! Probably because he wasn’t, as it turned out, particularly bothered about whether she remained married to him or not. He had bigger concerns. Which at least proved that he wasn’t the fortune-hunting opportunist she’d assumed, though his attitude towards her inheritance was somewhat perplexing, too. He’d seemed almost ambivalent about Lacelby and the land that came with it, but if that were the case then why had he married her in the first place? He’d said something about it taking place during a difficult time in his life, but surely he’d wanted her inheritance five years ago? In which case, why offer to give it up now?
On the other hand, what did it matter? Why wasn’t as important as what she ought to do next, whether to accept the freedom he offered or to stay married. Amazingly, he’d left the decision up to her, although if she chose an annulment then she doubted the King would let her remain unmarried for long, presuming he didn’t take her inheritance for himself, that was. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up in the same position she’d been in five years ago, compelled to be wed, although at least this time she might be allowed to make her own choice.
Now that she thought about it, however, the prospect seemed more than a little daunting. It wasn’t as if she had much experience of men—certainly not much good experience. How could she possibly know who would or would not make a good husband? At least with Matthew Wintour she knew what she was getting, or had a rough idea anyway.
Besides, more than anything she wanted to go home and an annulment would only complicate matters and delay her return even further. Matthew Wintour might be the man who’d sent her away, but he was also her way back. And once he’d stopped scowling she’d found him surprisingly easy to talk to. She’d never told anyone how desperately homesick she’d been when she’d first left Lacelby, not even her uncle or Isabella for fear of upsetting them. It had been a relief to finally admit it out loud, as if the words had been on the very tip of her tongue for years. Somehow she’d felt able to tell him, a complete stranger who was still, somehow, her husband. Maybe because he seemed like the kind of man who appreciated the truth. Maybe because he wasn’t the arrogant tyrant she’d first assumed him to be. It was still hard to imagine feeling for him the way Isabella felt for Tristan, but he was more observant, more considerate, more sensitive even than she’d expected, albeit in a stern, forbidding kind of way. Not to mention far more good looking than she’d given him credit for the previous evening. And then there was his voice... Not that she was going to forgive just because of that!
Most important of all, however, was that the way he looked at her didn’t frighten her. As far as she could tell, he’d kept his gaze above her neck the whole time they’d been talking. Not many men did that. Not unless...she tensed as a new, less appealing thought occurred to her...unless that was why he’d offered an annulment, because he really wanted one himself? He’d called her beautiful and said he wasn’t disappointed, but what if he was lying? What if he’d taken one look at her and decided that he wanted a way out of their marriage even if it meant giving up her inheritance, too? She didn’t know which was worse, a husband who stared as if she were a piece of meat or one who didn’t want to look at her at all...
The dull thrumming of the rain against the window seemed to get louder and louder as she mulled over each idea in her head, only the gradual darkening of the sky outside alerting her to the fact that time was passing and she really ought to wake him. The banquet would be starting soon and they were the guests of honour. If she chose to stay married to him, that was.
Reluctantly, she stood up and walked across to the daybed. Despite the sound of raised voices and tables being set out below, Matthew was still fast asleep, flat on his back with one arm across his chest and the other stretched above his head. She reached a hand out to touch his shoulder and then stopped with her fingers a hair’s breadth away. She was used to sharing a bed with Isabella, but being so close to a sleeping man was different. He was almost twice the size of her cousin for a start and the warmth emanating from his large body felt strangely intimate and exciting, making her heart race and her body shiver in a way she’d never experienced before. She leaned closer, bringing her face almost to a level with his as she breathed in his musky scent, a combination of leather, sandalwood and something else...something indefinable and male. Up close she could see flecks of stubble across his chin, pale golden hairs that made her want to reach out and...
A light tap on the door made her whirl around guiltily.
‘It’s almost time.’ Her aunt’s voice outside sounded distinctly smug, Constance noticed, opening her mouth to answer and then almost yelping with surprise as Matthew did it for her.
‘We’ll be down shortly!’
He was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed by the time she turned round again, looking as wide awake and alert as if he’d never been asleep at all, and she felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment. What must he have thought to wake up and find her standing so close beside him? Not that she’d been doing anything wrong. Just looking...
‘How long was I asleep?’ He arched an eyebrow as the sound of her aunt’s footsteps receded.
‘Just about an hour, maybe. I lost track of time.’
‘Thinking?’ The eyebrow quirked higher. ‘Then have you come to a decision, Lady Constance?’
‘Just Constance.’ She caught her breath, feeling an unexpected thrill at the sound of her name on his lips. The way his voice lingered on the last syllable made her feel as if they were actually touching. ‘And, yes, I have.’ She swallowed, watching intently for his reaction. ‘I’ve decided that if you’re content to remain married, then so am I.’
He hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable before he gave a firm nod and then pushed himself to his feet. ‘Probably for the best. We might have trouble explaining what we’ve been doing all this time otherwise.’
‘Do you feel well rested?’
‘Extremely.’ He stretched his arms above his head. His hair was still ruffled from sleep, but his features seemed more relaxed than before. ‘People will think you have rejuvenating powers.’
‘That I have...?’ She wrinkled her brow in confusion and then stifled a gasp. Nothing her aunt had told her about the marriage bed had sounded particularly rejuvenating, but she didn’t even want to think about that and she had the distinct impression that he was teasing her. A fresh wave of colour swept over her already red cheeks. At least he didn’t seem overly disappointed that she hadn’t taken up his offer of an annulment. Although she couldn’t exactly tell what his reaction was either...
‘Shall we go and let them gawp at us?’ He gave an almost-smile.
‘Yes.’ She smoothed down her skirts as if doing so might help her gather her scattered thoughts. ‘Only what should I tell my aunt? She expected...’ She jerked her head towards the bed, not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence. Judging by the slight quirk of his lips, however, she didn’t have to.
‘Tell her the truth, that we had a lot to talk about and you needed time to consider.’
‘But she’ll think I ignored her advice.’
‘What advice?’
She bit her lip, instantly regretting the mention of it. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’
The eyebrow lifted again. ‘If I recall correctly, married people aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other.’
‘That probably applies to the ones who’ve known each other for more than an afternoon.’ She gave him an arch look back. ‘Oh, very well. She told me to be modest and obedient and to agree with everything you said.’
‘Really?’ His eyes sparked with amusement. ‘Do you generally make a habit of arguing, then?’
‘Only about disagreeable subjects.’
‘Such as my behaviour over the past five years?’ His expression turned serious again. ‘Good point, but surely your aunt will be content as long as we appear at the banquet side by side?’
‘I suppose so, only I don’t want to let her down.’ She lifted a hand to her mouth and started to chew on her thumbnail. ‘She said it was best to get it over with.’
‘It?’ He looked from her to the bed and then back again. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I’m afraid we’ve run out of time.’
‘What? No!’ She almost had a coughing fit, spluttering over her protest. ‘I wasn’t suggesting anything!’
‘You mean that it would make your aunt happy to think that we’ve got it over with?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very well, then.’ He drew a knife from his belt and started to roll up his tunic sleeve.
‘What are you doing?’ Constance started forward in protest as he drew the blade lightly across the inside of his forearm.
‘Giving your aunt what she wants. A few drops should be sufficient, I think.’ He smeared the blood across the coverlet and then stood back to admire his handiwork. ‘There. Now there’s no going back. As far as anyone else is concerned, we’re husband and wife.’
‘Yes.’ She found herself staring at the bed, mesmerised by the sight of his blood. As gestures went, it was surprisingly and strangely touching. Their whole situation felt so intimate and yet, so far, they hadn’t even touched.
‘Constance?’ The sound of her name brought her eyes back to his. ‘We can work out the rest in our own time, but there’s no need to be nervous. I won’t rush you.’
‘I know.’ Oddly enough, she did.
‘I’ve been a neglectful husband, have I not?’
She raised her shoulders slightly, at a loss for what to say. Somehow it seemed hypocritical to accuse him of neglect when she hadn’t even wanted him to exist.
‘You don’t need to answer, only believe me when I say that I’ll endeavour to do better in the future. As for the past, I hope that you can forgive me in time.’
She held on to his gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes sending a wave of heat through her body, as if all her nerve endings were tingling in unison. His neglect she could forgive. As for the rest, well, he’d promised to make up for it now and he seemed to be genuine. Maybe marriage to him wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe they could even be friends...
‘Will you take me home? Back to Lacelby?’
‘Yes.’ He offered his hand, the way he had before she’d accused him of lying. ‘As soon as I can, I promise.’
The sound of a citole floated up from below, accompanied by sounds of laughter as she placed her fingers gently in his, her breath hitching at the contact of skin against skin.
‘Very well, then, I forgive you.’
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