Forbidden Night With The Warrior. Michelle WillinghamЧитать онлайн книгу.
who had met with him in stolen moments, promising to love him for the rest of her life, had suddenly grown cold. She had turned from him, leaving him to spend years with only a sword for company.
And now Alan wanted him to sire a child upon her? It was the strangest turn of fate he’d ever imagined.
He had wanted to ignore this summons to Pevensham, truthfully. He had no place upon an estate such as this. Although he was of noble birth, he would never be anything more than a warrior. There were no estates he could inherit, no lands for him to rule. He was expected to marry and live with his brother Rhys.
Or die in battle, if his father had his way.
Over the years, his stepmother Analise had convinced Edward de Laurent that Warrick was simple-minded and incapable of leadership. Absently, he rubbed at the scar upon his wrist. His gut tightened at the memory of the woman, and he pushed back the darkness. She was dead now, and his father had taken a third wife.
But the fact remained—Edward de Laurent had believed Analise’s claims, hardly giving any attention to Warrick. The need to prove his father wrong had drawn him into the king’s service and into countless battles.
Now, he had been given an opportunity to control lands that spanned even greater a distance than his family’s. No longer would Edward de Laurent look upon him as the spare son who would live at home, possessing no estates of his own. Warrick could command of his own castle, and be equal in status to his brother Rhys.
All he had to do was murder an innocent man...or sleep with the man’s wife, he thought wryly. Neither was an honourable choice.
And yet, Alan was right. His brother Owen fully intended to take possession of Pevensham, and it was possible that he could harm Rosamund. Certainly, the man wouldn’t hesitate to kill an unborn child if it threatened his inheritance.
Warrick reached for his sword, and he clenched the familiar hilt. If he agreed to sire a son with Rosamund, there were endless risks. She might not conceive, and all would be for naught. Or if she did, others might question the child’s legitimacy. Even if it came to pass as Alan desired, it meant that the child would grow up believing that another man was his father.
There were no clear answers, yet he stood at Alan’s bedside. It was best to speak the truth. ‘I have spoken to Rosamund, and she does not wish to dishonour her marriage vows.’
‘She will do it if I command it of her.’
Warrick had no intention of forcing any woman. Even the woman he had once desired beyond all else. ‘I will not take Rosamund against her wishes.’
‘She understands what is necessary to protect Pevensham. This is her home, and she has no desire for Owen to inherit.’ Despite his physical weakness, Alan possessed a will of iron. ‘Rosamund is a woman who is loyal and virtuous. She does not understand the greater need. I want her to be protected and cherished when I am gone. You could do this, and you would receive wealth and lands in return. Any man would welcome this opportunity.’
‘Why me?’ he shot back. ‘You could choose any unmarried man in England, and all would be willing to do this.’
‘Because I want a man who will take care of her after I am gone. Someone who will put her needs first. If all I wanted was someone to get a child on her that would be naught of concern.’ Alan’s face grew tight with his own frustration. ‘I care about Rosamund, and I will not let my brother hurt her.’
‘Do you not trust your guards to keep her safe?’
‘My men cannot protect her when she is alone in her chamber at night. Owen will find a way, and I will be unable to stop him after I am dead.’
Warrick said nothing. The man’s behaviour seemed impossibly selfless. He didn’t understand how anyone could make such an offer—especially wedded to a woman like Rosamund. If he were in Alan’s place, he would die before giving her to someone else. He would hire a hundred men to defend her, if needed.
‘There are a dozen ways you could protect her,’ he said. ‘If you truly loved her, you would never force her to lie with someone else to conceive a child.’
At that accusation, Alan’s face hardened. ‘I love her enough to give her what she truly wants, above all else.’ He sat up straighter in his bed. ‘She might have spoken her vows, but her heart was never mine. She obeyed her father and married me.’ Alan’s tone turned dark. ‘I wanted her—I won’t lie. But it broke her heart to wed me. She is a dutiful, faithful wife, but she does not love me the way I love her. I thought time would change it, but now my life grows short.
‘And because of the sacrifices she made, I want to give her back what she desires most of all. The life she wanted to have with you.’
There was no doubting the sincerity of Alan’s words, but Warrick didn’t believe that Rosamund would agree to marry him now. She had made her intentions clear enough when she had obeyed her father’s command. And though Warrick had come to the wedding, she had never looked at him once.
‘She made her choice years ago.’ He understood that Pevensham wanted him to protect Rosamund after he was gone, but Warrick didn’t delude himself into thinking Rosamund still held feelings towards him.
‘I may be dying, but I am not blind,’ Alan countered. ‘I saw her misery on our wedding day, and I saw her reaction when you answered my summons. Once she recognises the necessity, I believe she will do what is necessary to protect our lands.’
But Warrick disagreed. ‘Rosamund has no intention of dishonouring her marriage vows, no matter what she told you.’
‘There must be a child,’ Alan insisted. His frustrated anger was evident in the planes of his face, and his hands clenched. ‘It is the only way to ensure that Pevensham does not fall into Owen’s hands. And once she conceives, I want you to take her to my estate in Ireland. My steward will grant you both sanctuary until she gives birth.’
But Warrick was uncertain it was the best course of action. If he removed Rosamund from her home, it would only invite Owen de Courcy to pursue her.
Alan met Warrick’s gaze evenly. ‘Will you do this for us? For her?’
He had not yet decided whether to accept Alan’s proposition. Not only was Rosamund adamant that she would not break her vows, there was no telling whether the plan would work, even if she did change her mind. At the moment, she believed that a simple lie would pacify her husband, and she had no intention of attempting to conceive.
‘I will think about it,’ he said at last. It was the best answer he could give. If Rosamund wanted his help, he would not deny her. But until then, he would bide his time.
The door to Alan’s bedchamber swung open, and Rosamund entered the room. She had gathered her composure and took a seat upon a low stool beside the hearth. Then she picked up her sewing and began to embroider the linen. Nothing in her demeanour suggested the rebellion within her heart.
When Warrick studied her more closely, Rosamund’s green eyes revealed a stubborn nature. She had unyielding loyalty and was not about to obey this command meekly.
Alan was asking him to lay siege to this woman’s body and heart, with a child and a castle as the prizes to be won. But it was far more complicated than that.
‘Rosamund, Warrick tells me that you have changed your mind about our agreement.’ His expression held annoyance. ‘I thought you understood the necessity of this arrangement.’
At that, she set aside her sewing and stood from her stool. ‘My lord husband, I told him that I am a woman of honour, and I—’
‘You promised,’ Alan repeated. He extended his hand to his wife, and she went to his bedside. ‘This is not about your desires or mine, or even his. This is about protecting everything we have built. If I could give you a child, I would have done so by now, Rosamund.’ His complexion had gone grey, and he leaned back against the pillows. ‘If you wait until I am gone, it will be too late. The child’s parentage will be questioned,