Читать книгу Reclaimed By Her Rebel Knight - Jenni Fletcher - Страница 16

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.’