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

‘Barely a cloud in sight.’ Jerrard glanced up at the sky as he mounted his courser the next morning. ‘Makes a change.’

‘Not for long, I expect.’ Laurent sounded uncharacteristically pessimistic, probably due to the vast amount of wine he’d consumed the night before, Matthew thought, exchanging a knowing look with Jerrard. His friend had done enough celebrating for all three of them. ‘We should make progress while we can.’

‘I know.’ Matthew made one last, unnecessary adjustment to his bridle. He was stalling, giving Constance the time she needed to say a proper goodbye to her family, but Laurent was right, they were wasting the day. Now that he’d reunited with his wife and found out where Roul d’Amboise’s political sympathies lay there was no more reason to tarry, especially while the weather stayed dry. If he were using his common sense, then they would have left an hour ago, only for some inexplicable reason he wasn’t using his common sense and the realisation of it bothered him.

‘I’ll fetch her.’

He gritted his teeth and made his way determinedly across the courtyard towards the front door of the manor, half-afraid of the scene he might find. The lengthy speeches that had taken up half of the previous night’s banquet had shown him how loved and valued Constance was in her uncle’s household, so much so that he’d felt almost churlish at taking her away from them. Despite his own personal aversion to emotional displays in general, however, it had been strangely satisfying because of what all that emotion implied. No matter what she’d said about not wanting to leave Lacelby five years before, Constance had obviously been happy living with her uncle and aunt. She’d been welcomed into their family and loved. Whatever her own objections, surely that was what her parents would have wanted for her?

Given the lateness of the hour at which the banquet had finally drawn to a close, it had been more convenient for them to sleep in separate chambers, ostensibly to give her one last night with her cousins, but also in the hope that she might cry herself out, along with everyone else, by morning. The last thing he’d wanted was a crying woman on the journey beside him today, though to his relief, as he approached the front door, he could see that Constance at least wasn’t crying. Her eyes were as red-rimmed and puffy as if they might have been earlier, but she was doing her best to put on a brave face now. Which was doubly impressive since her aunt and female cousins, not to mention the youngest boy, were all openly sobbing. Again.

‘Constance?’ He set a hand on her shoulder, gently extricating her from her eldest cousin’s bear-like embrace. ‘It’s time to go. We have a lot of ground to cover before dark.’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t look at him, leaning forward instead to give her aunt one last kiss on the cheek. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘Don’t speak of it.’ Her aunt waved a hand in front of her face as if she were struggling to restrain yet more tears and then gave him a stern look. ‘Take care of her.’

‘I promise, my lady. Thank you again for your hospitality.’

He bowed and took a firm hold of Constance’s elbow, preventing her from turning back as another cousin called out.

‘Are you all right?’ The question came out more gruffly than he’d intended, but somehow the feeling of her arm beneath his fingertips made his chest feel tight.

‘Yes.’ She sounded tense again. ‘I just didn’t think leaving would be so hard.’

‘They’re your family. It’s perfectly natural to be sad about leaving them.’ Maybe not in the case of his family, but for others...

‘Isabella’s getting married next summer.’ She gave him a sidelong look, eyes burning with the same defiance he’d seen there yesterday. ‘I want to come back for her wedding.’

‘Then you should.’

‘Oh... Good.’

She sounded faintly surprised and he stopped walking to face her.

‘Did you think I would forbid it?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Constance, I thought we got past this yesterday. Are you feeling uncomfortable again?’

‘A little,’ she admitted. ‘It’s been a difficult morning and everything’s just happened so quickly. There’s still so much we have to learn about each other.’

‘Then we’ll make a start on the journey. We’ll have plenty of time for talking, but first things first.’ He led her on towards a white-and-brown-speckled palfrey. ‘They tell me this is your favourite horse.’

‘Yes, she’s called Vixen, but she belongs to my uncle.’

‘Not any more.’ He picked up the reins and handed them to her. ‘She’s yours now.’

‘You bought her for me?’ She stared as if she didn’t believe him at first, before bursting into one of the widest smiles Matthew had ever seen. Somehow the movement made her eyes change shape, the lower line flattening out as her cheekbones and mouth lifted. Oddly enough, her eyes appeared to be a different colour today, pale grey like the sky, though at that moment there seemed to be sunbeams sparkling across them. It was the first time he’d seen her smile properly and the effect was as stunning as it was unexpectedly lovely, transforming and lighting up her whole face. It made him want to move closer and bask in its warmth. For an alarming moment he actually couldn’t tear his eyes away, wondering how her mouth would feel pressed up against his. How it would taste, too... Her pink rosebud lips were certainly tempting enough...

‘I don’t know what to say.’ She was still beaming, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having on his suddenly muddled senses. ‘Thank you.’

‘Consider it a late wedding present.’ He finally managed to take a step backwards, acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes watching them. ‘Now if you’re ready?’

He held the palfrey steady as she put one foot in the stirrup, unable to resist a swift glance at the lower half of her body as she mounted. The view from behind, he discovered, was just as enticing as that from the front.

‘Comfortable?’ He cleared his throat, surprised by the strength of his body’s response. He didn’t usually allow himself to be distracted, no matter how ample or beguiling the curves. ‘Then let’s go.’

They rode out of the courtyard side by side, Constance waving goodbye to her family until they were out of the gates into the town. Unfortunately, there were more farewells to be said there as various well-wishers stopped to bid her good fortune, but after what felt like another hour they were finally free and on to the road.

The muddy ruts and furrows caused by the recent storms made their progress slow going, though fortunately the weather was on their side today, with only a few wisps of grey cloud scudding across the sky as they headed north. As it turned out, his wife was an able horsewoman, Matthew discovered, directing her palfrey around the puddles and occasional quagmires with ease and a gentle touch. It was clear that she didn’t need his assistance, though he rode beside her anyway, letting Jerrard and Laurent go ahead while the baggage carts, accompanied by four of her uncle’s men, followed behind.

Despite an admittedly rough start, he had to admit that being married wasn’t too bad, so far anyway. Turning back from the solar door when he’d been ready to walk away had proven to be one of his wiser decisions. Even the wedding banquet had been less of an ordeal than he’d expected, mainly thanks to her. In contrast to their earlier meeting, she hadn’t appeared nervous at all, maintaining an air of quiet dignity and composure even when some of the bawdier comments had reached their ears. Matthew had found himself admiring that composure, not to mention the rest of her as she’d sat at the high table beside him, looking nothing at all like a woman who’d been considering an annulment just a few hours, possibly minutes before.

He had to admit that he’d misjudged her. He’d come back from France expecting the same frightened-looking girl he’d left behind and found a defiant woman instead. She’d been argumentative and insulting, although as it turned out with every right. Looking back at the past five years from her perspective, it was no wonder she’d been so angry with him. He’d made mistakes right from the start of their marriage. Not only had he not spoken to her on their wedding day or consulted her about where she wanted to live, but he’d left the country without so much as a goodbye and then not contacted her again until just over a week ago. He’d relied on her uncle’s occasional reports, but in retrospect he ought to have considered how his behaviour might appear.

He’d done his best to make amends by offering her a way out of the marriage. Given the undeniable truth of her accusations, it had seemed the only fair thing to do. Annulling their marriage would have caused no end of problems with his father, although considering his personal involvement in the barons’ plot against the King, it would have solved others, too. He wasn’t a traitor, not yet anyway, but it was entirely possible that if the rebellion went wrong then the ramifications would extend to property as well as persons. Theoretically, he could lose Lacelby, although as possibilities went, that was surely over-alarmist. The King’s natural instinct for self-preservation meant he would surely change his behaviour and come to some arrangement with the barons before it was too late. That, Matthew assured himself, was the most likely outcome. With any luck, they’d agree to terms by the new year and the rebellion would be over before it had even begun, with Constance none the wiser.

In the meantime, now that she’d chosen to remain as his wife—a decision that had left him feeling unexpectedly relieved—the least he could do was the one thing she’d asked and take her home. Beyond that, she didn’t seem to have any expectations of him at all. Certainly no romantic ones if her initial behaviour was anything to go by. Which was a relief. Considering what else he was involved in, he didn’t have time for romantic feelings, even if he had any interest in them, which he didn’t. Better to leave feelings out of it and try to live together peacefully instead. Their marriage was a practical arrangement, nothing more, although he had to admit it would have been easier if she hadn’t been quite so attractive.

Overall, she was proving to be far more of a distraction than he’d anticipated. He’d found himself thinking about her even after he’d closed his eyes the previous night: the generous curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts over the square neck of her gown, the way they rose and fell with each breath... Strange how she’d assumed that he would have preferred to find himself married to one of her cousins, as if she didn’t consider herself attractive at all. In his eyes, there was no comparison. Which he might have told her if his first attempt at a compliment hadn’t gone so disastrously wrong...

‘You can ride with your friends if you wish.’ Her voice broke into his thoughts.

‘I don’t wish.’ He waved the suggestion away. There were certainly matters that he could—and possibly should—be discussing with his friends, but his conscience wouldn’t let him abandon her so soon after leaving her family. Besides, if he were going to ride anywhere then it would be behind where he could admire her posterior again. He was already feeling somewhat jealous of her saddle...and finding it difficult to stop his eyes from drifting in that direction. ‘We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, remember?’

‘So we are.’ She gave him a speculative look. ‘In that case, there was something I didn’t understand about what you said yesterday.’

‘What was that?’

‘Well...’ she frowned slightly ‘...when you offered an annulment you said you had bigger concerns, as if it didn’t matter to you whether we stayed married or not. So why did you marry me in the first place?’

He swore inwardly, wishing he’d taken the opportunity to ride ahead with Jerrard and Laurent after all. His reasons for marrying weren’t something he wanted to think about, let alone talk about, though he didn’t want to lie either. ‘Because it was a good match. Our properties are adjacent and my father wanted to add Lacelby to the Wintercott estate.’

‘So it was your father who wanted the marriage?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you must have had a choice.’ Her eyes widened abruptly. ‘Or did he force you?’

‘Not exactly.’ He paused, searching for a better word. Coerced, bullied, blackmailed... ‘But it made sense from a practical point of view.’

‘Practical.’ She sighed. ‘That’s what my uncle said, too. Practical. Safe.’

‘Those are the things marriages like ours are based on.’ He felt oddly defensive all of a sudden. ‘It doesn’t mean that we can’t be content.’

‘I suppose not.’

He twisted his head to study her. Something in her voice suggested that she found the idea of contentment distinctly underwhelming, though given the circumstances, she could hardly expect more. Surely not love? Arranged marriages had nothing to do with love. Even if he hadn’t had more important matters on his mind, he wasn’t the man to provide that particular emotion. Even friendship was out of the question. The last time he’d been friends with a woman, he’d ended up fleeing the country filled with anger, guilt and regret. He never wanted to go through anything like that again, though on the other hand surely it was safe to be friends with his wife? He didn’t dislike her after all. Her soulful grey-blue eyes, her direct way of speaking, her thoughtful manner—all of those things appealed to him. Not to mention the way she filled the front of her gown almost to bursting...