Bedded By The Warrior. Denise Lynn. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Denise Lynn
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781408933657
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      It seemed a good choice for all concerned. She would be spared the horrors of a cell, or the danger of life alone outside the court. And he would have the benefit of a wife without any emotional attachment. In addition he’d gain an experienced woman in his bed, not a simpering, frightened virgin.

      Perhaps the appearance of Langsford and Arnyll had been a blessing. It had given him the opportunity to witness Sarah at work firsthand, instead of watching from afar.

      He’d heard the men’s voices as they had neared the alcove. Although he had been unable to hear their words, Sarah’s reaction made him aware that she had heard them. At first, her response to his closeness had been tentative.

      But the nearer the men had come to the alcove, the louder their voices had become, the more passionate she had acted. For some reason, Sarah had felt it necessary to make certain he hadn’t heard what the men had been saying.

      He wasn’t some court dandy that she could ply with her wiles in an attempt to distract him. While knowing that Sarah had secrets so dire she needed to keep them from him did not please him in the least, it had been interesting—near amusing—to discover that turning the tables served to fluster her.

      ‘What is wrong?’

      Sarah’s question startled him out of his musings. ‘Nothing.’

      ‘Ah, so not only are you thick-headed, you lie, too.’

      Certain he couldn’t have heard her correctly, he looked at her, asking, ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘I did not live this long without learning to read a person’s expressions.’ She studied him intently, as if looking for something, and then explained, ‘Your frown, the stiffening of your body, and your sudden interest in our surroundings—all tell me that something is wrong.’

      ‘It’s nothing that concerns you.’

      Sarah reached up and flicked a braid over her shoulder. ‘No, of course not.’ She paused to smile and flutter her eyelashes before adding, ‘I am but a simple woman with not a care in the world, nor a useful thought in my head.’

      They weren’t in the castle; they were no longer at court. There was no need for her to put on such airs, or take such a snappish tone with him.

      William was certain there were two ways to get her to drop her play acting—seduction or an insult. At the moment, seduction would be rather difficult. He stared hard at her and said, ‘Simple woman? No. I am guessing you have all the makings of a shrew.’

      Instead of flinching away in shame, or becoming angry, as he had hoped, Sarah’s laughter rang loud, chasing the birds from their perches overhead. ‘Perhaps you might have discovered that before insisting I become your wife.’

      Not quite the response he’d expected, but she was right. ‘I imagine there are a great many things I might have discovered about you beforehand…had I the time.’

      ‘Do not place that blame on me. It wasn’t my idea to wed.’

      ‘No, but you didn’t argue too much about being discovered in bed with me.’

      A faint tinge of red covered her cheeks, but Sarah didn’t turn away. ‘You know that I had a task to perform for the Queen. What other choice did I have?’

      She might not have had a choice then, but she had choices now. ‘I find it all rather odd.’

      She curled her fingers tighter around the reins, but calmly asked, ‘How so?’

      ‘Even after Eleanor ordered you from her sight, you ran away from me. I can only assume you went to seek refuge from the Queen. Why is that?’

      ‘I wanted her to stop this marriage.’ Sarah reached over and briefly touched his arm. ‘It was nothing personal, William. I simply did not wish to be forced into a marriage so quickly.’

      He looked down at her hand just as she jerked her arm away. ‘Becoming someone’s wife is very personal.’

      ‘It need not be.’

      ‘Some marriages, perhaps. But this one will be.’

      ‘How so?’

      William folded his hands atop the pommel of his saddle. ‘I knew what was said about you when I requested this marriage.’

      ‘Requested?’ She leaned slightly away and stared up at him. ‘You never requested that I wed you.’

      He shrugged. ‘Regardless, I took you as wife, knowing you were the Queen’s whore.’

      ‘I tried to talk you out of wedding such a woman as I.’

      Ignoring her, he continued, ‘In return, I expect little from you.’

      ‘Then that is what you will get.’

      William tightened his fingers around the top of the pommel, holding his temper in check. For whatever reason, Sarah was itching for an argument. If she wasn’t a little more careful, she might get more than what she wanted.

      ‘You are alone in this world, Sarah. There is no one to take care of you, or to protect you, except me. If you desire that security, you need to learn to trust me. You have no other choice.’

      He lifted his gaze to capture hers. ‘Tell me again, how can two people sharing a life, a home, a name and a marriage bed not be personal?’

      ‘We have shared no marriage bed.’ She held his stare, while adding, ‘Nor will we.’

      ‘Oh?’ Her direct challenge surprised him. Didn’t she realise he’d not ignore her dare? He wanted to tell her that one day she would be more than willing to come to his bed. But he fought to hold his comment back. Finally, he asked, ‘What makes you think we won’t share a marriage bed?’

      All colour left her face at the mere suggestion that she couldn’t stop him. Sarah turned away, stiffened her back and stared out over her horse’s head. ‘You would not force me.’

      He didn’t believe he’d have to force her. But why did the idea frighten her so? And she was afraid. He knew what fear looked like from experience. He could see her fear in the stiffness of her bearing, in the paleness of her face and heard it in the hesitant, less certain, tone of her voice.

      The need to ease her worries prompted him to move closer, to uncurl her fingers from the reins and take her hand in his. William lifted her hand to his lips and dropped a chaste kiss on her knuckles. ‘I doubt if force would prove necessary, my lady.’

      Sarah jerked her hand free. ‘You have a high opinion of yourself, my lord.’

      ‘Perhaps. But there is not a man alive who would dismiss your challenge.’

      ‘I issued no challenge.’

      ‘No? Do you truly think me that naïve?’ At her bewildered look, he explained, ‘Your ruse is as ancient as time. An experienced woman boldly tells a man that she will not share his bed, knowing full well that it will be a challenge he cannot refuse. You have no secrets in that regard. Every man knows she does it intentionally, Sarah, in expectation of eventually losing the chase.’

      She parted her lips, then clamped them tightly together without saying a word.

      Her reaction baffled him. He expected more of an argument from her. William moved away. His wife was a ball of mass confusion wrapped in beautiful finery.

      He glanced sidelong at Sarah again riding silently beside him. A man in his position would never imagine himself wed to one as lovely as Lady Sarah.

      She turned briefly to glare at him and he hid a smile of amusement. No battle to the death had made his stomach knot, or sweat bead on his forehead in such a manner. Yet, this little bit of a woman sent his body, and mind, reeling with nothing more than a glance his way.

      And when she once again turned away, a cold wind swept over his body, leaving him strangely bereft of warmth. He sighed