Shattered Vows(29)

The mattress moved and she felt a light touch on her head. A caress?

He cleared his throat. ‘Rosamund?’ His hand settled on the nape of her neck. ‘Look at me. Open your eyes.’

Cringing inside at what she had proposed, dreading the scorn she must see in his eyes, she slowly obeyed.

‘Why? Why do you want a lover?’

She was curling up with shame. ‘You think it is wrong of me to ask. I have shocked you.’

‘You are...’ fleetingly, he touched her ring ‘...a newly married woman. And newly married women do not usually take landless squires as their lovers.’

The grey eyes gleamed, he was laughing at her!

‘Don’t mock me.’ Twisting in bed, she pushed angrily at his chest. ‘Don’t.’

Oliver rested his head on his hand. Never had he seen a girl look so embarrassed. She was such a novelty. And such a beauty. Mon Dieu, those huge blue eyes; that gold-streaked hair; that blush; that body...

Having her offer herself in such a way was temptation such as he had never known. He wanted her, he had from the first, but he couldn’t afford an entanglement. He had ambitions, and they didn’t include being shackled to peasant girl even if she did possess the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and the softest, most welcoming lips.

Oliver frowned. Besides, she was married. What was she up to? Had she decided that Sir Geoffrey’s squire had more to offer than this Alfwold? She was angry now, working herself up to a fury to hide her embarrassment. He would let her rant a little, he might learn more about her motives. Those blue eyes were not made to deceive.

Rosamund saw Oliver frown and it fuelled her anger. ‘How dare you sit in judgement on me? You don’t know what it’s like to have to agree to wed someone for whom you feel nothing!’

‘Is he cruel then, this husband of yours? Will he ill-use you?’

‘Alfwold isn’t cruel. It’s my father who...’ she bit her lip.

‘You are fortunate then, in this husband of yours.’

Oliver’s face held polite, detached interest. She groaned. ‘What’s the use, someone like you can never understand.’

‘Try me.’

She searched his eyes and dropped her gaze to his chest. He was wearing a gold cross. Gold. It was yet another sign of the gulf between his world and hers. This man’s clothes are edged with gold thread; he wears a gold cross...

She moistened her lips. ‘That...that day on the beach. May Day...’ she hesitated, and caught the tail end of a smile. She took it as encouragement. ‘I liked you then, I thought you very handsome.’ She felt herself blush, but pressed on. ‘I knew it was wrong to kiss you, but my betrothal to Alfwold was only...well...I have often wondered what it would be like to kiss a man I was truly interested in – someone I had chosen. I didn’t lie when I told you I had no lover. I have never known a man. But...but if I had the choice, I would choose someone like you, someone who is tall, and strong, and proud – someone whom I desire.’

‘You flatter me.’ Oliver said. His mouth was strangely tender.

‘Is so great a sin for a woman to admit to feeling desire? Is it wrong to wish that once, just once, I might know the pleasure of making love to someone who makes my heart beat loud and the blood rush in my ears? Is that so very wrong?’

He shook his head. ‘It happens often enough. Just be sure you don’t confuse me with your dream. I am far from the paragon you seem to expect. Don’t expect me to fall in love with you.’

There was a little sputtering noise and the shadows danced up and down the walls.

‘The candle’s going out,’ she said.

Her pulse began to race. She saw in his face that he would make love to her and now that it had come upon her, she was a bundle of nerves.

Oliver slid his hand round her neck and combed his fingers through her hair. It tumbled like a cloak about her shoulders. He glanced at the wall sconce. ‘I’ll light another candle.’ His voice deepened as his hand slid to her waist. ‘I want to watch your face and see your body.’ He pressed a light kiss on her cheek.

He was only gone a moment or two. Rosamund lay perfectly still, heart pumping. The yellow glow strengthened as he lit another candle. A faint hiss told her he’d placed the new candle on the heel of the old. The shadows steadied.

Soon, she would know what it was to have a lover. She shivered.

And then he was beside her again, folding her carefully in strong arms. You’re not cold, are you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, but I am a nervous. I’m new to this...’

‘Hush.’ His lips found hers in a kiss that was oddly chaste. It was very soft, as though he was afraid he might startle her into changing her mind.