Lady Adeliza’s black eyes lingered pointedly on Rosamund’s tangled hair, on her torn gown. Rosamund held onto the pommel and glared back. Thank God, the roan stood firm. Lady Adeliza’s expression was proud. Unreadable. She lifted a wrinkled white hand to hide a quiver of her lips and to Rosamund’s surprise she was favoured with a reply.
‘There was a ransom demand. However, after the attack in which my son was wounded, some suspected the demand was a ruse. It was suggested that my nephew had thrown his lot in with the rebels.’ Lady Adeliza’s lips twitched as she cocked an eyebrow at Oliver. ‘You have a fierce ally in that wench of yours, de Warenne.’
Oliver shrugged. ‘It seems the maid is struck with the notion of having a knight as a lover. It’s not in her interests to see me disgraced.’
Rosamund glared at him. ‘Oliver!’
Grey eyes met hers. ‘It will save you the trouble of finding another protector, especially since we find you are not wed after all.’ He reached up and lifted her to the ground, slapping her dismissively on the buttocks. ‘Get to the ladies’ chamber. My lady will need your help.’
Gritting her teeth, she smiled sweetly at him. ‘And which lady do you mean me to help, sir? Lady Margaret or your Lady Cecily?’
‘Whoever needs it the most, of course.’ Oliver turned on his heel, leaving her to scowl at his broad back. ‘Sir Gerard, your report, please. Where do we stand with these rebels?’
Sir Gerard glanced at Lady Adeliza.
Lady Adeliza sighed. ‘Tell him, Gerard, and for God’s sake give him back his spurs. Someone has to take command. My son cannot be moved and Lord Hewitt has not yet returned. No-one else is fit for command.’
Sir Gerard puffed out his chest. ‘But, my lady-’
‘Take over, de Warenne.’ Lady Adeliza gave him a thin smile. ‘I trust you’ll not disappoint your aunt.’
‘Your servant, as ever, my lady,’ Oliver said, inclining his head.
Rosamund felt two inches high. He had time to play the gallant with his aunt, while she was dismissed with an insulting slap on the buttocks. Was this how it was going to be now he knew she was unwed? He had taken her maidenhead – in a sense he had ruined her. She was a fallen woman and no-one, not even Oliver who knew she had been innocent when she met him, respected a fallen woman.
‘Come, Gerard...’ Oliver was entirely focused on his fellow knight ‘...accompany me to the armoury. What was their strength when they attacked? How many men did we lose? And where the devil is Hewitt?’ His voice held authority. His demeanour, as he started for the armoury, was calm.
She shivered. So cool. So controlled. The old Oliver was back. Had the Oliver she had glimpsed in the past few hours – warm, loving – simply been a figment of her imagination?
His height and his dark hair made it easy for her to follow his progress. A group of archers parted to let him pass. Sir Gerard was hopping alongside him, stammering into one ear, whilst the squire who’d lately clung to Sir Gerard was busily filling Oliver’s other ear. Oliver directed an order at the squire. The lad flashed him a look of intense relief and his face split into a smile. Then he was off, keen as hound racing to do his master’s bidding. A groom panted up and he too claimed Oliver’s attention.
And he hadn’t given her so much as a backward glance. It was clear that until this crisis was ended, she would be forgotten. There was an ache in her heart, but she couldn’t look away. His callous dismissal had hit her like a spear thrust through her vitals. He must have heard every word she’d uttered in Lufu’s hut. If only she’d kept her foolish fantasies to herself. Then he wouldn’t have given ear to Lufu’s suggestion that she should try and trick him into marriage. He thinks all I care about is feathering my nest. He doesn’t trust me.
Had she admitted that she loved him? It was a struggle to remember her exact words – she was too agitated to think straight. Even if she had admitted that she loved him, in his present frame of mind he’d likely think it was a ploy to trap him into marriage. He wouldn’t believe her. And if he did believe her, would he care? She stared blindly at the ground.
What would happen to her? Would he discard her as his lover? No. No. That mustn’t be allowed to happen. She didn’t care if he refused to marry her. Let him wed the Lady Cecily as he had sworn to do. But he must keep me as his lover.
All was not completely lost – there was comfort in the fact that he’d stopped Alfwold from taking her back to the mill. And he’d kissed her at the falls. He mistrusted her – and yet he’d kissed her. Which meant that he desired her none the less. For now, that would have to do. Her eyes prickled and the bailey was misted with tears.