A spur jingled. She looked up in time to see someone walking into the stairwell. The door closed behind a tall mailed figure. She had been too late to make out which knight it was, but the sudden pulsing of the blood in her veins gave her the answer.
Oliver.
Tired? She wasn’t tired. Scrambling up, she hurried after him, even though she didn’t have any idea what she would say when she caught up with him. What am I to you? A lover? A friend? Will you ever love me?
Unfortunately, Oliver’s long legs were too quick and there was no chance of private conversation for when she reached at the top of the keep, his voice was coming out of the small bedchamber presently occupied by his wounded cousin.
‘He rambles yet,’ Lady Adeliza said. ‘But I have hopes, nephew, he’s strong. Your wench – remind me of her name?’
‘My wench, my lady?’
Lady Adeliza gave a dry laugh. ‘You know very well who I mean. Rosamund. The miller’s beautiful daughter.’
‘So you do know her name,’ Oliver said softly.
‘Touché, de Warenne. A hit.’
‘What of Rosamund, my lady?’
‘You mar your looks when you scowl, de Warenne,’ Lady Adeliza said. ‘Be at ease, that girl has been more use to me these past days than all my other ladies put together.’
‘I’m glad of that, my lady.’
‘Who’s there?’ the baron broke in. His voice was weak and querulous.
Rosamund went swiftly in, brushing past Oliver to reach the bed. The bedchamber wasn’t large, Lady Adeliza had insisted that her daughter-in-law’s confinement should take place in the main bedchamber and she had had her son carried to this smaller one. Save for the fact that a fireplace took up the whole of a wall, it was much the same as Oliver’s. A tapestry showing a hunting scene hung behind the bed.
Oliver was painfully conscious of Rosamund sweeping past him. The urge to snatch her to him and hold her close was intense. He ached to inhale the subtle fragrance of rose which she rinsed into her hair; he longed to hold that soft body close to his heart. Keeping his arms firmly behind his back, he laced his fingers together and tried not to stare at her. Clearly, he’d been too long in the rough company of soldiers. He was missing feminine company.
It took effort for Oliver to give Rosamund only the briefest of glances. He pinned his gaze on his cousin, but he’d made the most of that short glimpse. Every detail of her appearance seemed to have burned into his mind. She was wearing a blue gown he’d not seen before – a lady’s gown. Lady Adeliza must have given it to her. The colour became her, emphasising as it did the vivid blue of her eyes. Her cheeks were pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She’d darted him a glance from under her long lashes, and her lips had trembled. He wanted to tease them into a smile. Her hair was braided into a thick, glossy rope and bound with blue ribbon. It was pretty, but he wanted to untie the ribbon, that honey-gold hair was prettier undone.
Knocked back by the way his every nerve was aware of her, Oliver tried to concentrate on his cousin. Lord Geoffrey’s colour was high, his brown hair was drenched with sweat, and he was struggling to push himself up on the pillows. His eyes were glassy. Lord, he looked ill.
‘Be calm, Geoffrey.’ Lady Adeliza laid a firm hand on her son’s chest. ‘Or you will undo all our good work.’
‘Mother, you’ve not allowed de Warenne into the keep, have you?’ Sir Geoffrey asked hoarsely. Weakly, he pushed his mother’s hands aside.
Oliver kept his expression neutral. ‘Yes, cousin, I’m here,’ he said. ‘You must rest, you can trust me.’
‘Trust you?’ Baron Geoffrey choked. ‘For God’s sake, Mother, get him out of here! He’s planned everything, he’s after my lands.’ Chest heaving, he struggled to a sitting position.
Lady Adeliza exchanged glances with Rosamund. Between them, they guided Lord Geoffrey back under the covers.
‘He’ll kill me,’ the baron muttered, rolling his head from side to side. ‘He broke his bond, and a man who breaks his word is capable of anything. When he left the castle he had no intention of fulfilling his obligations.’
‘That’s not true, my lord,’ Oliver said. ‘I have not broken faith with you.’
Lord Geoffrey went still and his eyes cleared. ‘You should have been back at dawn, why weren’t you?’
‘Bodily weakness prevented me, my lord.’
Lord Geoffrey glanced briefly at Rosamund. His lip curled into a sneer. ‘Bodily weakness? That’s one way of putting it.’
Oliver’s face heated. ‘My lord, if I hadn’t gone after Rosamund, I would never have found the rebel camp.’