‘I don’t understand. How can you marry me when you swore to marry Lady Cecily? Isn’t it dishonourable to break your vow to her? And in any case, I’m only a miller’s daughter, I have no dowry.’ Frowning, she slid her fingers into his hair, probing for the scar the rebels had left on his scalp. ‘You weren’t struck on the head again?’
He grinned down at her. ‘No, my love, I was not.’ He drew her towards the bed and warm lips covered hers. ‘We’ll be married in the morning.’
It took all her willpower to twist away from his kisses. ‘And your ambitions?’
Grey eyes looked steadily into hers. ‘My ambitions are satisfied.’
‘What, all of them?’
His smile was crooked. ‘Most of them. Rosamund, I asked for you and my cousin has consented. Even Lady Adeliza has given us her blessing.’ His voice took on an edge of laughter. ‘And when the Lady Adeliza does that – why, it’s tantamount to a command. She said she’d not have her daughter terrified into an early grave.’
Rosamund shivered. ‘I don’t think Lady Cecily is long for this world.’
His expression sobered. ‘She has the wasting sickness. Poor lady, her life has been one sad trial from start to end. Lady Adeliza has persuaded Geoffrey not to coerce her into anything. He said he thought to give her a protector but Lady Aleliza has persuaded him that Lady Cecily doesn’t have to marry me to secure her place at Ingerthorpe.
‘Lady Adeliza has decided that you’re more suited to be my wife. You have a formidable ally there, my love, she holds you in great esteem.’ His voice went husky. ‘Angel, I do have one ambition that has yet to be met, and it’s becoming more pressing by the moment. Rosamund?’ He lowered his head, and pushed himself against her.
She turned her mouth to his and let out a sigh of pure pleasure. Her blood tingled and her toes curled. If it weren’t for one thing – Alfwold! – she would be dissolving into a puddle of bliss. However, she didn’t want Alfwold to end his days in a ditch and since returning to the castle, she’d not had a moment to make enquiries about his fate.
Grimacing, she held back. ‘Do you know what’s to happen with Alfwold?’
‘Lord, but you’re a wriggler,’ Oliver said, without rancour. ‘Don’t worry about him. I’ve spoken to my cousin on his account, recommending him as the next tenant of your father’s mill. That way he can stay there – the village could do with a permanent stone-dresser, in any case.’
Rosamund stared mistily up at him. ‘Thank you, I was worried. At heart, he’s a kind man and it seemed so unjust that he should have to spend his days trudging the highways. He hates it. He’ll be able to help my father, and he’ll have standing in the village.’ She paused, flushing. ‘And the villagers will know that one day they’ll have an honest miller who gives them their full measures.’
Thoughtfully, she twirled a strand of hair round her finger.
‘Something else troubles you?’
‘I’ll be a lady if we marry.’
‘Not if, when.’ He cupped her face with his palm. ‘You’ll be a lady in the morning.’
‘It’s an honour I’d not thought of. I don’t think I can-’
‘You can and will,’ he said, firmly.
‘But...me? A lady?’
‘You’ll not be too much of one, I trust.’ Oliver said, kissing her nose.
‘So my name will be-’
‘Lady Rosamund de Warenne.’ He kissed her neck.
Stunned by her extraordinary rise in fortune, Rosamund waved her hand about the bedchamber. ‘I’m not born to this. I only know half a dozen words of Norman French.’
His arms tightened. ‘You can learn.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you want me as your wife.’
‘Rosamund, hear this – I was prepared to give Lance to Geoffrey if it meant I could have you.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Truly?’
‘Fortunately...’ he grinned ‘...Lady Adeliza took my part, and it wasn’t necessary.’
Her heart lifted, he must really want to marry her if he’d been prepared to part with Lance. Oliver loved her, and she wanted him to admit it. She opened her eyes at him. ‘You would have chosen me, the miller’s daughter, rather than your destrier? Sir, I’m flattered.’
He gave her a wary look. ‘Rosamund?’
‘Luck has been on your side of late, hasn’t it? You have your warhorse back unharmed and-’
‘Not quite unharmed. The wretches damaged his mouth. And they’ve used a whip on him. I’d be the first to admit that Lance needs firm handling, but they’ve mangled him.’