When Love Awaits(30)
“Not any longer. He asks me to meet him at the pasture dividing the properties.” Leonie’s frown deepened. “Whatever is he doing here?”
“Will you meet him?”
“I would have, but he wanted to meet at noon today.”
“I thought he was afraid of your husband.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Then what can he be thinking of, coming back to the Black Wolf’s den?”
“Do not call him that,” Leonie snapped.
“I—I beg your pardon, my lady.”
Leonie’s eyes widened. Sweet Mary, what was wrong with her?
“Never mind, Wilda. Get some sleep. It has been a long day.”
As Wilda slipped out of the room, Leonie tossed the note into the fire, then crawled into the bed her maid had fitted with the sheets they had brought along. But she could not sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking of Alain. What could he be thinking of, coming back to his home when he had sworn it would be worth his life to do so?
She began to wonder if that had been a lie. Everything Alain had told her that day about her husband had turned out to be either lies or fearful delusions. From all she had come to know, Rolfe d’Ambert was not the man she had cursed that fateful day. He had faults, but harsh vengeance was not in his nature. She herself could attest to that.
“Are you asleep, Leonie?”
How quietly he had come into the room! “No, my lord.”
“Will you help me then? I have sent Damian on to bed.”
She smiled. Lately he asked for her help so reluctantly, entirely different from his previously arrogant demands. She wondered if he regretted his earlier manner.
“Sit here, my lord.”
She got up from the narrow bed that was so much smaller than their own and began to unlace his chausses. His heavy hauberk had been removed by Damian.
“I would like to check your wound,” Leonie said. “To see if the ride today has opened it.”
“That is unnecessary.”
How tired he sounded. “Humor me, my lord.”
“ ‘Humor me, my lord,’ ” he repeated wearily. “You ask for much, but give so little. Humor me, my lady. Tell me why you will not give us a chance?”
She stiffened, then looked away. “You know why.”
“Of course.” He sighed. “I had thought your feelings might have changed.”
She was genuinely puzzled. Why would he ask her that when it was he who was not allowing them a chance? She was then struck by the incredible thought that he might be keeping his mistress nearby because of her own coldness to him. She was so stunned that she froze where she stood, unmoving. Was he only waiting for her to warm to him before he renounced other women?
She was terribly confused. Should she let the subject lie, or ask what she wanted to ask? “Let—let me remove your tunic,” she said quickly, bending toward him. In doing so, her linen robe slipped open and Rolfe’s eyes fastened on her beautiful breasts. He took a long, deep breath, his eyes moving slowly up to hers. She saw great longing there, and realized that he had been celibate since his injury. He was tired from the journey, but that did not seem to matter.
Heat stole up her cheeks and she pulled her robe together. This was not the time for a return of his amorous attentions. How could she ask him about his disturbing question if he continued to look at her this way?
Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed the hem of his tunic and pulled it over his head carefully, so as not to pull on his wound. She did the same with his undershirt, then moved away to the opposite side of the room so that he could stand up and remove the rest of his clothing.
The suspense was unbearable, and she finally blurted, “My lord, if—if I were to change…would you send Lady Amelia away?”
“No.”
He spoke flatly and without hesitation, and a sick feeling gathered in Leonie’s belly. She closed her eyes, miserable. Fool! She had asked the question she knew better than to ask, and received the answer she dreaded.
“What has the one to do with the other?” Rolfe demanded, his voice sharp.
“N-nothing, my lord,” she whispered.
“Then explain yourself.”
Leonie panicked. What could she tell him? She recalled Amelia telling her that Rolfe did not like jealousies. Was that how he interpreted her question, believing she was jealous? Of course she wasn’t jealous. Why should she be when she did not love Rolfe? Lord, how she wanted to cry.
She said tonelessly, “I have had your ward on my mind since I saw her this morning, because I wondered why you did not include her on this trip. I thought perhaps you were angry with her.”
He came and stood in front of her, his body tense.
“I am not angry with her. There was no reason to bring her with us. She does not like court.”
“I do not like court, but you dragged me with you.”
“You are my wife!”
Leonie whirled around, her back to him. It would serve no purpose to let her own anger loose, but she was barely able to hold it in check.
“I thought you got along well with Amelia,” he said, and she turned around slowly.
“Of course I do,” she replied sharply. “Why ever should I not?” She was close to tears.
“Damn me, Leonie! What is this about? Have you had words with Amelia?”
She shook her head. “I would not hurt her, if that is what you fear.”
“Hurt her? Why are we even speaking of her?” Rolfe’s frustration was mounting rapidly. What was this all about?
“You want her sent away, is that it?”
“I did not say so. I asked if you would, and you said you would not, so that is that.”
She tried to turn away again, but Rolfe’s hands fastened tightly on her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes so intently that she couldn’t look away. “You know! That is what this is about! Who told you?”
“My lord?” Leonie asked, then burst into tears. Shocked, he gathered her in his arms, holding her gently. “I swear you will drive me mad, Leonie. Why can you never speak plainly to me?”
She continued to sob. Let him think whatever he liked. She should not have said anything, and she refused to say any more. No one was going to accuse her of being a jealous wife.
He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and cradled her, rocking her gently until her tears subsided. His hand moved soothingly over her hair and back, lulling her. And then suddenly he was kissing her, but she managed to break the spell and push him back from her, denying her own needs as well as his.
“My lord, no, not now—please,” she beseeched, bracing herself for his anger.
But he surprised her. “Just let me hold you then, dearling. I will do no more than that.”
She very nearly cried again, he was being so kind. She bowed her head, and after he stretched out under the covers, he pulled her to him. It was a long time before she slept, but eventually she drifted into a dream-plagued sleep, pressed firmly against her husband.
Chapter 30
A FLUTTERING of movement woke Rolfe and he opened his eyes to see Leonie slipping out of bed. Their argument had caused him to lie awake half the night trying to piece together what had happened.
It was possible that she might learn what Amelia had been to him, but he didn’t even want to think about that possibility. If Leonie insisted Amelia leave, how could he explain to her that Amelia must stay? He could not tell Leonie the other woman was to bear him a child. He had told her Amelia was his ward. If she learned about Amelia’s child, he would lose any further chance to win her love.
He watched Leonie as she slipped into her blue linen robe and moved over to the small hearth. She sat down on a stool there to begin combing the tangles from her hair. The light from the window made her silken silver tresses shine. How lovely she was!
And she was considerate, a truly kind woman. She would not call for her maid as long as he was asleep. And she was as kind to the servants as she was to him.
What was it about this woman that turned him inside out? She caused him sleepless nights, made his temper run riot, caused him endless confusion, endless worry. Caused his hopes to rise, then to crumble. Would he ever be at ease with her?
Thorpe suggested he talk with her frankly, but Rolfe wasn’t willing to take that risk. In truth, he feared that the real reason she had been against him from the start was that she loved that craven knight, Alain Montigny. The sole reason for her hatred of him was that he now owned Montigny’s land. Was that the truth? The last thing he wanted was to force such a confession from her. It would end his hopes.
Leonie felt him staring at her. She rose and went to him, looking worried.
“It is no wonder you slept so long. You have tried to do too much too soon, my lord,” she scolded gently. “Let me see your wound now, will you?”
He nodded. Her silver-gray eyes met his. “My lord, I beg you to forget last night. I was overly tired and—and I am never myself when I am nervous. If I angered you, I am sorry.”
“You are still so nervous about meeting Henry?”
She nodded and gave him a baleful look.
“Then we will return to Crewel.”
She was stunned. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course,” he said simply. “I didn’t realize you were so frightened.”
“It is not fear, exactly. More like…unease,” she assured him. “I am sure it will pass.” Knowing that he was willing to change his plans for her added greatly to her self-confidence. “It is too late to turn back now. The king expects us.”