When Love Awaits(36)
“What have you seen?” Derek demanded, scanning the clearing.
“No movement, but I thought I heard another sound down the way.”
“Who else heard it?” No answer came, and Derek grunted. “It is as I thought. They will not come this far afield to look for her. We have only to cross the meadow and we will be safe.”
“I will not feel safe until we are rid of her. This was not such a good idea, Derek. Our usual prey do not have such large escorts.”
They moved out, keeping close together. But they were not even halfway across the meadow when a horse and rider moved slowly out from the trees facing them.
“Tell me that is your lord, Derek.” Dread filled the voice.
“Of course it is not. He is not such a large man. But do not panic now,” Derek warned. “This is a full-armored knight. She had no such knight with her.”
“Why does he sit there and stare at us?” Osgar asked uneasily. “Why doesn’t he move?”
“Wait, he comes now,” Derek cautioned. He set Leonie down and shoved her at the others. “Hold her. I may have to fight him.”
“You fight him?”
“With your help, fool,” Derek hissed just as the large destrier came abreast of them. “How may we serve you, my lord?”
“Show me what you have there.”
“Just my lord’s runaway wife. We are often sent to find her and bring her back. She is given to mental affliction.”
“Strange. She looks so like my own wife. Of course, if I thought the lady of Kempston was being rough-handled, I would not like it.”
Derek seemed to lose his tongue completely.
The large knight on the destrier eyed the rough man, waiting for him to speak.
“I think we are meeting the new lord of Kempston,” Derek whispered.
“But the Black Wolf now has Kempston. You mean—”
“Yes. I think—I think this is his wife we have here.”
“God’s mercy, look at her eyes!” the third man cried. “She knows him!”
Osgar’s brother started running before the words were out. The huge destrier cut off his flight in seconds, the flash of a blade felling the man. The bloodcurdling war cry that followed set the other three to running, all in different directions. But it was only moments before the war-horse had run down two, the heavy sword following swiftly.
Osgar ran back the way they had come and would have escaped into the cover of trees before the destrier could cross the clearing, but another knight rode toward him from those woods and dispatched him with a spear.
Leonie could not move. The bodies of her four abductors were strewn around her, but she felt no relief. She was safe—yet not safe. A new ordeal was beginning.
“Finish here, Piers, and then send the men back to camp.” As Rolfe spoke, more of his men rode into the clearing. “If one of those men is still alive, I want to know where they were going with her.”
“Are you…?” Piers began.
“I will be along shortly—with my wife.”
Leonie had removed her gag, but she was too frozen with terror to speak.
Rolfe dismounted and came to stand before her. His face was hidden beneath his helmet, and she could not tell what he was thinking. Silence held her.
Finally, he asked, “Did they hurt you?”
How coldly formal he was! “They—meant to, but the sound of your horses frightened them.” She looked directly up at him then, her eyes imploring. “My lord, I would speak with you—”
“Oh, we will speak, my lady. Do not doubt it.”
Leonie gasped as he gripped her arm and propelled her toward his horse. He mounted, pulling her up into his lap. They rode off toward the woods, then—not toward camp, but away from it.
Leonie was in a misery of dread. She did not want Rolfe to hurt her. But he was going to beat her. Why else would he take her away from the others?
It did not seem as if he would ever stop, and she wanted it over and done with. She was being allowed too much time to be overcome by her fear. The farther he took her away from the others, the worse became her imagined punishment.
They came to another clearing, the ruins of an old tower centered in it. Rolfe rode toward this, stopping by the crumbling stones to set Leonie on her feet. The place was ominous, stark in the moonlight, but not as ominous as her husband dismounting. He removed his helmet and his gauntlets with slow deliberation. He moved toward her and stopped a foot away, his face hard.
“Who told you I was unfaithful?”
She started, disbelieving. The anger was there. His features were harsh with anger, too, his lips in a hard, straight line, but why was he asking such a thing?
“I…do not understand.”
“What did you tell Henry?”
“I—” She gasped, recalling the conversation she had had with the king the day before. Anger rose swiftly. “He had no right to repeat my words!”
“The king’s rights are not under discussion. Who told you I was unfaithful?” Rolfe asked again.
“No one had to tell me,” she retorted. “Do you think I cannot see with my own eyes? Lady Amelia is not your ward. She was never your ward.”
“She means nothing to me,” he said swiftly.
“Is that supposed to set everything right?” Leonie cried. “A man will rut with the serving wench at his neighbor’s house, and she means nothing to him, but that does not mean he is faithful to his wife! He is only more discreet than a man who keeps a mistress under his own roof—for all to see.” She was close to tears.
“Damn me, Leonie, I have not touched another woman since we wed!”
That only stirred her anger. “You touched me! Have you forgotten you would have taken me to bed at Pershwick without knowing who I was?”
“So!” He looked at her hard, his eyes probing. “You still have not forgiven me for that.”
“I mention it to prove the falseness of your words, my lord. You have touched other women. The fact that Lady Amelia was still sharing your chamber when I was brought back to Crewel proves it.”
He came toward her then with a low growl, but Leonie stood her ground. Even when his fingers bit into her arms and he lifted her off the ground so that they were face-to-face, she did not flinch.
“Tell me why it matters to you, madame.” Rolfe’s voice was dangerously calm. “Did you not say that you did not care how many women I bedded?”
“With discretion.”
“I did not realize there were conditions,” he said sardonically. “So you truly do not care?”
A lump rose in her throat. “I do not.”
He set her down and turned away. Leonie bit her lips, despising herself.
“Why do you want me to care?” Her voice turned soft.
“A wife should care,” he said quietly.
“A wife should not be insulted with the presence of her husband’s mistress.”
Rolfe swung back around, his body taut with anger. “There was never any insult intended. I have told you she is no longer my mistress.”
“If you wanted me to believe that, my lord, you would send her away.”
“Do not ask that of me, Leonie.”
She swallowed her pride. “I am asking. If she means nothing to you, then you have no reason to keep her.”
“She does not…want to go,” he said tightly.
He might as well have struck her. “You put her wants above mine?” She waited for him to speak, to promise to send Amelia away. She waited, and when he did not speak, she said, “Then all you will have from me, Rolfe d’Ambert, is my contempt.”
“I will have more than that, madame.” He dragged her to him, his mouth coming down hard on hers, his kiss leaving her weak and shaken. She could not let him overpower her again, not let him bring forth those impossible feelings.
“I hate you,” Leonie whispered, the words sounding less than convincing even to herself.
“Then I will love you despite your hatred.”
He kissed her again, and the traitorous flame leaped within her, drawing her to him despite everything. She fought and fought, and what she was fighting against wasn’t him, but her own desire.
Chapter 36
A MANGY hound sniffing at their feet woke Leonie and Rolfe. Rolfe rose with a roar, pretending to charge the animal. The dog simply stared at him. Leonie giggled, and Rolfe turned on her with an indignant look.
“Perhaps you could just ask him to leave?” she suggested, laughter in her eyes.
“You are welcome to try that,” he said.
She did. The dog simply stared at her. “I think we should let him stay,” she allowed.
Rolfe chuckled. “I think he will do just that.”
He bent down and drew her head up for a light kiss, his eyes smiling warmly into hers. Then he left her to relieve himself, and Leonie lay back on his mantle with a lighthearted sigh. They had spent the night wedged between fallen rocks and what remained of a tower wall. She had slept contented and secure in Rolfe’s arms, all of her anger and hurt washed away by his desire for her.
That was the one thing she could not discount. No matter what else stood between them, Rolfe did want her. His own anger couldn’t even withstand his desire. And knowing that was a sweet balm to Leonie’s pain.
For a while last night he made her believe that he loved her. She gloried in that feeling and all the other feelings he ignited in her. She blushed, recalling Rolfe’s impatience. He undressed with her help, and she with his, and they made love slowly, savoring every moment, and each gentle caress. Never could she have imagined such a terrible day to end the way it had.