Bedded By The Warrior. Denise Lynn

Bedded By The Warrior - Denise Lynn


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      Maybe their hasty exit from Eleanor’s court, combined with his even hastier marriage, had made his senses overwrought. His weapons were at hand, and Hugh was also well armed. So, for now, William would set aside his worry.

      For a more pleasurable distraction, he concentrated once again on his wife. The women in the church were justified in their jealousy. Despite a crooked nose and a thin scar cutting across one eyebrow, Sarah was a vision of beauty.

      Besides her blonde hair, the first thing one noticed when looking at her was the vivid blueness of her eyes against the unblemished paleness of her face.

      He briefly wondered how many men had wished to drown in those eyes. As his attention retraced her nose and the scar, he realised that at least one man had not wished to lose himself in her gaze. Had that been the reason for her sudden fear of him?

      ‘What are you looking at now?’

      ‘You.’

      ‘Why?’ She swiped a hand across her cheek. ‘Is something amiss?’

      ‘No, everything is in place. I was just admiring your beauty.’

      Sarah’s eyes widened before she schooled her features into a mask of contempt, then turned her face away. The forced look didn’t bother him. He’d witnessed her doing the same thing to others at Eleanor’s court. While they may have been put off by her contemptuous expression and left her alone, he knew exactly what she was doing and wouldn’t be intimidated quite so easily.

      ‘I cannot believe that none have commented on the fairness of your features.’

      ‘Aye, they have. When they either wanted something, or were so far gone in their wine that they knew not what they were saying.’

      ‘I know exactly what I am saying, and I already possess all I desire.’

      ‘And what is that?’

      ‘You.’

      At his answer Sarah swung around to face him. ‘Me?’ Shock fired her cheeks before she shook her head in disbelief. ‘We just wed, and yet already you count me as one of your possessions?’

      William cringed at the idea. He knew what being a possession entailed. ‘That is not what I meant.’

      ‘But isn’t that what a wife is?’ Her voice rose, and she paused to swallow hard before adding, ‘Just another item to add to your assets?’

      ‘My assets?’ He shook his head at the absurd statement. His possessions amounted to his weapons, the armour on his back, the horse beneath him, and the promise of gold coin and a keep from King Henry. The weapons and armour he could always count on. The promise, however, was nothing more than words and counted for little. He’d not yet seen the gold, or the keep.

      He kept a tight rein on his voice as he answered, ‘Oh, aye, Lady Sarah, that is all a wife is to me. Simply another possession. One to use when, and how, I see fit.’

      A red haze clouded her vision. Sarah parted her lips to spew curses at him. Just then she caught sight of a glint of humour in his eyes, and she knew instantly that he’d baited her. She closed her mouth, giving him her fiercest scowl and watched in disbelief as he burst into laughter.

      When his mirth calmed, she said, ‘You did that on purpose.’

      He cocked an eyebrow at her, and asked, ‘Me?’

      ‘Yes, you, William of Bronwyn.’

      ‘Perhaps I did. But teasing you is a far cry from keeping secrets from your husband.’ He reached over and caught her chin before she could turn away. ‘Would you not agree, Sarah of Bronwyn?’

      She wanted desperately to close her eyes. To shield herself from the accusation and distrust in his unwavering stare. But to do so would give proof to her guilt. She couldn’t do that. Not yet.

      The pouch Lady Elise had delivered from the Queen contained more than a measure of gold. A brief missive had been included. One that only reconfirmed the importance of gaining the information Queen Eleanor wanted.

      Sarah willed her eyes to stay open and her breathing to remain calm. It would not be the first time she’d been forced to lie; she could only pray it would be the last time.

      For the moment, instead of lying, she thought it best to feign dull-wits. ‘Do I not agree with what?’ She pulled free of his hold. ‘Are you accusing me of something?’

      ‘You were so afraid I might have overheard Langsford and Arnyll that you thought to distract me with your charms. A dangerous distraction considering you don’t know me well enough to feel that safe in my arms. You can’t deny it.’

      The man was far too quick-witted. Sarah realised that staying one step ahead of him was going to prove difficult at best. Eventually, if she did not keep her wits about her, he would discover her guise of whore was nothing more than a fabrication.

      She didn’t fear that overmuch, because she doubted if William would be offended to discover his wife was not a harlot. But instinct warned her his reaction would be far from accepting if he learned she continued working for the Queen. Forcing an affronted tone to her voice, she asked, ‘Deny what?’

      ‘That you are keeping secrets from me.’

      ‘I can, and do, deny it. What could I possibly gain from doing so?’

      ‘I know not. I’m waiting for you to tell me.’ He leaned back in his saddle as if content to wait all day for her answer.

      He’d wait longer than that. Sarah wasn’t about to tell him anything. She stared directly between her horse’s ears and set her jaw.

      William chuckled softly. ‘You can ignore me now, Sarah. But some night in the future, when it’s dark…’ he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers ‘…after the fire has burned low…’ he deepened his voice to a spine-tingling timbre ‘…and we’re wrapped in nothing but each other…’ William leaned across the distance separating them to promise ‘…you will tell me.’

      Chapter Four

      The campfire crackled, providing light and warmth in the small clearing where they’d settled for the night. After their weeks at court, William and the Earl had decided to spend the night some place quiet, and less confining. So, they’d made camp just off the side of the road instead of seeking shelter in the next town.

      Stiff from hours on the back of a horse, Sarah would have preferred the softness of a bed. But she’d no wish to argue something so minor. Instead, a blanket on the hard ground would have to do.

      Seated on a log facing the fire, she stretched her legs and savoured the warmth. Without appearing too interested, Sarah returned her attention to the men’s conversation about Arnyll.

      Earl Hugh snapped a dead tree limb, and then tossed it on to the flames. ‘I am surprised you did not slay him in his tracks.’

      William shrugged. ‘I didn’t think that would much please the Queen.’

      ‘True.’ Hugh laughed softly.

      Adrienna, seated on the log next to her, leaned over to ask, ‘Remember Lady Waltrop’s reaction upon discovering that old man’s body in the Great Hall?’

      Even though the man’s unexpected demise had been far from humorous, Sarah laughed at the memory. ‘Queen Eleanor thought Lady Waltrop would perish of shock.’

      Adrienna’s burst of laughter sent Sarah into another bout of giggles. When she caught her breath, she admitted, ‘I fear I would have been more than surprised myself had I been the one to find the man slumped in the corner staring at me over my morning repast.’

      Hugh asked, ‘How did he die?’

      ‘No one knows.’ Sarah explained further. ‘He was far beyond his prime and there were no signs of any injury.’

      ‘I


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