.

wasn’t surprised when Rosamund stood up from the bed and glared at him. ‘Get out.’ Fury burned upon her reddened cheeks. ‘I will not let you harm my husband.’

      She looked like an avenging soldier, ready to gut him if he dared to lay a hand on Alan. Her determination only provoked his interest, for her green eyes seethed with anger and her lips tightened. Her hand rested upon her eating knife, and he didn’t doubt she would use it if necessary.

      ‘Calm yourself, my dear,’ Alan intervened. ‘If de Laurent intended to kill me, he wouldn’t have told me this first. He could have done so already, and neither of us is strong enough to stop him.’

      ‘Indeed.’ But Warrick’s attention was fixed upon Rosamund. ‘Do you intend to stab me with that blade?’

      ‘I might.’

      He didn’t miss the fury on her face. Rosamund might appear to be a soft, demure lady, but she had a spine of steel.

      ‘I presume you have no intention of murdering me in my bed, de Laurent?’ Alan mused softly.

      ‘No. But I thought I should come and warn you of your brother’s intent. He is no friend to you.’

      ‘I am aware of this.’ Alan’s expression turned grim. ‘Although he has his own property at Northleigh, Owen has fallen deeply into debt. I suspect the vultures are circling him for repayment, even now. He has coveted my lands and castle since our father died four years ago. I will do all that I can to prevent him from inheriting Pevensham.’

      His voice took on a different tone and strangely, Rosamund took a step away from her husband’s bedside. She looked pained at what he was about to say, as if she wanted to shrink back and retreat within the walls.

      ‘You had another reason for summoning me here, didn’t you?’ Warrick predicted. He kept his gaze fixed upon Rosamund, knowing that she held the answers.

      Alan gave a nod. ‘It is a most...unusual request. But one that is necessary to protect my wife and my lands.’ He gestured towards the chamber walls as if they were not there. ‘If you agree, then all of this would belong to you.’

      Lord Pevensham’s offer made little sense. Warrick was no blood relative, nor was there any means of him inheriting a place like Pevensham.

      ‘It’s not possible,’ he said. But his gaze passed over Alan and then Rosamund as he wondered what the pair of them had plotted.

      ‘You understand why I do not wish for my brother to inherit,’ Alan continued. ‘He is a cruel man who would threaten my serfs, bring my estates to the brink of destruction, and harm my wife. I have worked all my life, alongside my father, to make Pevensham prosperous.’ The sincerity upon the man’s face made it clear that de Courcy was indeed the sort of lord who wanted to protect his people. ‘When I am gone, I can arrange to give Pevensham into your hands, with Rosamund at your side.’

      The offer struck him speechless. Why would Alan de Courcy consider such a thing? They were virtually strangers. It made no sense at all.

      ‘If I were to marry Rosamund, Pevensham still would not be mine,’ he argued. ‘She might have a dower portion, but—’

      ‘You would govern Pevensham until her son comes of age,’ Alan said quietly. ‘And you would live here as his guardian.’

      ‘But she could bear a daughter,’ he pointed out. ‘What would happen then?’

      Alan’s expression turned cool. ‘I leave that in God’s hands. For now, Rosamund is not yet with child. That is our first priority.’

      The revelation confused him. ‘But you said it was your hope that she would bear a son. Is she not already—?’

      ‘Not yet,’ Alan said. From the narrowed gaze upon the baron’s face, Warrick could not understand what this conversation was about. Was he intending to have Warrick command the forces of Pevensham until Rosamund became pregnant?

      Alan hesitated, and Warrick noticed that Rosamund had gone pale, her eyes downcast. ‘I want you to give her a child.’

      The words stunned him. How could any man ever contemplate an arrangement like this?

      The baron’s voice was quiet, filled with reluctance. ‘If you agree to this, Rosamund will share your bed until she conceives. And your son will inherit Pevensham under the pretence of my name.’

      * * *

      Rosamund expected Warrick to refuse the proposal and leave Alan’s bedchamber. Instead, his silence terrified her. Dear God, did this mean he was considering it? He—he couldn’t. Not after all that had happened between them.

      She stared down at her hands, praying for him to deny the request. But she felt the intensity of his stare upon her and the unspoken question.

      When at last she looked at him, his blue eyes held a flare of desire. He was watching her, and his gaze moved down her body. ‘You knew of this proposition, Rosamund?’

      What was there to say? That she understood her husband’s desire for a child and his willingness to sacrifice everything to save Pevensham? She couldn’t bring herself to speak, but nodded. Every part of her wanted to protest, for this was a bargain she had never desired.

      She had voiced her agreement to her husband, though it had never been her choice. Alan had been relieved at her assent, and she had seen a visible change in him, like a man who was confident that all would be well. And perhaps that was what he needed—reassurance that after he was gone, someone would take care of her.

      Warrick regarded her with an unreadable expression. ‘I would like to speak alone with Rosamund.’

      No. She didn’t want that at all. She’d rather walk barefoot across shards of broken glass than answer the questions he would pose.

      But Alan had no such qualms. ‘Of course.’ He appeared eager to allow it, almost glad that Warrick had not made an outright refusal.

      She sent her husband a pleading look, which he ignored, nodding for her to follow Warrick outside the bedchamber.

      She gritted her teeth and obeyed. It occurred to her that she could be truthful with Warrick, making him understand why she had gone along with Alan’s plan. Then, at least, he would know not to hold any expectations.

      He continued walking down the hallway until she led him into the solar. His powerful stride revealed his impatience, and she sensed that he had a great deal to say to her.

      Rosamund dismissed her maid, Berta, who was inside, and afterwards, Warrick closed the door behind him. He studied her for a moment, and then said, ‘Was this your idea, Rosamund? Do you want a child that badly?’

      Her frustration roared back. How could he possibly believe such a thing? ‘No, not at all.’ She took a deep breath, trying to force away her anger and calm herself. ‘I understand what Alan wants. Pevensham means everything to him. Even more than me.’ She couldn’t quite hide the bitterness in her voice. ‘He thinks a child will save his estate from Owen. But it will not happen.’

      Warrick studied her a moment, and then his gaze passed over her body. ‘Have you ever conceived a child before?’

      His question caught her unawares, and she clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. This was not a question she wanted to face, especially from him. The shadow of grief had never left her heart, and she had wanted to keep that part of her buried, along with her baby.

      She didn’t want to tell him anything at all. If she spoke a single word, her fragile control would shatter. But she feared he would continue to demand answers, and she couldn’t bear that. Instead, she gathered her composure and tried to hide the gleam of tears. ‘I had a stillborn babe once.’

      She was grateful when he didn’t press her for more. He rested his hand upon her shoulder and offered, ‘I am sorry for your loss.’

      The kindness undid her, and she let the tears fall in silence. Warrick moved his hand