Page 26 of His Betrothed
Thatcertainly distracted him, and he straightened away from her, letting Roselyn come up on her knees.
The sunlight streamed in the open window,almost blinding her, but Thornton sat behind it, in the shadows of the cottage, dark, remote. He could havehurt her as she lay beneath him on the floor, but never once did she think he would use violence. Was she being foolish?
He finally met her gaze. “I handled our betrothal the way I thought best,” he said in a bitter voice.
But you hurt me, she wanted to cry. How could he do that to a young girl who would have accepted any kindness, when she had known so little?
“Well, your handling of our betrothalmade sure you had no bride,” she said, “so I guess you succeeded.”
“You had your lover all ready, did you not? And I can only imagine what lure you used.”
She took an angry breath to reply, but he continued before she could.
“But none of it worked as you planned. So Grant had to be nursed before he died, did he? You bargained for a malleable husband and wealth, not this life,” he said, glancingaround her cottage with obvious sarcasm. “Were all your choices still worththis? How will you feel when I go to court to break this betrothal by naming you an adulterer?”
“An adulterer! I was married.”
“And we know how legal that was. This might be our only chance to be free of one another. Don’t think I won’t do it out of some misguided notion of pity.”
Roselyn stood up, her fists clenchedat her sides. “I am sick of your snide comments and your threats. I have saved your life, and instead of gratitude, I get bitter sarcasm. When are you going to let go of the past? Don’t you think I have paid enough for what I did to you? My family has cast me out; I work for every morsel I put in my mouth. I am done paying, Thornton. Go ahead and slur my name at court if that makes you feel better.It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already gone through.”
Without offering to help him up, she left a loaf of bread and piece of cheese wrapped in cloth on the table, poured him a mug of cider, then left to make her delivery to Wakesfield Manor. She muttered angrily to herself as she marched down the sunlit path, knowing that constant argument was not the way to discover the truth of his loyalties.
Roselyn knew that she eventually had to go back to the cottage. Daylight was almost gone, yet still she worked in her bake house by candlelight, preparing the pies ordered by the village tavern.
She couldn’t forget how Thornton had looked at her bosom, as if she should freely give herself to him to repay her debt. Sheshould be disgusted, revolted—but instead she remembered the glimmer ofhurt in his eyes.
Suddenly, she heard a noise behind her, and before she could even turn around, a filthy hand covered her mouth.
