Page 31 of Almost a Bride
“Who else?”
“You didn’t want to marry me, either!”
“Perhaps not, but after the contract was signed, I was committed.”
“Thornton, your scandalous behavior proves to one and all that I was justified in not marrying you—and it began long before you met me.”
He leaned against her, suddenly reminding her that she was alone with him on a deserted cliff in the darkness.
And no one knew where she was.
“Rationalize your own behavior all you’d like, Lady Roselyn, but we both know who was doing his family duty, and who was selfishly destroying lives.”
She elbowed him in the stomach, and with a grunt he straightened. “I haven’t harmed my family,” she said, “and though it has taken me time, I’ve found my own peace. Can you say the same for yourself?”
She tapped her heels into Angel’s sides, and let the horse’s hooves drown out anything else he might want to say. At the cottage he dismounted without a word, and she continued on to the Wakesfield stables, walking the last few hundred yards.
After unsaddling Angel, she rubbed the horse down, then spent a moment petting her, not knowing when she’d get the chance again. After a last look around to make sure everything was as she found it, she left the stables for home.
~oOo~
Francis Heywood arose before dawn, certain he’d heard someone near the stables. After he dressed, he crept outside in time to see Lady Roselyn returning Angel. Instead of confronting her, he hesitated. She never rode the horse, no matter how far her business took her.
So why had she borrowed Angel in the middle of the night? Why had she been acting so distant? Whatever secrets she was keeping, he wanted only to help her. But how could he help if she wouldn’t confide in him?
Chapter 10
Spencer awoke at dawn, having slept poorly. He couldn’t stop thinking of the rumors Roselyn had hinted at. He’d been gone from England well over a year, and his brother was supposed to be taking care of everything.
What was being said about him in London, and how could he pry for more information without sounding suspicious?
He heard the wood creak above as she dressed, and he cut another mark in the floor. Eleven days left.
She descended the ladder, giving a start as she looked at him. “You’re not usually awake,” she murmured, turning away.
“I couldn’t sleep well.”
She hesitated, glancing toward the door he’d barricaded with the cupboard. “Neither could I.”
He waited to be overwhelmed by his usual anger toward her, but couldn’t summon it as easily. She brought him bread and cider before he could come to the table, and he pushed himself to a sitting position.
She straightened, and in the fire light he saw a shadow on her neck that disturbed him. “Come here,” he said, frowning.
She seemed too tired to protest as she knelt down. “Is something wrong with the food?”
He ignored her words, reaching out to lift her chin, making himself ignore the softness of her skin. She inhaled swiftly, but didn’t pull away. Spencer saw faint bruises around her throat, the kind that could come only from a man’s hands.
“The Spaniard tried to strangle you,” he said, as a wave of anger swept through him.
She tried to pull away, but he grasped her arm and held her near. He brushed the back of his finger against a bruise and she flinched, the pulse beating at the hollow of her throat. Her skin was translucent, delicate.
“Are you going to finish the deed for him?” she asked.
“Of course not!” He let her go, not quite certain what he’d meant to do.
She stood up and he took a quick gulp of cider, unable to meet her eyes. For a moment he’d felt fiercely protective, outraged that someone had dared to touch…whom? His nurse? His betrothed? What was Roselyn to him now that he should feel such emotion?
He didn’t like it, but seeing the wounds she’d suffered because of him made things…different.
