Knight of Her Heart (Conquering the Heart) (30 page)

Everything in him screamed in denial. He had to be wrong. It couldn’t be. And yet he knew in that second he was right. The final piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.

“Rowan?”

Dear God! He felt physically ill as he struggled to breathe. He had to get away from her—couldn’t bear her touch.

Why?
Why did it have to be Lisette?

“Rowan? What’s wrong? Say something!”

Bile burned his throat. Suddenly ’twas as though he suffocated. He pushed himself up, uncaring that the forcefulness of his movement sent Lisette tumbling off him, off the bed and onto the floor.

“Rowan?” There was panic in her voice now, consternation set deep into every one of her features. Yet even as he regarded her, he saw a different person—a person he’d never come face to face with. A person he knew but didn’t know.

There was nothing he could do for a few moments but stare at her in mute silence as he absorbed her betrayal. Staggering a few steps backwards as though he’d been struck by an opponent’s blade, he needed to put more distance between them. Not only did he want to get away from her, from this whole shocking truth, but the tiny part of his brain that could still think with any sanity realised he didn’t trust himself not to lash out at her. He was like a wounded, cornered animal and the urge to strike out at her was paramount.

“I know,” he finally managed to scrape out. Speaking the words aloud broke him out of his trance.

Her hands moved in helpless confusion. “I don’t understand. What do you know?”

A hot tide of rage seeped through him. It started at his extremities and swept through him, replacing the cold, numbing shock of his discovery. Right on the heels of anger came the taste of bitter betrayal.

This realisation, just when he was letting his guard down, shook him with violent intensity. Right at the point he’d acknowledged to her, and to himself, that he respected her and was beginning to trust her, he’d learned—yet again—that he could not afford to trust. Not her. Not anybody.

The tragedy was that despite having warned himself about keeping a distance from this woman, he’d started to care too deeply about her. The desperation with which he wanted to be with her had made him regret his oath of duty to his king. Everything in him had resented that ’twas necessary for him to part with her on the morrow. That he’d trusted her and started to let her into his heart made the realisation of her guilt all the harder to deal with.

Had she known his identity all along and played him for a fool?

The air in the room was toxic. Gathering up his clothes he dressed as quickly as he could.

***

Lisette stood up slowly and watched her husband dress. Each of his movements was stiff with an anger she didn’t understand. Had she been wrong to take the initiative in their love-making? One moment he’d been aroused by her and she’d been empowered by his responses—prepared to be bold and daring. The next instant he’d thrust her away from him as though she was diseased. He’d pushed her with a violence she wouldn’t have believed him capable of.

Now he stared at her, his rage evident in the taut outline of every muscle of his body, in the hostile, searing intensity of his gaze, and in the tightness of his lips and jaw. His hands clenched at his sides as though he wanted to strike something.

What could she have done that was so terribly wrong? Had it been wrong to take the initiative in their lovemaking? Is that what had cast him into this black mood?

’Twas only the knowledge that Rowan was an honourable knight who’d shown naught else but infinite care and tenderness to her, that allowed her to calm herself in the force of his inexplicable and sudden temper.

Picking up her shift he threw it to her. “Cover yourself, woman.”

“Pray, my lord, tell me what is wrong. What did I do that caused such offence?” She moved toward him and reached out a hand in an attempt to re-establish a connection with him.

The hostile condemnation in his expression made her stall and lower her hand.

“Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me,” he rasped.

She flinched at the bitter rejection in his words. The man who had held her close and told her how much he would miss her had completely vanished. Hastily she donned her shift, needing to shield herself with some form of protective barrier as she faced a man who was now a stranger to her.

“Have you known all along?” he grated.

Her head pulled back slightly as she frowned at him in incomprehension. Had he taken leave of his senses?

“Rowan—” She broke off as he took a step toward her and loomed over her, his whole demeanour menacing. His fingers bit into the flesh of each of her upper arms, only releasing their grip slightly as she winced.

“Did—you—know?” he demanded.

Abruptly he released her.

She crossed her arms in front of her, her hands rubbing at the flesh made tender by his grasp. Confusion and anxiety flooded through her at his aggressive behaviour. “I have no idea of what you are speaking.”

“Tell me who you lay with, Lisette.”

Her gasp was shocked. After all they had shared since he had learnt of her betrayal, they were back to this?

“Tell me his name.”

“Nay.” The word was barely audible. Shame engulfed her once again as she relived her sin, making it impossible for her to meet his gaze.

“Why?” The single syllable was bitten out with such harsh challenge that she found herself edging away from his wrath. “You can’t tell me his name, can you?’ he persisted. “You don’t even know who you lay with, whose seed you milked to father the child you carry.”

Stifling the urge to sob, she raised her head. She knew her anguish must be revealed in her expression and hoped it would make him stop this irrational behaviour. “Rowan, I beseech you, I—”

“The truth, Lisette.” Each feature was hard. Unyielding. There was no sign of her generous, tender lover. Faced with the battle-hardened king’s warrior she understood the terror his enemies must realise before he struck them down.

Tears scalded her eyes before they ran down her cheeks. “Nay. I do not know his name.”

“But John Cartwright and Frederick Crofter know.”

A new panic gripped her. How had Rowan learnt of the involvement of her two loyal servants? Despite her turmoil, she frowned and shook her head in denial. “Nay, they do not. He was also a stranger to them.” ’Twas a relief that she was able to speak the truth. Whatever Rowan had discovered about her mission to become impregnated, she alone bore the responsibility and the guilt.

“A stranger.” His lips were even tighter, pressing into a firm, flat line of fury. “Yet you led me to believe the man was a willing participant in your scheme.”

He spoke the truth. She had deliberately misled him, for how would she have explained the entire wickedness of her scheme otherwise? “I didn’t say—”

“Nay. You did not.” His tone, and the way he clipped each word, communicated his contempt. “’Twas not what you said but what you didn’t say that makes me sick to the stomach, for
I know
the identity of the man you
held against his will
and
violated
.”

Her head snapped back a little and her mouth dropped open in shock and denial. “You
know
him?”

“Aye.” The word shot out like a blast from a cannon and its impact was just as devastating.

If Rowan knew the father of her child, would that make a difference to his acceptance of the babe as his own? Wait. How could he possibly know the identity of the man when she didn’t know him herself?

“You can’t know. I don’t...”

“You don’t know because the man you violated was nameless and faceless to you.” He raised an accusing finger toward her. “You cared naught for his predicament, naught for his angst. All he represented to you was a cock you could ride so you could accomplish—”

She held up a hand in protest. “Nay! Do not be so crude! ’Twas not like that.”

“Really? You didn’t have Crofter and Cartwright drug him, capture him and hold him prisoner? He didn’t have his head in a sack? Wasn’t bound to a pallet day after interminable day for your pleasure?”

She swayed a little on her feet. How had he learned about what she had done in such detail?

Ignoring the question that hammered at her brain she rushed on, seeking to justify her actions, imploring him to understand. “There was no pleasure for me. ’Twas something I simply had to do. I explained that to you.”

A sound of scorned disbelief passed through his lips. “And you deliberately made me think you had enlisted the assistance of a willing man.”

“I know ’twas wrong,” she argued. “I have repeatedly repented, but I had no choice. I did it to save my life and Genevieve’s.” Damn the man! Didn’t he understand what she had been facing? Why must he dredge all this up this eve before he left for Henry’s court? “I have committed my sin and although I repent daily, I cannot change what is done. What difference does it make who the man was? What does it matter after all this time whether he was willing or not?”

A tide of red stained his neck and face. “Your behaviour—”

“The man was unharmed,” she insisted. “’Twas only for a few days, and he was richly compensated.”

“
Unharmed
? Richly compensated?” His voice had risen and echoed off the wall of their chamber. He stared at her in angry disbelief. “You think any man wants to be taken prisoner? You think any man wants to lie
bound
and
powerless
while an unknown woman rides him?”

“He found pleasure in his release!”

“By the rood, woman!” Rowan swung away from her, let out a growl of pure frustration and pounded his fist against a wall before pivoting back to her. “Your prisoner had no idea what would happen next. No idea how long he would be held captive. No knowledge whether he would be released or whether he would be tortured, killed or maimed.”

“He was well cared for, Rowan, and ’twas only for a couple of days. I did assure him he would come to no harm and he did receive silver as compensation. I am certain that was rich recompense for a peasant farmer.” She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. The fabric of her shift started to prickle around her neck as she was subjected to further heated loathing from him.

“You know little of a man’s pride if you believe that to be true.”

“I know that it savages a man’s pride if he can’t put food on the table for his family. With the silver coin I gave him, he can take pride in being able to provide for his family. A farmer—” She broke off mid-sentence. Each of her breaths was fast and shallow. Part of her began to panic at the look of barely suppressed, violent frustration she saw in her husband’s face. His features were set so hard, as though he was barely able to control himself from beating her. “Rowan, the farmer—”

His control snapped. “My God, Lisette!” In two long strides he stood in front of her, grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a none-too-gentle shake. “The man was—
not
—a—farmer,” he declared through clenched teeth.

What?

She gave a slight shake of her head. “You’re mistaken.” How could Rowan argue this with her? “Who was he? How can you know so much about this?”

He relaxed his grip on her shoulders, let his hands fall to his sides, and then stepped away. Every facial feature showed strain. His jaw was still clenched tight. The effort it cost him to rein in his anger was visible, but she still couldn’t make sense of what point he tried to make. He couldn’t possibly know the man...

“John and Frederick,” she said with sudden insight. Had they in some way betrayed her? “I can’t believe they confided in you, but they can attest that the man was a peasant.”

“Your servants made no confessions, although their reactions made me suspicious.”

“Their reactions?”

“Their images teased my memory.” Each word was taut. “This afternoon in my presence they appeared to recognise me and then grow scared, yet they denied having met me.”

Scared? Why would they be scared of Rowan? “They would never have met you.” “This eve when I observed them drinking ale in the great hall, I was certain I had seen them drinking somewhere else. I dismissed the thought thinking ’twas an impossibility. Now I know my memory serves me true. I saw them at an inn while I was in Southampton.”

Everything in her tensed. She could not stop the wave of guilt that washed through her again. “Southampton?” The word emerged as a breathy squeak.

“Aye, Lisette.” There was bitter contempt back in each syllable.

Oh. Dear Lord
. He must have been at the inn the night. “You...you were there when...they took the f-farmer? The farmer told you later what had happened?”

“I was there, but I have already told you ’twas no farmer they took. ’Twas merely a man who was dressed in peasant garb because he needed to keep his identity a secret.”

“You truly know this man?” she whispered.

Silence stretched between them. She could not help thinking that ’twas the calm before the storm as Rowan’s features were as dark as thunder clouds and lightning seemed to flash from his eyes as he regarded her.

Finally he spoke. “
I
was the man your servants drugged.
I
was the one they bound and blindfolded.” His lip curled at her in disgust. “
I
was the nameless, faceless man whose seed you harvested in your mission to deceive Collins.”

She staggered backward. “Nay. It cannot be.” The room began to spin around her and she grabbed hold of the edge of a chair for support.

“’Twas only just now, when you...” He broke off and gestured toward the bed. “’Twas just as it had been that first eve—your weight falling heavily upon me...your instant apology. ’Twas in that second that I knew.”

She was horrified as she remembered her inexpert attempt to mount him that first night. “’Tis true,” she gasped and sank into the chair, covering her head with her hands in shame.

“In my wildest imaginings I did not suspect that I was married to the woman I had sworn to hunt down and punish.”

Her head jerked up. “Punish?”