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John couldn’t protest. He wanted Elizabeth safe, and that meant staying with him, if he could convince her. But to Philip, he said, “I cannot see farther than tonight. Where will you go?”
“I’ll sleep in the great hall. I’ve slept in worse places, as you know.”
“You have my gratitude.”
Philip laughed and shook his head. “Maybe I’ll request my own chamber from the captain of the guard. I am his assistant and clerk.”
Not for the first time, John found himself wishing that he were the one without the “broken” leg. He missed the excitement of training, of pitting his skills against a worthy opponent. Sometimes he just wished he could challenge Bannaster and be done with it. But of course the king might have a problem with that…
And Elizabeth as well. She wanted Alderley to be the most important thing in their lives. And it was, for now. What would happen when everything was peaceful and placid and…the same, day in and day out?
Focusing on Philip again, John said, “And has your position among the soldiers helped us in any way?”
“Someday, perhaps. But right now, all it has told me is that as in any troop of soldiers, there are mostly good men just doing their duty, and there are a few bad men who enjoy making trouble.”
“Did you see Alderley’s army?”
Philip shook his head. “Parker told me that they are roughly one hundred strong. If you have them on your side, you should be able to retake the castle.”
“If I have them on my side. And as for taking the castle, I might have to do it without the lady’s permission. I’m not sure my wedding night will be a happy one. But I am grateful for your help.”
Philip walked to the door. “And what else would I be doing were I not here? Selling my sword arm to the highest bidder?”
“Instead you lent it to me for free,” John said.
Philip rolled his eyes, saluted a goodnight, and left the chamber. And John continued pacing. He knew that Elizabeth would probably linger with her lady’s maid, telling her what had transpired. But it seemed an abnormally long time before he heard a soft knock on the door. He threw it open and found her standing there alone.
“You promised me you would be escorted,” he said, pulling her inside and closing the door behind her.
“I was, but I sent Adalia away just now. John, Bannaster cannot even be awake, so inebriated was he.”
He closed his eyes to control his temper. “Elizabeth, the soldiers are all his. He could have you summoned before him with just a word. I am bothered by how little you care for yourself. From now on, you are sleeping here, where I can protect you.”
He was ready for her protest, but instead she squared her shoulders. “That works well with my plan.”
“Plan?” he echoed suspiciously.
“I told you that I would think of one, and I have.” She swallowed and met his gaze gravely.
To his surprise, she unwrapped her wimple and tossed it onto a table. Her unbound hair spilled down around her shoulders and breasts. Pulling it over one shoulder, she reached behind her neck and began loosening the laces of her gown.
The dark place deep inside him, where he forced his desire into check, now began to unfurl and spread its heat through him.
“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely, unable to stop himself from watching the bodice of her gown begin to sag.
“I can no longer risk remaining a virgin,” she said impassively. “You must take me to bed, so Bannaster won’t be a threat.”
He had thought she would need comfort this night from the fright of Bannaster’s attack, but she was too strong for that. And with her offer, she was going to prove him the weakest of men, for he could not imagine refusing her.
He felt like a statue, so unable to move was he. With not a trace of emotion on her face, she stepped out of her gown, to reveal her long-sleeved, linen smock, gathered high about her neck. She sat down on a stool to remove her shoes and stockings. He swallowed as he glimpsed the smooth slopes of her legs when she removed her garters. Then she walked to his bed and climbed in, pulling the coverlet to her waist, but leaving an edge turned down invitingly.
For him.
A part of him wanted to tear off all his clothing and join her, showing her just how much passion he would bring to their marriage. He could never imagine tiring of her, of her spirit and courage, and even her need to lead him. He would do whatever she told him to do—in bed. And she would finally have proof of how much she really wanted him. No more of her foolish wish for a distant, romantic courtship.
His gaze traveled from the hint of her breasts within the delicate smock, up her throat—to her pale face. Suddenly her brown eyes seemed frightened, vulnerable, but only for a moment, and then determination filled them once again.
How could he begin the intimacy of their marriage with the future bride feeling forced, capitulating only as a last resort?
