snatches together.
She hoped his hearing was not as attuned to the hushed voices used at court as hers. Because the task the two men discussed was the one she’d recently failed completing.
They’d done their part—the two of them had kidnapped Adrienna, preventing her from seeking out Wynnedom. Even though none had known about their marriage at the time, all had been aware that the pair were always together. So, the kidnapping had been deemed necessary to enable Sarah to be found in the Earl’s bed.
But some niggling thought had urged Sarah to see to Adrienna’s release. That was when she’d learned about their marriage.
Sarah wasn’t certain if either Richard or Stefan knew she’d been the one to release Adrienna. Nor was she certain they knew of her marriage to Bronwyn. She wasn’t eager to discover what they did or didn’t know.
She moaned softly, so only her husband could hear, and pressed harder against his chest. It was all she could do not to sigh with relief when William relaxed his arm and stroked gentle circles on her back.
Perhaps Queen Eleanor had been right. After all, William was just a man. And maybe like the other men at court he could be easily swayed.
She’d learned early on that a soft smile, a teasing look, or a brief touch against his chest, or arm, went a long way towards convincing a man to see things her way. Seldom had she been forced to resort to making promises that would never be kept.
When Richard and Stefan walked in front of the alcove, her heart beat so hard she thought it would burst. Silently she prayed they would say nothing to give her away. She feared William finding out that she still spied for the Queen more than she feared discovery by these men.
William tightened his fingers against the back of her head and covered her mouth with his lips. Sarah’s pulse raced even faster. There was nothing gentle about the way he held her close, or teased her lips until they parted as if under their own will.
He kissed her thoroughly, wiping away any thought of the men, or the Queen, from her mind. She could think of nothing except the heat rushing through her veins, melting her resolve to keep herself distant from this man she’d wed.
The only thing that filled her mind, the only thing she could concentrate on, was the sure and certain magic of his mouth moving against hers. And on the heady warmth he traced along her lips.
When he ceased his kisses, Sarah quickly realised that he no longer held her close. Instead, she clung to him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders.
She quickly pulled away. Folding her hands in her lap, she drew in a deep breath, seeking a measure of calm against the storm still raging in her chest. Never had a man’s kiss affected her so.
She corrected her earlier assumption about how easily he could be swayed. The Queen had been wrong—William of Bronwyn was not just another man.
‘I think they are gone.’ His breath raced hot against her ear. He leaned closer, to ask in a heated whisper, ‘Are you sure nothing about that kiss was real?’
Sarah nearly lunged from his lap, suddenly wondering if she’d wed a rogue.
He rose from the bench and brushed by her, taking her hand in his as he passed. ‘Come, we need to join Hugh and Lady Adrienna, then leave this court.’
Still uncertain how he had so easily stolen her wits, Sarah wordlessly led him to the chamber.
Chapter Three
Daylight barely filtered through the denseness of the trees when William’s senses alerted him to danger. A quick, but thorough, study of the woods and bramble surrounding them gave no clue to the unease pricking at him. He’d long ago learned to depend on his gut reactions, and while he saw nothing, he was certain they were being followed.
After visually checking on Hugh and Adrienna riding a short distance ahead of them, he glanced across the path at his wife. Her features were as strained as they’d been when leaving Eleanor’s castle. William doubted if her unease was caused by anything more than outrage at being forced to marry him, and her unwitting response to his kisses.
A response that promised him more than words ever could.
He’d heard the rumours about Sarah being the Queen’s whore. How could he not? They were bandied about the court so often that it would have been impossible to miss them.
He hadn’t demanded this marriage out of any feelings he had for the woman. He’d done so to offer her protection and to gain a wife for his keep.
It seemed a good choice for all concerned. She would be spared the horrors of a cell, or the danger of life alone outside the court. And he would have the benefit of a wife without any emotional attachment. In addition he’d gain an experienced woman in his bed, not a simpering, frightened virgin.
Perhaps the appearance of Langsford and Arnyll had been a blessing. It had given him the opportunity to witness Sarah at work firsthand, instead of watching from afar.
He’d heard the men’s voices as they had neared the alcove. Although he had been unable to hear their words, Sarah’s reaction made him aware that she had heard them. At first, her response to his closeness had been tentative.
But the nearer the men had come to the alcove, the louder their voices had become, the more passionate she had acted. For some reason, Sarah had felt it necessary to make certain he hadn’t heard what the men had been saying.
He wasn’t some court dandy that she could ply with her wiles in an attempt to distract him. While knowing that Sarah had secrets so dire she needed to keep them from him did not please him in the least, it had been interesting—near amusing—to discover that turning the tables served to fluster her.
‘What is wrong?’
Sarah’s question startled him out of his musings. ‘Nothing.’
‘Ah, so not only are you thick-headed, you lie, too.’
Certain he couldn’t have heard her correctly, he looked at her, asking, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I did not live this long without learning to read a person’s expressions.’ She studied him intently, as if looking for something, and then explained, ‘Your frown, the stiffening of your body, and your sudden interest in our surroundings—all tell me that something is wrong.’
‘It’s nothing that concerns you.’
Sarah reached up and flicked a braid over her shoulder. ‘No, of course not.’ She paused to smile and flutter her eyelashes before adding, ‘I am but a simple woman with not a care in the world, nor a useful thought in my head.’
They weren’t in the castle; they were no longer at court. There was no need for her to put on such airs, or take such a snappish tone with him.
William was certain there were two ways to get her to drop her play acting—seduction or an insult. At the moment, seduction would be rather difficult. He stared hard at her and said, ‘Simple woman? No. I am guessing you have all the makings of a shrew.’
Instead of flinching away in shame, or becoming angry, as he had hoped, Sarah’s laughter rang
