Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight

‘Ah,’ he echoed the exclamation more calmly. His face was right beside hers, their noses only a couple of inches apart, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. ‘Apparently it’s been used a few times before.’

‘Just a few?’ She tried to laugh, but she felt oddly breathless with him so close.

‘I’m sorry, Constance. I’m used to places like this, but I should have considered...’

‘It’s all right. Like you said, there weren’t many other options.’

‘I can sleep on the floor.’

‘Don’t be silly!’ She forgot where they were for a moment, grabbing hold of his sleeve to stop him from rolling away and feeling the muscles of his arm stiffen beneath. For some reason, she didn’t want him to go. ‘I can’t let you do that. And it’s not that bad. It probably just needs some getting used to.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘Yes.’ She sought for a reason that she could explain. ‘I’ll feel safer with you here.’

‘You’re perfectly safe, Constance.’ He pushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek and tucked it carefully behind her ear. ‘You have my word.’

‘Thank you. Matthew?’ She licked her lips, hesitating over her next question.

‘Yes?’

‘What did you say to those men downstairs?’

‘Not much.’

‘You must have done something.’

‘I did. Do something, that is. Only there weren’t many words involved, just enough to make myself clear.’

‘But you didn’t...hurt anyone?’

‘Not permanently.’

‘Matthew! What if they try to get some kind of revenge while we’re asleep?’

‘They won’t.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Because I’ve made sure they all understand the consequences if anyone so much as touches that curtain.’ He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Now trust me and get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere and I won’t let anyone hurt you.’

She caught her breath as his gaze drifted over her face, lingering briefly but unmistakably on her mouth. His gaze felt very intense all of a sudden, the pupils of his eyes looking larger and blacker in the almost darkness, making her stomach clench and the rest of her body start humming. The muscles of his arm flexed beneath her fingertips and she pulled her hand away self-consciously, hearing him exhale at the same moment, as if he’d been aware of the tension between them, too.

‘Close your eyes.’ To her surprise, he pressed a kiss against her forehead, his voice sounding different, rougher and deeper so that she couldn’t tell if he was giving an order or pleading with her.

‘Yes.’ She did as he asked anyway, wriggling across to her side of the bed and curling up on her side, trying to repress a new and unusual tugging sensation in her abdomen. ‘Goodnight, Matthew.’

‘Goodnight, Constance.’

He didn’t move and she had to make a concerted effort to stop herself from rolling back again.

* * *

Hostelries, Constance decided, weren’t anywhere near as bad as she’d been led to believe. Admittedly, the dilapidated straw mattress hadn’t been the most comfortable experience in the world and there had been regular disturbances as the minstrels had kept up a steady flow of music until the early hours and then made even more noise on their way up to bed—and she couldn’t even begin to describe the sound of a dozen men snoring!—but by the time she heard the first birds calling outside, she felt surprisingly well rested.

The tempest of the night before seemed to have blown itself out and the faint pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof was oddly soothing, if not exactly encouraging for the journey ahead. She felt warm and cosy, as if she were in some kind of nest. Which, she discovered when she opened her eyes, she effectively was. At some point, Matthew must have draped his cloak on top of her and its fur collar tickled her cheek as she stirred.

She rolled over to find him already awake, lying on his back with his head twisted slightly towards her and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. She had the distinct impression that he’d just been looking at her, though his expression gave nothing away. She wished that it did. The previous evening almost felt like a dream, though she was vaguely aware that things had changed between them. It wasn’t simply that they’d shared a bed, albeit chastely. It was that he’d treated her like an equal, telling her all about the horror of Bouvines as well as his honest opinion of the King. Then he’d called her beautiful and defended her honour, too, even if she didn’t know, and wasn’t sure she wanted to know, how.