Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight

‘In a way.’ He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed that part of his brother’s tirade. ‘I’m his heir and I look just like him. He doesn’t like sharing anything, even appearances.’

‘Oh...’ Her eyes widened with a look of shock. ‘It sounds complicated.’

‘It is. Our father was always a bully, but towards Alan most of all.’

‘I noticed. Those things he said downstairs, the way he insulted him... Did he ever say such things to you?’

‘No, but I was bigger and stronger, whereas Alan was small and slight and too good-natured to stand up for himself.’

‘So you did it for him?’

‘I did...until I didn’t.’ He felt a stab of guilt. ‘You see, I didn’t just leave without telling him five years ago. I abandoned him to survive alone with our father. You can see why he’s angry.’

‘Yes, but if you had a good reason for leaving, maybe you should try explaining to him now. Even if you can’t tell him what it was exactly, you should still try to talk to him.’

‘Something tells me Alan doesn’t want to talk to me.’ He lifted a hand to his jaw and moved it slowly from side to side. The muscles there felt tighter than ever and the speculative tone of her voice was making him uneasy. The last thing he wanted was for her to try to guess his reasons.

‘That doesn’t mean that you should just give up,’ she persisted. ‘Especially if we’re staying for a couple of days. You should use the time to try to reconcile with him.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘No!’ If he wasn’t mistaken, she actually raised her foot in order to stamp it. ‘Family is important, I know that better than anyone. You were right when you said that my uncle and aunt were best placed to take care of me after my parents died. I know I said otherwise, but honestly, I don’t know what I would have done without them or Isabella. She’s my best friend and I can’t imagine how terrible I’d feel if she were angry with me.’ She took a step closer towards him. ‘Yes, I resented you when you came back, but I don’t any more, which means that it’s possible to get past it. You can still reconcile with your brother. You just need to talk to him.’

‘Constance...’ He opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again. Her eyes were shining like sapphires, as brightly and brilliantly as they had when they’d met in her aunt’s solar. It was amazing to think it had only been two days ago when he felt as though he’d known her for weeks, if not months, longer. Strangely enough, her presence beside him was comforting, too. He would have thought it would only make things more awkward, but in fact the opposite was true. If anything, he liked her too much. She made him feel better, not worse, even if on this point she was proving surprisingly intractable. For all her soft curves, the precise contours of which he was noticing more and more, it was becoming increasingly apparent that she had a backbone of steel. He couldn’t help but admire the look of determination on her face, not to mention the way she lifted her chin higher and higher the longer she spoke, as if daring him to contradict her, exposing the long, smooth expanse of her neck.

Despite the circumstances, he felt his pulse quicken, gripped by the urge to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close, to press his lips against her neck and kiss and lick and taste every inch of tantalisingly exposed skin. Unfortunately, the last place he wanted to do it was here at Wintercott.

‘As you wish.’ He dragged his thoughts back to the present with an effort. ‘If it will make you feel better, I’ll try to talk to him.’

‘Good.’ Her expression softened and then turned thoughtful again. ‘So your mother was your father’s first wife and Alan’s his second? Then Marthe was his third, but Lady Adelaide is his fifth, isn’t she? So there must have been a fourth. Who was she?’

For one gut-wrenching moment he felt as though she’d actually thrown something heavy across the room, hitting him in the stomach and making it difficult to breathe again. If she’d hurled a rock, she could hardly have winded him any more effectively. It took all of his self-control not to bend over and gasp for air.

‘Yes. There was one other.’ Somehow he forced himself to speak normally. ‘Her name was Blanche.’

‘What happened to her?’

‘There was an accident.’

‘What kind of—?’

‘You look tired,’ he interrupted, pushing himself away from the wall before she could finish the question. ‘There’s no need to come down for dinner. I’ll have some food sent up here.’

‘Oh...’ She looked taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. ‘Yes, thank you, I’d like that.’

‘Then I’ll arrange it.’

He started to move away and then stopped, inwardly berating himself for rudeness. After everything else, he didn’t want to behave like his father in that regard either. He turned back, instinctively lifting both hands to her face and cupping her cheeks gently between his fingers. It wasn’t exactly a friendly gesture, more like that of a lover, but all he knew was that he wanted to touch her, wanted to soften his brusqueness somehow even if he didn’t have the

words to do it. Her skin felt as soft as he’d imagined, smooth as silk and yet warm to the touch. Slowly, he traced one thumb gently across her lips. They parted at once and he felt a fresh wave of desire course through his body. The urge to kiss her was almost overpowering. Considering what—who—they’d just discussed, the feeling caught him even more off guard than it had the first time, as if he were powerless to control it.

She wasn’t pulling away either, he noticed, her eyes wide and searching as her lashes fluttered and her breath seemed to hitch in her throat. What would the rest of her feel like? He couldn’t stop himself from wondering. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the rounded smoothness of her thighs? How would she feel lying beside him...on top of him...beneath him? His body ached to find out, a whole plethora of tantalising images making him feel too hot beneath his tunic, but now wasn’t the time or place for such thoughts. She was obviously tired and he had his family to face again. That was enough to dampen any desire. Almost.

‘Get some rest, Constance.’ He released her again and strode quickly towards the door. ‘I’ll be back later. Right now I have a few matters to attend to.’

Chapter Thirteen

Constance opened her eyelids, the novelty of her surroundings combined with the golden glow of the sunlight shining in between gaps in the window shutters bringing her back to consciousness with a jolt. Which was quite some feat when the mattress beneath her was more comfortable than anything she’d ever slept on in her whole life before. At her uncle’s house she would have been tempted to doze for a while, but she wasn’t at her uncle’s house, she remembered with a sinking feeling, or at Lacelby either. She was at Wintercott, the largest, most impressive castle she’d ever seen with the strangest, most sinister inhabitants.