Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight

‘You’re mistaken.’ Matthew made a move towards the stairwell, but his father blocked the way.

‘Why do you think I tolerate his behaviour?’ He pushed his face closer again, his features contorted with enmity. ‘Because it amuses me. Because he amuses me. As if she would

ever care for a pathetic weakling like him.’

‘Alan isn’t a weakling.’

‘He’s not a man either!’

‘So you enjoy mocking him? Why, when you—?’ Matthew stopped mid-sentence, too late to stop his father’s lips spreading into a malicious smile, as if he’d simply been waiting for him to ask the question.

‘Why do I tolerate the same behaviour in him that I punished in you?’

‘It’s not the same.’ Matthew felt his temper start to rise. ‘I wasn’t in love with Blanche. I must have told you that a hundred times. If you’d believed me, she wouldn’t have become so desperate.’

‘She was only desperate because of you!’

‘There was nothing between us!’

‘She was still mine!’

Matthew’s fingers twitched into fists. ‘Is that why you hate me so much? Because you think she loved me and I took her from you? Like she was just another castle, another possession?’ He was aware of his temper spiralling, but he seemed unable to do anything to control it. ‘You might have owned her body, but you never even knew the rest of her. You never tried to know her. You never showed her the slightest bit of affection or kindness, let alone love. That was all she wanted, but all you’ve ever cared about are things and you don’t give a damn about the people around you. You only want to control them. Me, Alan, Blanche, now Adelaide, too!’

‘Blanche was a whore! I’m better off without her.’

Until that moment, Matthew wasn’t aware that he could move so quickly. His hands were around his father’s throat and squeezing tight before he knew what he was doing.

‘She never betrayed you. She came to me for help because she was lonely and unhappy. Because of you.’

‘She...was...a...whore!’ Even bulging, his father’s eyes still glistened with anger.

‘She—was—your—wife!’

* * *

Constance dressed reluctantly. Given the choice, she would have preferred to stay and luxuriate in the warm space left by Matthew’s body—especially since he’d told her he wouldn’t be long—but she didn’t want anyone else to come in and find her either. Not that Susanna or any of the other maids would say anything, but she already felt different enough, as if she were a whole new person to the one she’d been that morning. The change would surely be obvious enough without her lying around naked as well!

There was a dull throbbing sensation between her legs, though the memory of their lovemaking that morning still made her smile. It was the last thing she’d expected to happen when she’d followed him up to the roof—the last thing either of them had expected, judging by the look on his face when she’d asked why they had to wait—and yet somehow it had felt right. The truth about Blanche had brought them closer together instead of pushing them apart so that now she felt optimistic about the future again. About their marriage, too. They hadn’t spoken any words of love, but she cared about him and he behaved as if he cared about her. Surely it was just a matter of time...

She ran a hand over her mouth, still vividly aware of the feeling of his lips against hers, then slipped on a pair of kidskin slippers and ventured out into the gallery. At least Adelaide was unlikely to ask any questions about where she’d been or for how long. She was probably unlikely to get more than a glance out of her. Which, this time, suited her perfectly.

She went back into the solar where Adelaide was still sitting and took up the sleeve she’d been working on before, though no sooner had she sat down than she shot up again, startled by the sound of loud voices from the hall below. Even from the floor above, she recognised Matthew’s, raised in anger.

‘You shouldn’t go.’ Adelaide’s voice brought her to a halt as she made for the door again.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s best to keep away.’ The other woman didn’t lift her gaze from her sewing. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

‘I still have to try!’

Constance hurried out of the solar, down the stairs and into the hall, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of Matthew with his hands clamped around his father’s throat.

‘Matthew!’ She called out his name and he spun around instantly, though his face was almost unrecognisable, filled with a look of such fury that she almost stepped backwards herself. For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his expression shifting between several different emotions, before he loosened his hold and shoved, sending his father sprawling into the floor rushes.

‘Call her a whore again and I’ll finish what we started five years ago.’

She stiffened at the words, the hostility behind them sending a cold shiver down her spine. Apparently they weren’t the only ones who’d been talking about Blanche that day.