Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight

‘I’m trying to be practical.’

‘Well, don’t! How can you tell me to denounce you!’

‘It’s for your own safety. To protect Lacelby, too.’

‘And stop talking about Lacelby as if it’s all I care about!’

He felt his heart twist, hardly daring to believe what her words implied. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest that you don’t have feelings. If you have feelings for me, too...’ He faltered mid-sentence. This wasn’t the right way to say it...although as to what was the right way... He cleared his throat, frowning as he tried to find the words. ‘Constance, if you feel even half of what I feel for you, then you’d make me the happiest man in England, rebellion or not.’

‘Are you saying that you care for me?’ She sounded faintly suspicious.

‘I love you.’ He lifted his hands to her face, holding his breath as he cupped her cheeks between his fingers. ‘I thought you might have noticed that by now. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever said those words to anyone, but I mean them. I love you. I think, at this point, that might mean for ever.’

‘Matthew...’ A single tear trickled from the corner of one eye before she pulled away again. ‘No! You said honesty was important to you, too. You said that you didn’t have any more secrets!’

‘I said I didn’t have any more concerning my family.’

‘You tricked me!’

‘I had to.’

‘So now you think you can just tell me you’re part of a rebellion and that I might lose my home and then say that you love me! As if I should just forgive you? It’s too much!’

‘I’m sorry, Constance.’ He resisted the urge to reach for her again. ‘But I’ll make this right somehow. You won’t regret not taking that annulment, I promise.’

‘Then look me in the eye and swear there are no more secrets. And no tricks with words either. If you’re hiding anything else then you have to tell me now.’

‘There’s nothing else, I promise.’

‘Because this is enough!’

‘I know, but I love you.’

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, turning her face away from him. ‘Then we’ll just have to hope the King backs down.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Constance sat on the edge of her bed, dragging a comb slowly and painfully through the tangled chaos of her hair. After a bath, the damp tresses looked midnight black and reached almost to her knees. At that precise moment, however, she was tempted to pick up a knife and cut half of them off. The knots were worse than ever today, though that was hardly surprising after she’d tossed and turned for most of the night. Not to mention every other night for the past week, too.

She heard Matthew’s voice outside in the bailey and scowled, aware of a knot of resentment deep in her stomach, too tight and twisted for her to unravel with rational thought, no matter how hard she tried. The shock of his confession had finally worn off, but she still couldn’t help but feel angry.

It wasn’t even because he’d kept such a big secret from her! He’d given his word to not tell anyone about the charter and she could respect and admire him for that, but it was hard not to feel bitter about how much he’d risked—was still risking. Even if it had all been decided before their reunion in Lincoln, they’d been married when he’d decided to join the rebellion. Which he’d done without any thought for her!

The most ironic part was that she agreed with him. If the King was so corrupt, then he did need to be challenged, but Matthew still might have considered how his actions would affect her, not to mention Lacelby. Instead, he’d gone ahead and made every decision himself. Just like he had five years ago. If she were feeling disloyal, then she might have called his behaviour tyrannical, too. She might even have said he was the man she’d feared at the start, usurping all control over her life and home.

She finally succeeded in unravelling the last tangle and then tossed the comb aside, looking around the room with a loving eye. This was her home, the place that she’d longed for during the five years she’d spent with her cousins. Now she’d finally found her way back, not just here, but to her self, making her peace with the past and finding a sense of belonging again. After the first week of sleeping in her old bed, she and Matthew had even moved into her parents’ old chamber, the biggest and most comfortable room in the keep, though they hadn’t made love since Jerrard had visited. They hadn’t talked about it, or much else for that matter, reserving their conversation for neutral topics like the weather.

The rift between them had grown deeper and deeper every day. He hadn’t said that he loved her again and she hadn’t said it either. It was a petty form of revenge, she supposed, withholding the words when she knew in her heart they were true, but somehow the declaration had frozen on her lips. He’d kept so many secrets that it seemed fitting somehow. She didn’t want to love a man who kept secrets and risked her home without so much as mentioning it to her. She didn’t want to love a man she resented either and yet, in the moment when he’d first mentioned the possibility of lands and lives being forfeit, she knew she hadn’t thought of Lacelby at all. All she’d thought of was him.

If only there would be some news from London to alleviate the atmosphere of tension! The week since Jerrard had left felt like an eternity, with all her nerves permanently on edge. Even her steaming hot bath that morning hadn’t succeeded in removing all the knots from her muscles, though she felt marginally better. Now all she had to do was put on a dress and a brave face for the day ahead.

Reluctantly, she coiled her hair over one shoulder and pulled on a plain russet bliaut, wandering across to the window to peer outside. The rain of the past month had given way to an occasional dusting of snow, but today the skies were a cloudless, halcyon blue.

She was just about to turn away again when she caught sight of a dark blur approaching the gate. The shape was unmistakably that of a horse and rider and, from the speed at which they were riding, it could only be a messenger. Which meant...

She spun towards the door in less than a heartbeat, hurtling recklessly down the stairwell and headlong through the hall, past a startled-looking Tomas and outside without stopping to tie back her hair or put on a pair of shoes.

‘Matthew?’ she called out from the keep steps. He was already talking to the new arrival. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’