Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight

She felt a flutter of panic. ‘What circumstances would those be?’

‘Why, haven’t you heard?’ Smugness turned to feigned innocence. ‘London’s a battlefield. The barons and their supporters are all wanted men. The ones who aren’t prisoners already, that is.’

‘What?’ She gripped the back of a chair for support as her knees started to shake. ‘But the King said that he’d speak with them, that he’d negotiate!’

‘John says a lot of things when he needs to, but a king doesn’t bargain with traitors.’

‘I don’t believe you. The King has no money and no supporters.’

‘Is that what Matthew told you? No doubt he was trying to shelter you from the truth, my dear.’

‘No!’ She shook her head, refusing to believe it, her palms damp with sweat and her heart clamouring with panic. ‘He told me that was the truth.’

‘Well then, it seems he misjudged the situation. Rather badly, I’m afraid.’

‘Have you heard anything from him?’

‘If I had, then I’d be obliged to inform the King. I don’t consort with traitors.’

‘He’s your son!’

‘And a traitor. Which is why I need to take you back to Wintercott. For your own protection, naturally.’

‘Protection?’ She swallowed nervously as bile rose in her throat. ‘Protection from what?’

‘Why, from Matthew, of course. You wouldn’t want to become involved in all this, would you? If he comes to you, seeking help...’

‘Then I’ll send him away again.’

‘Come now, my dear.’ Sir Ralph’s expression was a combination of pity and mockery. ‘I think we both know you wouldn’t do that.’

‘I’m still not leaving.’ Constance pushed herself away from the chair, clenching her fists angrily. It was bad enough that Matthew thought he could make every decision for her, but she’d be damned before she let another man tell her what to do, especially his father! ‘This is my home.’

‘But, alas, it’s not your choice.’

‘I refuse to...’ She gasped, pressing her lips together as a fresh wave of nausea swept over her. Even Sir Ralph’s face was starting to swim before her eyes.

‘You refuse what?’ He looked at her askance, as if suspecting some kind of trick.

‘I refuse to come with you.’ She pulled her shoulders back, trying to sound forceful and resist the almost overpowering urge to vomit. ‘You have no right to take me anywhere!’

‘You’re a Wintour, which places you under my authority.’

‘My people here won’t allow it.’

‘Your people will do as I tell them or suffer the consequences.’ His expression was implacable as he came to stand right in front of her. ‘Now you’ll come willingly or by force, but you will come. Which will it be?’

Constance sank down into the chair, resenting her own weakness, but the dizzy feeling was getting worse. If she stayed on her feet a moment longer, then she was afraid she would faint. How could she ask others to fight for her when she could barely stand up herself?

‘I’ll come.’ Her tongue felt thick.

‘Good.’ Sir Ralph’s expression suggested he hadn’t doubted it for a second. ‘Tell your maids they have an hour to pack your things. Then we’re leaving.’

* * *

‘Is it true?’ Matthew marched into the hall where Jerrard was sitting alone at a table, staring into a tankard of ale.

‘It’s true.’ Jerrard looked up and sighed. ‘If this were chess, I’d say it’s a stalemate. John has agreed to a safe conduct until Low Sunday. Then we’ll all meet again in Northampton.’