Married to Her Enemy

‘Oh?’ She felt her pulse start to race. Was that why he looked so forbidding? Because the Earl hadn’t believed their story? Was he here to arrest her?

‘De Quincey told him you’d brought news of your sister. He seemed to believe it.’

‘So it’s going to be all right?’ Her shoulders sagged with relief.

‘In a manner of speaking. He’s appointed me Warden of Redbourn.’

‘You? What about de Quincey?’

‘He wants to take your sister to Normandy after they’re married. He thinks Redbourn m

ight contain too many memories.’

‘Normandy? But this is her home!’

‘The home she ran away from. Perhaps she won’t mind.’

‘So you... He...’

She spluttered at him, surprise giving way to anger. She’d spent the last hour torturing herself, worrying about the danger he might be in, when apparently she needn’t have bothered! He’d been rewarded—not punished. He’d been given a castle! She’d been stupidly naive, thinking that he’d gone in to protect her when all he cared about was getting his hands on Saxon land! And she’d let it all be decided without her! De Quincey was to claim Cille and Svend was to get Redbourn. It had all worked out perfectly. For them.

‘So the Earl just gave you Redbourn?’ She eyed him suspiciously.

‘Not exactly. There are conditions.’

‘How inconvenient.’ She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm. ‘But at least you still get your reward.’

‘I’ve earned it.’

‘Yes, you must have been very convincing.’

His eyelids flickered dangerously, though his stern expression didn’t waver. ‘The credit belongs to De Quincey. He truly loves your sister.’

She gave him a withering glare. Even if that were true, it didn’t necessarily mean that Cille loved him. And she wouldn’t know that until she returned to Etton and asked her. At least now she could leave with de Quincey.

‘So if you’re the Warden, am I free to go?’

‘No.’ He held her gaze steadily. ‘Not yet.’

‘You said the Earl believed you.’

‘He did. He wants us to marry.’

Marry? She mouthed the word, though it didn’t come out. Instead she stared at him soundlessly, thinking she must have misheard. He’d said it so matter-of-factly, without so much as a flicker of emotion, that surely she must have misheard. If he’d said that the Earl himself wanted to marry her she couldn’t have felt more surprised.

‘He wants the Warden to marry a Saxon.’

‘But...’ She licked her lips, trying to loosen them. ‘Why me? I don’t have anything to do with Redbourn.’

‘It was the Earl’s choice.’

She flinched as if he’d just struck her. It was the Earl’s choice—by implication not his. Well, what else had she expected? To be told that he’d asked for her, loved her, actually wanted to marry her? He looked distant and withdrawn, as if marriage to her was the very last thing he wanted. All he wanted was Redbourn.

‘So I’m a...condition?’

‘One of them.’

She bristled. So the Earl thought he could simply dispose of both her and Cille in one fell swoop, shaping their lives to his own advantage! Or had he guessed her deception after all? Was this some kind of twisted revenge? Forcing her to marry a man who clearly didn’t want her?