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He seemed oddly happy at that news. Turning onto his back, Guy sighed and closed his eyes. Although she was tired too, she could not resist asking, “That pleases you?”
He did not stir.
“Aye.”
“Why?”
His lips turned up ever so slowly, though he did not open his eyes.
“The things I plan to do with you are hardly appropriate for a lady.”
His eyes finally opened and sought hers.
“Sabine.”
Heart hammering in her chest, Sabine knew she should respond, but no words formed on her lips.
“You’ve simply to make an offer, and I promise”—he winked—“not to refuse.”
She couldn’t find the words to respond, but Sabine did have a pillow. She smacked him in the middle of the chest with it, ignoring his laughter and renewing the vow she’d made to herself. If for no other reason than that offering anything to this man would be the epitome of foolishness.
Chapter 12
“A word, my lady?” the Earl of Licheford called to her.
They stood just outside the keep. Guy had left to retrieve their horses for their journey to Noreham. He’d warned her they would be on the road for several nights. There was an inn along the way, he explained, but it catered more to mercenaries than lords and ladies. She supposed he was trying to protect her, but if she would risk her life at Noreham, she could certainly brave a simple inn.
“Of course,” she told Conrad, for she surely couldn’t deny him.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said, watching as Guy emerged from the stables. “And for the fine riding gown. The maid would not let me refuse—”
“As I instructed her to do. You look lovely in it. My mother’s tailor made her so many gowns there are several she never had occasion to wear.”
The maid had arrived at her door with it that morning, telling her much the same story. Sabine had tried to send her away, but the woman had been quite insistent on helping her into it.
“I thank you again, my lord.”
Conrad angled toward her, his expression turning serious.
“Be patient with him.”
She did not have to ask for clarification.
“He would have you believe he cares for little, including you.”
Sabine must have appeared startled, for Conrad immediately apologized.
“I do not mean to be so crude, but there is little time for courtesy. I’ve known him for many years. Being a friend to Guy Lavallais takes some measure of patience. I can only imagine being his wife will take more so.”
“He did not explain the circumstances of our marriage?”
Conrad chuckled. “He did. And I dare say he is impressed with your craftiness. As am I.”
Sabine didn’t know what to say.
“He was raised by a man even harder than the one who strides toward us. His mother, a Frenchwoman, left them both at an early age, and I do not believe Guy ever really recovered.”
Sabine looked from Conrad to her husband, who spoke to a stablehand as they led the horses forward.
