Lady Rowena's Ruin. Carol Townend
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away. Rowena knew she must be patient, in time, she might learn the truth. ‘Eric, who will run the household if Helvise acts as my maid?’
Eric looked blankly at her before his face cleared. ‘There’s a woman in the village, the smith’s wife, Maude, I could ask her.’
Rowena found herself shaking her head. ‘Sir, I have been taught how to run a household, whilst I am here I would be glad to help.’
He stared. ‘You, run this manor?’
‘You think me incapable?’ She stiffened, mildly affronted at his doubts. ‘I assure you I have been trained to run households far larger than this one.’ And if she did manage this manor, the insight she would gain about Eric would be invaluable. Servants revealed more about their masters than most men realised. She would learn far more about his nature if she put her hand to the wheel than if she sat idly by. With a start, she realised she was starting to take the idea of marrying Eric seriously. Could she marry this man? Could she?
‘Rowena—my lady—you misunderstand, all I am trying to say is that I didn’t bring you here to work. I brought you here to—’
‘Save me from Sir Breon?’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Is that truly why you brought me here?’
‘You know it is.’
‘You think my father will change his mind? You think I will be able to return to the convent?’
He looked at her. ‘If I had a daughter I couldn’t possibly force her into marriage.’
‘You might if you held my father’s lands.’ Rowena tipped back her head to hold his gaze. ‘Eric, you have forgotten Sir Armand. My father loathes him, he will not change his mind.’ She swallowed and the question she burned for him to answer slipped out. ‘Do you wish to marry me?’
‘My lady, have you forgotten the abbey? You are to take the veil.’ He studied her face and lowered his voice. ‘I was shocked when I heard about your decision to become a nun.’
‘Shocked?’
‘It seemed so much at odds with the girl I knew. You—a nun.’ He shook his head. ‘All I could think was that you made your decision to thwart your father.’
‘In part.’ Rowena saw no reason to tell Eric about Mathieu. Her relationship with Mathieu had been a secret. No one knew that she had fallen in love with him and that one day she had hoped to marry him. In any case, nothing had happened between her and Mathieu, a few stolen kisses didn’t count.
However, there was something she did need to tell Eric. He had to be told that if he wished it, she might consider marrying him. Sir Breon was out of the question, but Eric had arranged for her to have a maid, exactly as she had asked. So far he was giving every sign that whilst she was under his roof he intended to observe the proprieties. She trusted him. Perhaps they might spend the next few days learning about each other. They might consider whether they might really make a match of it.
She took a deep breath. ‘Eric, sir, there is something important I would ask you.’
‘Aye?’
‘If...if I was willing, would you marry me?’
Searching eyes looked into hers. ‘You’re serious?’
‘Eric, you know I could never marry Sir Breon. Sadly, my father also knows it. That’s why he put you in the position of having to rescue me. He was relying on your innate sense of chivalry.’
Eric’s mouth twisted. ‘My innate sense of chivalry?’
‘He respects you too, of course. He would never have asked you to marry me otherwise.’ Rowena gripped the gallery guardrail. This was beyond embarrassing, but since she had begun she would finish. Now she was away from St Mary’s, she was beginning to see the world—and her place in it—with new eyes. She had believed she was made to be a nun and the thought of returning to the nunnery should please her. It didn’t, it left her cold as stone. She didn’t wanted to go back. Ever. How could this be? Her stomach felt jittery and her pulse was thudding. She drew in a breath. ‘Eric, recently I have been ill at ease in the convent and I wasn’t quite sure why. I am beginning to see that I have been dreading taking my vows.’
‘Go on.’
‘I thought God was testing me.’
‘It’s possible you are not meant to be a nun.’
‘Eric, I don’t know. All I can say it that I have felt half-dead these past weeks. With your agreement, I should like to consider marrying you.’
He looked quizzically at her. ‘You think marrying me would bring you to life?’
With difficulty she met his gaze. ‘I don’t know, but I would like to consider it. We were friends when we were young, we liked each other.’
‘So we did.’
‘Marriages have been founded on far less. I think we should use the next few days to see if we might suit each other.’
He drew his head back. ‘You would be happy to become my wife?’
‘I am happy to consider it, but only if you want it. I would not wish to marry you if you did not want me.’
Slowly, he looked her up and down. His eyes were dark and something in his expression brought warmth to her cheeks. ‘Any man would surely be happy to call you his wife.’ His face lightened. He took his hand in his and carried it to his heart. ‘My lady, even if you hadn’t a penny to call your own, you would be a desirable woman.’ With a grin, he lifted her hand briefly to his lips. ‘Lady Rowena, you are beyond compare.’
A pang went through her. Naturally, Eric would want her for her lands. As would any man. Rowena had always known her true worth as a daughter and heiress to the County of Sainte-Colombe. No man of any sense would ever put her person before her lands. Ignoring the pang—it couldn’t be disappointment—she looked expectantly at him. She wanted to hear his agreement, she needed the words. ‘So, you would be happy to consider my father’s proposal?’
‘If we came to an agreement, would it be a real marriage?’ he asked, staring at her mouth.
Rowena shifted as an inexplicable wave of heat rushed through her. ‘It...it should be in name only, I think, certainly at the beginning.’
He grimaced.
‘Eric, it...it is a long time since we have seen each other. We have become as strangers.’
He cleared his throat and squeezed her fingers. ‘If we decide to marry all shall be as you wish, my lady, though I give you fair warning the idea of a marriage being in name only holds no appeal. A marriage is not considered valid until it is consummated.’
She bit her lip. ‘I do not feel ready for consummation, sir.’
‘I shall do my utmost to ensure you change your mind about that, and quickly. I want heirs.’
Cheeks burning, she nodded. ‘Eventually, of course. I understand the duties of a wife.’
‘We need to retreat,’ he murmured. Backing her into the shadows away from the guardrail, he grasped her other hand.
Rowena’s breath left her. She poised herself for flight as broad shoulders blocked her view of the hall. Eric’s scent—a heady mix of leather and horse, woodsmoke and man—filled her nostrils.
‘Relax, Rowena,’ he said softly. ‘If I may call you that?’
‘Please do.’ Managing to free one of her hands, Rowena had placed it against his gambeson with the vague intention of warding him off before she realised she wasn’t afraid. Her throat worked. ‘Wh...what are you doing?’
‘I am going to seal our betrothal agreement, I am going to kiss you.’
Her gaze flew to his mouth. It was smiling. It was extraordinarily attractive. How strange, she wasn’t