Chapter 43

THE next week passed in a torrent of emotions, and she spiraled between deep depression and impotent fury. Rolfe indeed followed her back to Crewel and dragged her up to their room. She expected the worst, but what he did was to lock her in. Later she learned he had drunk himself into oblivion that night.

He released her the next day, but nothing had changed. He wouldn't listen when she tried to explain about meeting Alain. He wouldn't listen when she said there had been no question of her leaving with Alain. He wouldn't listen. He would not speak to her. The servants avoided her for fear of his anger.

The worst was that Wilda and Mary were sent away, leaving her bereft. There was no one at all for her to talk to.

If he would leave, the tension might become bearable, she told herself.

But he did not return to the siege at Warling. He did not even leave the keep to hunt. He stayed near Leonie, yet away from her, as if he did not trust himself to be with her, yet could not leave her alone.

She knew exactly what he thought. He expected her to flee, and he was there to make certain she didn't. Finding Alain's two notes together and crumpled on the floor the day Rolfe locked her in the room told her how he had found her and what conclusions he had drawn. She knew how damning that scene in the clearing had been, but there was no way to put things right when he wouldn't listen to her.

He would not even sleep with her in their bed, but was sleeping on a pallet in the antechamber, like a guard outside her door.

She knew she could not go on that way much longer. Frustrated and angry, Leonie threw open the door that separated her from her husband.

His eyes were open. He was staring at the ceiling. He was ignoring her and it sent her over the edge. She looked around the antechamber for something to throw at him.

"Do not, Leonie." His voice was low and menacing.

"Why not?" she demanded furiously. "Then you could beat me and we would have done with this!"

"Beat you?" Rolfe sat up on his pallet. "I killed a man for doing just that and you dare to think I—"

"What?"

"Calveley is dead by my hand," he told her tonelessly. "I could not let him live after what he did to you."

Leonie was stunned. "How did you know? I never said—"

"The last week I was gone from here I spent with your father, rendering him sober enough to accept my challenge." As her eyes reflected panic, he said irritably, "I did not kill your father, woman. He was not the villain I believed he was. He had his wife turn him into a drunk. He was weak, and hardly guiltless, but he did not order you beaten, Leonie. He did not know anything, did not even know you were at Pershwick all these years," he finished a bit more gently.

"How . . . could he not know?" she whispered, nearly in shock, and Rolfe explained all of it.

"Right now he is overcome with remorse for failing you so terribly," he finished.

She was sickened. Why had she not once tried to force her way in to see him? She might have saved herself and her father so much misery.

She might have learned the truth sooner.

"I shall go to him now!"

"No!"

"No?" she cried. "How can you sayno?"

"Give the man a chance to regain his self-respect, Leonie," Rolfe said adamantly. "He will come toyouwhen he is ready. You may be certain he will."

She glared at him, near tears. "Do not wrap your refusal in noble sentiments! You say no to keep me imprisoned here. Why deny it?"

"Damn me!" Rolfe exploded. He reached her in two strides, taking no notice of his undressed state. "I returned here to tell you all I learned about your father, and found you run off with your lover!"

"He was never my lover!"

"Liar!" His hands bit into her shoulders. "I would not be surprised if you left his note out on purpose so that I could be drawn into his trap.

Youdidknow he had men waiting to attack me?"

"I know it now, but I did not know it then. How could I? I had not seen him before that day, I swear it."

He was so furious, he shook her. "There were two notes!"

"There were three!" she shouted back. "But I paid no attention to the first two. I wanted only to see what Alain was doing here. He was so insistent about seeing me. And why would I leave notes for you to read when you told me you could not read? If anyone is a liar, you are!"

Rolfe sidestepped that issue entirely. "What did he tell you, Leonie?"

he asked her darkly.

She wasn't fooled by the softer tone. "That he wanted to help me, that he thought I was suffering living with you." She lowered her voice too.

"But I don't think that is really why he drew me out there. I think those men who attacked you were there to assist him with me if I did not agree to go away with him. I think he meant to hold me for ransom."

She lowered her eyes. That was a mistake, for suddenly she was very much aware of his nudity. Rolfe became aware of it too. He didn't know whether he ought to believe her, but he desperately wanted to.

When he gathered her into his arms, she was shocked. How could anyone be so changeable? She tried to pull away.

"Rolfe, no!"

He crushed her to him. "Unfair, Leonie. You use my name to weaken me."

"How can you—"

"How can I not? God help me, I want you. I cannot fight it and I will not try anymore."

Rolfe didn't know it, but those words worked magic on her, making her suddenly realize that he did love her—he was just too stubborn to admit it.

In truth, all Leonie had ever wanted from him was his love. Having that, she would give him everything, her heart, her life, her children.

She gave him passion to match his own, and Rolfe was nearly undone by her response. He picked her up and carried her to the large bed she had not been able to sleep in alone. There he made love to her with his hands, his lips, all of his body, showing her with his desire what was in his heart.

And Leonie loved him in return, with no thought for any time but the moment. He was hers, and she let her joy guide her, exalting in having all of him.

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