Birthright Read online

  * * *

  Denis inhaled deeply, wishing he had never met Paulina Lallement. The ugliness he had striven his whole life to overcome stood in sharp contrast to her beauty. “Have you seen the way she looks at me, Adam? She may be small, but she is not an aberration like me.”

  “She is afraid. Rosamunda confided to me that her sister did not long for freedom as she did. She has lived with fear for a long time. She considers herself a freak of nature.”

  Denis raked fingers through his hair. “But she is stunningly beautiful.”

  “She does not see it. She sees only her size.”

  Denis snorted. “I know the feeling.”

  “She needs your strength.”

  Denis held his arms wide, palms towards his body. “Look at me. Why would a beautiful woman want to bed this?”

  Adam poked him in the chest. “Don’t give me those excuses. You have never wallowed in self-pity. You are one of the finest men I know and have much to offer a woman.”

  Denis gazed into the well. “You’re right, but the possibility of her rejecting me is more than I can bear. I’ve never risked my heart before.”

  * * *

  Watching from windows was the habit of a lifetime for Rosamunda. Paulina at first resisted her suggestion that they watch Adam and Denis practice swordplay with their men-at-arms in the courtyard. However, curiosity won out and she brought over a stool.

  Most of the combatants were stripped to the waist. Rosamunda barely noticed them, her eyes fixed on Adam’s white linen shirt molded to his broad chest and shoulders. He was a capable swordsman, easily disarming any challenger. His long legs gave him a distinct advantage. She grew strangely hot at the thought of kneading her fingers into his strong thighs.

  It was not the first time this idea had crossed her mind. Each day in the dining hall, she sat next to him at meal times, feeling the heat from those powerful thighs. But he was careful to leave space between them.

  He apparently found her unattractive, but she had a feeling there was something else.

  After their exercise, Adam cranked up the bucket from the well. The brothers shared a drink as they talked.

  “Perplexed,” she mouthed to Paulina.

  Receiving no response, she poked her sister’s shoulder, startled to see drool trickling down her chin. She traced a line from the corner of her mouth. “Drooling.”

  Paulina looked up at her sharply, hastily wiping her mouth. “I am not.”

  Rosamunda shrugged. “What are they discussing?”

  Red faced, Paulina got down off the stool and left the window. “Who knows?”

  Rosamunda squinted, trying to watch Adam’s lips, but he was too far away. It was curious how he bent his head and stared at the dwarf when he spoke, as if the smaller man was too far away to hear.

  Ridiculous! Just because he’s short—

  She slapped her forehead with her palm. The reality was plain to see.

  Adam cannot hear.

  It explained the sullen anger he often exhibited, the constant frown as he strained to understand what people said. She guessed he had not been deaf long. Her brothers had hinted at some recent change in him. An accident or a malady could render a man deaf.

  Adam always watched her lips carefully, not because he liked her mouth, or was truly interested in what she had to say, but because he was deaf. Her muteness was of no consequence.

  Her heart leapt into her throat.

  It doesn’t matter that I am mute.

  * * *

  Paulina was mortified. Imagine drooling at the thought of untying the leather thong that bound Sancerre’s thick curly hair, and running her fingers through it.

  If only she could let go of her fear and respond to his kindness, instead of behaving like a shrew. Perhaps she was more like her mother than she wanted to admit.

  He was not a handsome man, but he was strong and surprisingly agile for one with such a tortured physique. He confided in her as they sat at table that he was a better cavalryman than a foot soldier, but he had held his own in the bouts of swordplay they’d watched.

  She looked forward to his conversations at meal times. He was educated, well-traveled, and honorable. He had saved her life.

  But his green eyes filled with longing when he looked at her, and the intensity of his gaze stole away her wits. Her body developed tinglings in surprising places. One morning, she awoke with her hand clamped firmly where it should not have been. Her already large breasts protested against the fabric of her gown whenever Denis walked into her presence. Her throat constricted and she might have been the mute sister for all she could think to say. Perhaps the smoke had made her ill.

  Undeniable Attraction

  Adam decided the first official visit as his father’s representative would be to the manor at Poling. The estate had changed hands several times over the years, and his father had mentioned that the current family were relatively recent occupants. Cormant had vetted them and arranged everything, but a visit from the overlord’s son would not go amiss. He had delayed too long already.

  He questioned his steward. “It’s a Norman family, I assume?”

  Cormant spread out the pertinent documents on the trestle table in the tiny Map Room. “Oui, Alphonse Revandel is recently retired from some prestigious position at King William Rufus’ court, apparently with a generous purse from our new monarch. His references were impeccable.”

  Adam traced a finger over the royal seal. “Hard to fault a king, though I imagine Henry wanted to clear out many of his brother’s functionaries.”

  Cormant chuckled. “Indeed.”

  “Children?”

  Cormant held up three fingers. “Three, I believe. A widower with two sons and a daughter.”

  Adam brushed his knuckles back and forth against his cheek. “I have spoken to Vincent Lallement. He agrees we should seek a suitable husband for Rosamunda. I will ask her to accompany me. Are the Revandel sons of marriageable age?”

  Cormant talked on, but Adam did not make the effort to understand, his gut churning at the thought of Rosamunda in another man’s bed.

  * * *

  Rosamunda held the reins as she had been shown. The sweet palfrey—a gift from Adam—followed Nox out of the courtyard. Since Nox was named for the night, she deemed it clever to christen her steed Lux—light. Adam had rolled his eyes.

  She loved riding. Adam declared she was a born horsewoman.

  Paulina refused to leave East Preston, and Denis opted to stay with her.

  Accompanying Adam to Poling was an adventure Rosamunda relished, thrilled he had asked her. She filled her lungs with fresh air, trying to put a name to the scents. There was a hint of the sea that lessened as they rode north. From time to time she caught the aroma of a certain tree, or wildflower. Denis seemed to be knowledgeable on many subjects. She would consult him regarding the names.

  Then there was Adam’s scent, one she recognised every time he entered a room. Clean, wholesome, minty. She suspected that, like her brothers, he was in the habit of chewing spearmint leaves.

  She was afraid she had annoyed him with endless questions about the family they were on their way to visit. Vincent and Lucien had never mentioned them. She resolved not to badger him further. It must be difficult to ride and concentrate on her lips at the same time.

  They continued on for a while in silence, before Adam glanced over at her. “You are too quiet, miss.”

  He flushed when the inappropriateness of his words dawned on him.

  She shrugged, drawing a finger across her lips.

  He frowned. “Why?”

  Her heart raced. Dare she reveal she had guessed his secret? She pointed one finger at him, then two to her eyes. “Watch the road.”

  He shifted his weight in the saddle. “It’s an easy path, completely flat. The only turn we make is west at Angmering. The manor house there is one of oncle Hugh’s.”

  The uncomfortable silence continued. The mention of her hero’s name gave her
courage. She touched Adam’s arm, wanting him to look her in the face. He turned his head quickly, his eyes narrowed. She swallowed hard, pointed to him, then covered her ears, shaking her head. “You cannot hear.”

  She had trusted it would be a relief to him that she knew, and that it mattered not a whit, but he clenched his jaw and scowled. “You have guessed correctly. I am deaf.”

  He urged Nox forward to ride ahead, ending their conversation.

  * * *

  Adam took several deep breaths in an effort to drown out the thudding in his ears. What irony that a deaf man heard his own heartbeat.

  A cruel fate had brought him Rosamunda, the one woman who cared naught that he was deaf. And for her, who better to take as husband than a man unable to hear?

  It would appear they were destined to be together. She no doubt believed it. There was an undeniable attraction between them. She made no secret of her affection for him, and he loved her smile, her curiosity, her untamed hair, her body, though he was incapable of fulfilling a woman’s deepest physical need.

  His throat tightened as the wind carried her perfume to his nostrils, the elusive scent that was pure Rosamunda. It reminded him of something he couldn’t name.

  Her anger burned into his back. She probably believed her revelation had caused his rude reaction.

  He toyed with the notion of returning to East Preston. The tenants had not been informed of his visit, but he dreaded the moment when the astute Rosamunda would inevitably deduce that the journey was in part to ascertain if either Revandel son might make her a suitable husband.

  She would believe he disdained her. Nothing was further from the truth. The love he felt was pure, from the heart.

  * * *

  Rosamunda had trusted freedom would bring her nothing but joy, but now she felt slightly faint and nauseous after Adam’s rejection. Revealing what was in one’s heart was evidently not the best course of action in the real world.

  She had assumed he would be relieved, but he had not told her he was deaf. The thought must have occurred to him that his affliction would not lessen her regard, and might bring them closer.

  She felt more alone and isolated than during her confinement. She wished she had not accompanied Adam—though he had been somewhat insistent. Better to have stayed with Paulina. Perhaps her sister had the right of it. She would have to guard her feelings more carefully.

  She had fancied Adam was attracted to her—how foolish. He was from a rich and powerful family, a strikingly handsome man any woman would want, despite his deafness. She had quickly forgotten that her own mother had rejected her because of her muteness. There was no reason for Adam de Montbryce to feel any differently.

  The sooner Kingston Gorse was rebuilt, the faster she and Paulina might return to the only home they had ever known. Vincent and Lucien would protect them.

  Instant Dislike

  Letyce Revandel pouted as she strolled listlessly through the garden of Poling Manor with her maidservant, a kerchief guarding her sensitive nose against the ragweed pollen.

  The sound of horses approaching caught her attention. Visitors at last.

  Her father had buried her alive in this godforsaken place in Sussex, far from the court life she enjoyed in Westminster. He berated her endlessly about the need to marry, but she had no intention of tying herself to one man.

  If her father became aware how many beaux pursued her, he might die of an apoplexy. And the gullible fool believed her twin brothers were saints to be emulated. He knew nothing of the money Winrod and Dareau had frittered away dicing, wenching and drinking.

  Bored to death at Poling, she hurried to see who was arriving, ignoring the clucking censure of the prissy maidservant hired by her father.

  Her spirits rose at the sight of a tall, dark-haired knight mounted atop an impressive black stallion, in his wake a squadron of men-at-arms.

  Belatedly, she noticed a blonde woman riding alongside the knight. No competition there. The girl was tall and pretty, but certainly nothing to compare with Letyce’s lush curves. And her hair! What an unruly mess. Perhaps his sister.

  Letyce thrust out her breasts and fluttered her eyelashes as the knight reined his horse to a halt in front of her. He dismounted with graceful ease. She had never seen such long, powerful legs. Her heart skipped a beat as desire spiralled in her belly.

  The knight bowed. “Demoiselle Revandel?”

  She nodded demurely. “I am Letyce Revandel.”

  “I am Adam de Montbryce. My father, Antoine, is the overlord of Poling Manor. I have come to meet your father. Is he at home?”

  He stared at her mouth, obviously already falling under her spell. “He is, my lord de Montbryce.” She shoved her maidservant. “Violette will announce your arrival.”

  The woman sulked and glared, but went off to do her mistress’s bidding.

  Letyce held out her hand. “I will accompany you into the house, if you wish.”

  Montbryce bent to graze a kiss on her knuckles. His warm lips sent a shiver of anticipation up her thighs.

  He proffered his arm. She put her hand atop it, relishing his solid strength, tempted to knead her fingers into the muscles. She smiled coyly and took a step towards the house.

  But he turned to the girl standing by the palfrey she had ridden. “Letyce Revandel, may I present Rosamunda Lallement, a neighbor of mine.”

  Good, the chit is not his wife.

  The girl bowed her head slightly and mouthed something incoherent. Obviously an imbecile.

  Montbryce offered his free arm to the blonde. “She is mute,” he explained.

  It took enormous effort for Letyce to suppress the snort of laughter that bubbled up in her throat.

  * * *

  Rosamunda took an instant dislike to the red-haired woman who greeted them. She had learned the word harlot from her brothers’ descriptions of some women at court, and this Letyce Revandel fit the word perfectly. At first sight of Adam, she had quickly dropped the kerchief that had covered her face.

  Her sneer upon learning of Rosamunda’s muteness was proof enough that Paulina was right. They would encounter nothing but prejudice outside the safety of their home. She wished she had stayed at East Preston.

  The harlot’s eyes had popped out of her head upon espying Adam. Rosamunda saw through her thinly-veiled attempts to keep his attention.

  Jealousy roared through her. She wanted to tear Letyce Revandel limb from limb. What was the other word Lucien was fond of? Ah, yes. The hore leaned into Adam as they walked, ignoring her completely. Rosamunda put her free hand over her ear to block out the swish of Letyce’s skirts against Adam’s leg.

  She was older than he was. Certainly older than Rosamunda.

  His voice caught her off guard. “Are you ill, Rosamunda? Does your ear pain you?”

  He seemed genuinely concerned, but her wits failed her. She took her hand away from her ear, shaking her head as she gazed at the ground. He must not see the tears welling in her eyes.

  * * *

  Adam understood Letyce’s blatant signals. There was a time his male ego, not to mention his shaft, would have risen to the challenge, but now her forward behavior left him cold. Compared to the innocent Rosamunda, this woman was a harlot.

  He had managed to understand most of her constant chatter by concentrating closely on her lips. It was important he establish good relations with these new occupants.

  It grieved him that Letyce Revandel had greeted Rosamunda rudely. She would probably switch off her suffocating charm when she discovered he suffered an impairment.

  As they neared the main doorway, two young men appeared, twins by the look of them. Adam judged they were younger than their sister, but not by much. They had Letyce’s red hair, but she had been spared the prominent nose they had evidently inherited. The feature, while not rendering them ugly, robbed them of any chance to be considered handsome.

  They were town boys, tall and lanky, but lacking the muscled body of a knight. He sus
pected they did not spend time practicing swordplay and other military pursuits. The only weapons in evidence were daggers tucked into the belts of the identical red velvet tunics they wore.

  He’d a mind to forget sizing them up as potential husband material for Rosamunda, but Denis had taught him that looks were sometimes deceiving. He would reserve judgement.

  Both youths ignored him, their eyes raking over Rosamunda.

  Her hand tightened on his arm as she leaned into him. He relished the swell of her breast pressed against his bicep, but he bristled at the brazen way the Revandels looked at her. Possessiveness twisted under his ribs.

  Scowling, Letyce drew their attention away from Rosamunda. “Milord de Montbryce, may I present my brothers, Winrod and Dareau Revandel.”

  Both men ignored him, until Letyce remarked that he was the son of their overlord. Then they became effusive, bowing ridiculously low, as if he were King Henry. The knot in his belly tightened.

  “Milord de Montbryce,” one of them gushed. “Dareau and I are your humble servants. Had we known you were coming—”

  Dareau shouldered his brother out of the way, reaching for Rosamunda’s hand. “And who is this lovely lady?”

  Adam gripped the hilt of his sword, bracing for another insult. “Rosamunda Lallement is from Kingston Gorse. The manor house burned and she and her sister are staying at East Preston while her home is rebuilt.”

  Smiling broadly, Rosamunda withdrew her hand, but to his relief said nothing.

  Clever girl. The Revandel brothers would not recognize the false smile for what it was. Rosamunda was a quick study in the ways of the world. For a brief moment, he pitied whichever of these men might become her husband, but pushed the unpleasant thought away.