Reclaimed By Her Rebel Knight. Jenni Fletcher

of water on the roof and against the windowpane seemed to echo all around them.

      ‘Your uncle is a good man.’ Her husband—it was still hard to think of him as Matthew—spoke again after a few minutes.

      ‘He’s been very kind.’

      ‘Your mother was his sister, I understand?’

      ‘Yes. They were always very close.’

      ‘What about your cousins? Are you close to them, too?’

      ‘Oh, yes—’ she smiled with enthusiasm ‘—they’re more like brothers and sisters to me. I love them all dearly, especially Isabella.’

      ‘I’m glad.’ He gave a satisfied-looking nod. ‘I hoped that would be the case.’

      ‘You hoped...?’ The words drew her up short. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Just that I thought you’d prefer living here to Wintercott.’

      She stared at him in confusion. Wintercott was his family’s main residence, but what did that have to do with anything? ‘I don’t understand.’

      He shrugged as if the subject wasn’t particularly important. ‘There was some discussion about where you should live after our marriage. My father suggested his household, but I thought you’d prefer being with your own family. I didn’t want you to be lonely, so I asked your uncle to take you home with him when I left England.’ He nodded again. ‘I’m glad that I made the right decision.’

      ‘Oh...’ She pursed her lips, resisting the urge to start another argument by asking why she’d had to leave Lacelby at all. It was true that given the choice between his father and her uncle then she would have chosen the latter, but neither had been what she’d really wanted. Even so, the fact that he’d put some thought into where she might be happiest made her resentment diminish a little.

      ‘You wanted to remain at Lacelby?’ His expression shifted suddenly, turning to one of comprehension. ‘That’s what you meant about being able to manage an estate at fourteen?’

      She hesitated. No doubt her aunt would tell her to deny it and say that whatever decision he’d made had been the right one, but he looked as if he genuinely wanted to know the truth. Besides, she wasn’t that good a liar.

      ‘It was my home. When I agreed to marry you, it never occurred to me that I’d have to leave.’

      ‘Ah...’ he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees ‘...so that’s why you’re angry with me?’

      ‘I’m not...’ She bit her tongue on the lie. ‘Yes. You never asked me what I wanted. I wasn’t a child and I could have stayed and managed Lacelby on my own. My mother raised me to do it.’

      ‘Indeed?’

      ‘Yes!’ She narrowed her eyes at his sceptically raised eyebrow. ‘She ran the whole estate for months on end whenever my father was away on campaign. He called her his rock. She didn’t need any help and she taught me everything she knew.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t want to be sent away.’

      ‘I see. Were you homesick, then?’

      ‘Of course! I’d just lost my parents...’ She faltered, trying to force away the hollow feeling in her chest, the hole that threatened to open up and swallow her whenever she thought of her mother and father.

      ‘It must have been hard for you losing them both so suddenly.’ His voice was softer and more sympathetic than she would have imagined it could be. ‘It was some kind of illness, I understand?’

      ‘A fever, yes.’ She could feel his gaze on her face. ‘It was during one of my father’s visits home and swept through Lacelby like a fire. So many of us had it. I survived, but my parents died within a few days of each other.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘I still miss them. Even after five years, some wounds do not heal.’

      ‘True.’ There was a hint of some powerful emotion in his voice. ‘And leaving Lacelby made it worse?’

      ‘I thought that my heart would break,’ she answered truthfully. ‘I’d had a happy childhood and my home was all that I had left of my parents. The day I rode away, I thought I’d never be happy again. I’ve been homesick ever since.’

      ‘But surely you’ve visited?’ He sounded faintly surprised.

      ‘No. My uncle thought that your father might not appreciate the intrusion.’

      ‘Did my father say so?’

      She jumped, alarmed by the sudden note of anger in his voice. ‘Perhaps... I don’t know.’

      He leaned back in the window seat, the lines between his brows deepening. ‘Forgive me, I ought to have considered how hard leaving your home might be for you. To be honest, I assumed you were grieving and that your family were best placed to take care of you, but perhaps I ought to have allowed you more time. That said, I stand by my decision. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable leaving you at Lacelby alone. I did—do—believe that fourteen is too young to manage an estate.’

      ‘You still could have asked.’

      The retort was out before she could stop herself, but to her surprise, he only nodded.

      ‘You’re right, I should have. It was a difficult time in my life, too, but that’s no excuse. My only defence is that I thought I was doing the right thing. If it made you unhappy, then I’m truly sorry.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      She leaned back, too, grateful for that concession at least. Much as she still resented his presumption that she’d been too young to manage Lacelby on her own, she had to admit she would have been lonely growing up without her cousins. He was right about that and he had apologised, and at least they weren’t butting heads any more. In fact, now she thought of it, aside from one brief outburst about his father, he’d barely scowled since they’d sat down! She tilted her head to one side, regarding him with new eyes. Somehow they’d gone from arguing to understanding in a few minutes. His whole manner seemed to have mellowed, including his voice which now sounded as deep and smooth as gold velvet. Somehow it took the edge off his sternness and made her feel inexplicably light-headed.

      ‘Perhaps I ought to have asked more questions about our marriage, too.’ He met her gaze again, his own faintly troubled. ‘I was told that you’d given your consent willingly.’

      ‘I did.’ It was her turn to frown. ‘That is, I knew my position was a precarious one and it wasn’t safe for me to remain unmarried. If I’d been born a boy or had a brother, then it would have been different, but as it was...’ She shrugged. ‘It was made clear to me that an heiress cannot remain unwed.’

      ‘You did not really wish to marry, then?’

      ‘No.’ She bit her lip, wondering if she were taking honesty a little too far, though fortunately he didn’t look angry. ‘I would have preferred to wait, to choose a husband for myself when I came of age, but I knew there was no choice.’

      ‘No choice...’ He repeated the words softly. ‘In that case, I’ll offer you one now, a way out if you still want it.’

      ‘A way out?’ Her body seemed to jerk upright of its own volition. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Since our marriage hasn’t yet been consummated, it could still be annulled.’

      She was vaguely aware of her mouth dropping open. An annulment? It was almost impossible to believe that he was offering her freedom so easily and yet he appeared to be serious. ‘You would agree to that?’

      ‘If it’s what you truly wanted then, yes, I would. Since I ought to have consulted you five years ago, the least I can do is consult you now.’

      ‘But what about my fortune? My land?’