Midnight Eyes, Brophy, Sarah [love story books to read txt] 📗

to tell anyone, but even as she had denied the possibility, a growing sense of wonder had consumed her. For a moment, she had actually felt a quickening of life and hope in her own soul.

Of course, that died the moment she recalled that her child was not only a living symbol of just how close she had come to actually believing in Robert, but also another living hostage to fate. Roger was circling ever closer now and any child of hers would be destined to suffer her fate.

She couldn’t save it, any more than she could save herself.

Sometimes she felt disgusted that her body had betrayed her utterly and at other times the knowledge that the baby would experience her fate was a cold pain in her chest. But there was nothing she could do, so she ignored the child, ignored Mary’s concerns. Or, at least, that’s what she tried to do.

The contrary child seemed to take every opportunity to remind her of its existence, as if it was refusing to be denied out of being. Already, the child was too much like its father. She clenched her hands on her lap and bit down on her bottom lip. No matter how she hated it, hated him, all of her thoughts kept returning to him. The worst of it was that she couldn’t stop herself from softening a little as memories assaulted her.

She could almost hear the deep rumble of his infrequent laughter floating all the way from London to warm her as sunshine never could. She remembered his rough kindnesses and clumsy gentleness. She had even caught herself smiling at memories of his flaring temper. It was a smile that died as those harmless memories brought more dangerous ones with them, memories of the cleansing depths of their passion. In Robert’s arms she had felt herself washed free of all her brother’s corruption.

For a time she had actually dared to believe that somehow he had given her back all that she had lost when she had looked into Roger’s eyes that day in the tower and seen his perverse desires for the first time. But such beliefs were dangerous. They burned away a little of her numbness and no matter how she tried to fight it, Robert intruded. He had taken possession of her dreams. Each night, she dreamed dreams of once more being held securely in his arms as he woke her body to all the desires of the flesh. She half-remembered, half-imagined, the feel of his large body as it covered hers, his turgid erection scorching her with the intensity of his desire. When she woke she felt aching and hollow, her arms clutching nothing but cold, empty bedding.

It was a torture to know that her body and soul called out for a man who would betray her, but no matter what she did, hope kept sneaking under her guard.

It was hope that was going to kill, doubtlessly just as Roger had planned it would. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Nothing at all.

She was dragged from a dreamless sleep by the sound of Mary breathlessly calling her name.

“What?” she managed to mutter groggily, trying to free herself from the hands that were ruthlessly pulling her into a sitting position as if she had no more substance than a lifeless doll.

“My lady, you must come at once!” Mary yelled frantically as she threw a robe over Imogen’s shoulders and began pulling her to her feet. “It’s an emergency.”

Imogen was hustled out of the chamber’s doorway before she even had time to protest.

Not that protesting would have done her any good, she thought sleepily as she was propelled barefooted over the Keep’s cold floors. Mary had obviously run mad.

She held on to Imogen’s hand tightly as they ran down the stairs, but even as Imogen’s dazed mind screamed that this was madness, weeks of mindless acquiescence had robbed her of any ability to fight it.

Mary dragged her into the silent hall, then let go of her hand, leaving her stranded and bewildered. For the first time in an age she felt rage boil sluggishly to life inside her. She straightened her shoulders, and tried to marshal the calm that she wasn’t quite feeling right at that second.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Mary? Why, exactly, am I not in my bed?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid that is my fault, my lady. Gareth didn’t think it was a good idea for me to present myself to you in your bedchamber. He seemed to think it might be compromising somehow. God knows why, I don’t think I remember even how to compromise a lady anymore.”

Imogen quickly pulled her robe more securely around her shoulders before turning to the decidedly masculine voice she couldn’t identify through her confusion.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice rising to a squeak on the last syllable.

“I’m deeply hurt, my lady. I’ve only been gone a relatively little while and already you seem to have forgotten me. How fickle art woman!” the voice chided softly.

“Matthew?” she asked hesitantly, then a warm rush of welcome filled her as she felt her cold hands being held in his arthritic ones. “Matthew!”

Robert had come home, she realized with bewildered confusion. She hated him, she told herself sternly, but even as she thought it, her foolish heart skipped a beat.

“My lady,” Matthew said solemnly as he placed a kiss on her knuckles and she could tell by the cracks of his protesting joints that the old man knelt before her.

She reached out a hand and groped for his shoulder. “No, no, please don’t do that,” she said, hauling him back to his feet.

“We don’t have time for this folly,” Gareth ground out with exasperation. “We have to get her out of here as quickly as possible.”

Imogen’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Gareth, you’re here too? Just what is going on? What are you talking about? Are you here, Robert?”

An embarrassed silence was her only