The Rose Red Bride JK2 (32 page)

Vivienne was dismayed to see her vibrant aunt look so unhappy. “Elizabeth says that mention of your name infuriates Uncle Tynan. She suspects that he loves you.”

Rosamunde’s smile turned wry. “Then he has an uncommon way of showing as much.” She turned away then, her manner purposeful. “You are welcome to use my cabin this day and this night, for I will not sleep until our course is clear. Lock the portal and do whatsoever you will.” She cast a piercing glance over her shoulder. “I will plead ignorance of your deeds to Alexander, to be certain. You are old enough and clever enough to make your own choices, for it is you who will have to live with the consequences.”

Vivienne paid the warning no heed, but merely thanked her aunt. She was certain that a son would persuade Erik to at least harbor affection for her.

And there was but one way to create that son.

* * *

Vivienne found Erik standing with Ruari while the older man heaved his very innards over the side of the ship. The wind had become colder, the rain grew in intensity, and Ruari looked grim indeed. He still held fast to his saddlebag, though Vivienne supposed it must hold the last of his possessions.

She halted beside them just as the older man bent over the rail once more. Erik spared her no more than a glance.

“How ill is he?” she asked, guessing that she would have to begin any discussion they had.

“Ill enough to ensure his silence,” Erik said with wry humor, his gaze lingering upon Vivienne when she smiled slightly.

“Do you feel better or worse, Ruari?” she asked with concern. “The storm subsides and the sea grows more steady with every moment.”

“Even at its most calm, it is too much for me!” Ruari wailed, and gripped the rail. He breathed heavily and his face was yet pale, but he seemed better than he had been before.

“There is cheese and bread and some ale below,” Vivienne suggested. “A piece of bread might improve your state.”

Ruari moaned at the very prospect and coughed anew, although he conjured very little.

“You have not eaten that much of late,” Erik said. “Surely you are empty by now.”

“I thank you for the jest,” Ruari retorted. “Perhaps you might explain the truth of it to my belly.”

“It might be better to return to the hold,” Erik suggested in his turn. “A bucket would serve you well enough now, and you would have less chance of becoming ill from the cold, as well.”

“I favor it here,” Ruari said stubbornly.

“And I do not,” Erik replied. “Yet I dare not leave you alone. Come below, Ruari. I vow to find you a bucket that suits you well.”

Ruari cast him a dark glance. “You make a jest of an old man’s discomfort.”

“I do no such thing. I but ensure your welfare as best I can. Think of the lady, if naught else. Doubtless she will be determined to remain with you, as well.”

Ruari granted Vivienne a baleful stare. “There is no need for you to linger here,” he said and she smiled.

“I fret for your welfare,” she said with all honesty. To her pleasure, Ruari’s features brightened.

“Then perhaps I might be persuaded to come below,” he said, with one last glance at the railing. He shook a finger at Erik. “It must be a large bucket, to be sure, for I will not show myself a poor guest, even upon a ship.”

“Ah, so you are smitten with Rosamunde,” Erik teased, to Vivienne’s surprise. “I knew you merely had to meet a woman sufficiently bold to capture your affection for all time.”

Ruari straightened and his eyes gleamed, as doubtless Erik had intended. “I but hold Rosamunde in respect, the respect due to any soul sufficiently intrepid to brave that weather to aid another.”

“I suspect ’tis more than that,” Erik said mildly.

“She is a veritable angel!” Ruari huffed, launching into a tirade as if he were fully hale once more. “She came to find me, when you lot were busy amongst yourselves. She risked life and limb to ensure my survival and I am not such a knave that I would insult such generosity by humbling myself in the hold of her ship. Why, this ship is full of fine materials, of gold and silk and relics beyond belief. I would not be so base a knave as to sully such beauty, no less to jeopardize her trade, upon that you can rely.”

“If you are sufficiently well to lecture, then you are sufficiently well to come below,” Erik replied, though he took the older man’s elbow to steady him as they made their way across the slippery deck.

Vivienne took Ruari’s other arm. Ruari was somewhat unsteady upon his feet, and he slipped once. Erik’s hand was firm beneath his elbow, though, and the older man did not fall. All the same, he seized the lip of the hold with undisguised relief.

Ruari looked suddenly up at Erik through the rain, his eyes bright. “You repay your father’s debt to me, against all expectation.”

“What nonsense do you speak?” Erik asked, his manner kindly.

“I served him well, served him without complaint for more than forty years, but on his deathbed, William Sinclair noted that he had never had the chance to repay the debt. He noted that I had never fallen sick, that I had never been wounded, that he had never had the chance to offer a courtesy to me.”

Ruari heaved a sigh and cast a rueful glance about himself. “I suppose if we had journeyed upon a ship then he might have had his chance, but always he lingered close to Blackleith.” The older man stared at Erik and almost smiled. “I thank you, lad, for showing kindness when others might have turned away. You are more than the measure of your father, upon that you can rely.”

Ruari descended the ladder then, making slow time in his unsteadiness. Vivienne’s hair whipped loose of her braid and the wind stung her face. She watched Erik, seeing that he was touched by the older man’s words.

When he gestured that she should descend the ladder next, she laid a hand upon his arm and leaned close to whisper. “Rosamunde offers her cabin, that we may strive to create your son.”

Erik looked to be shocked. “You told her of this?”

Vivienne straightened. “My aunt knows what it is to be persuaded of the merit of another’s objective, and she knows the import of having given one’s word.”

Erik looked away, then back to Vivienne. The rain made his hair look a darker hue of blond. His eyes seemed a more vibrant blue than they had before and Vivienne again sensed his vitality.

She did not doubt that he found her suggestion alluring, though she did not understand why he hesitated to accept it.

“Do you not desire that son?”

“I ask you only to consider what you do afore you do it.”

“I have already pledged a year and a day to this objective.”

He watched her still and she knew he was unpersuaded.

“Why did you bring me with you, if you did not mean to come to my bed?”

“Because your womb might already bear fruit, and you are my responsibility until we know for certain.”

It was hardly a sentiment to warm her heart. Vivienne refused to be swayed, all the same, for his gaze was too vivid for him to be as indifferent as his tone implied.

She reached out and laid a hand upon Erik’s arm, feeling him tense when she did so. She held his gaze and let her fingertips trace a circle of a caress upon his flesh. She did not know how to seduce a man, but she tried to show her enthusiasm for the deed, and used the slow stroke that he had used to awaken her passion.

Erik swallowed visibly and she thought he grit his teeth. “There is no need for this deed,” he said. “We may leave matters as they stand. If you bear a child, I will claim it; if not, you may remain with your aunt.”

“I would not rely merely upon what we have already done.” Vivienne eased closer to Erik, letting her breast rub against his forearm. Her kirtle was still wet, her skin sufficiently cold that her nipples had beaded. She slid her breasts across the muscled strength of his arm, a move which sent a tingle of desire over her own flesh, and heard him catch his breath.

“Come to my bed, Erik Sinclair.” she whispered and noted how a heat kindled in his gaze.

“I should not.”

“I am your best chance to create a son with all haste,” she murmured. Vivienne ran her fingertip across his lips, her gaze unswerving from his. She felt a tremor slide through him and shivered herself at her own bold manner. She turned then and descended the ladder, hoping against hope that he would accept her offer.

Rosamunde looked up from her place in the hold and nodded once. Vivienne was certain that her aunt would return to the deck to survey sky and sea. Meanwhile, Ruari rubbed a cloth through his wet hair and coddled a stout bucket by his side. A deeply wrought brazier smoked, filling the hold with heat even as its smoke stung Vivienne’s eyes. Many of the sailors slumbered or whittled in the hold, taking their leisure while they could.

Padraig rose from where he crouched beside the brazier, then offered Ruari a steaming cup of some concoction. Ruari sniffed tentatively before accepting the brew with a grateful smile.

Vivienne waited at the base of the ladder, fearful of what Erik would do. Would he reject her after she had been so bold? He stepped down beside her and spared only the merest glance to the other men, his gaze lingering upon Ruari. The older man waved as if to reassure him. That Erik did not hasten to Ruari’s side was all the encouragement Vivienne needed.

“I desire you,” she whispered and saw the fire light in Erik’s eyes, just as Rosamunde had foretold. She took his hand in hers, smiling at the disparity of size between the two of them, then tugged him toward Rosamunde’s chamber.

To her delight, he followed, his eyes so deep a blue that they fairly smoldered.

* * *

Erik was enchanted anew and he did not care. Vivienne’s hair was stained dark from the rain, and water glistened on her cheeks as dewdrops will on the petals of a flower. She secured the door of the chamber behind herself and leaned against it, eying him through her lashes. He was fascinated that she could look both shy and bold, both innocent and provocative, but she managed the deed with ease.

He had thought himself strong enough to leave her be for this journey, but her desire for him, even if it was feigned, was impossible to deny. Resistance to her charms was futile, when his body was already upon her side of the argument.

And indeed, he reminded himself, the damage was done. Her maidenhead was gone in truth. There was naught more to be lost in accepting her invitation, and only the chance of reward in that son.

Or so Erik told himself.

Rosamunde’s chamber was simple in structure, a mere cabin secured from the rest of the hold. The walls were curved and wrought of wood - as was all of the ship - and its entirety rocked in a soothing manner. A pair of lanterns were secured to the wall at the far end, the flames well away from the wall and the receptacle for the oil too small to cause much risk of fire if spilled. Erik could hear the rain drumming steadily on the deck overhead, which only made the room seem like more of a cozy haven.

There was little in the chamber, save a bed built into the frame of the ship. The lip upon it was sufficiently large that one would not be cast out of it in the roughest sea. The bed was large enough to accommodate two persons, though one of Erik’s height would have to curl up to fit.

The mattress was thick and clearly filled with down, an indulgence that spoke of Rosamunde’s love of luxury. Dozens of pelts were piled on the bed, their silky furs a marvelous jumble of hues. Erik could not identify the animals that must have been once been adorned with several of them, for no wolf or squirrel had ever been graced with such stripes and spots.

Bed linens of velvet and silk were folded at one end, drapes of finely woven wool could be drawn to make another barrier against the hold, and pillows of all shapes and sizes spilled from the bed to the floor. They stood in silence and stared at this marvel of a bed, while Erik imagined what they might do upon it. Indeed, the very air seemed to steam with the heat of his desire.

But he would wait for the lady to invite him between her thighs once more. That she hesitated so quickly after her bold invitation made him doubt that she truly did desire him. There would be no charge against him later that he had claimed her against her will.

Erik would wait, if it nigh killed him.

A rap at the door made them both jump, then Vivienne unfastened the latch. Rosamunde stood there, a knowing smile curving her lips. She offered a steaming bucket of water and a large irregularly shaped golden ball. It seemed to be porous.

“A sponge,” she said, noting Erik’s puzzlement. “And water to bathe. There is attar of roses in the drawer beneath the bed, if you desire scent, and honey, as well, if you desire enticement.”

Honey?

Erik took the bucket, looking into the depths of the steaming water as he considered what could be done with honey. Vivienne took the sponge. She plunged it into the water, then squeezed it out, loosing a cascade of water. She laughed then and repeated her deed, clearly as unfamiliar with this marvel as he.

Rosamunde smiled, mischief making her eyes sparkle. “I shall trouble you only with food,” she said, then winked and pulled the portal closed once more.

Vivienne took a deep breath that made her breasts swell, then glanced up at Erik. An echo of Rosamunde’s mischief danced in her eyes.

“Honey,” she repeated, then smiled wickedly. “Though I should like to bathe before such enticement.” Then she turned the latch to lock the door.

Erik eased the bucket into a brace he had spotted on the floor, then faced Vivienne once more. She regarded him with a smile that warmed him to his toes and before he could speak, she raised a hand to the clasp of her cloak.

“You have always led me to passion,” she whispered. “Now, I would similarly coax you.” She let her cloak drop to the floor, her gaze unswerving. Erik knew that he had no need of coaxing, for his body was fully prepared already, but he let Vivienne set the pace. She planted a fingertip in the middle of his chest. “You have but to stand and watch. I will do the rest.”

Erik realized then that Vivienne meant to disrobe before him and his mouth went dry. He had no need of honey, no need of more than the gleam in Vivienne’s eyes, the inviting smile that curved her lips.