The Greatest Lover in All England (31 page)

She ducked out from under his arm. “You're dirty.”

“I've been a hero this day.” He tossed off his cap, cape, and doublet. “Are you impressed?”

“Impressed? That you threw yourself into danger? Impressed is not quite the word I would use.” Her eyes sparked as she crept further from the light. “Do you often bring your ladies here?”

“I've never brought a lady here.” He followed. “Most ladies would be disgusted.”

“Most ladies would follow you anywhere.”

“Because I'm so charming and good-looking?”

“Because you're so modest.”

“Is that another one of my virtues which attracted you?”

She swung around to see if he was jesting, and relaxed when she realized he was. A smile nudged at her mouth, and he murmured, “That's better.” He dragged two piles of blankets down off a shelf. Extending his hand, he offered it, palm up. “Would you like to sit down?”

She looked at the hand, then at him, then at the
hand. Slowly, she extended her own hand and put it in his. Sensitive as a whisper, her skin slid across his, over the calluses, over the lines and the mounts. Her fingers curled around his, slipping between in an act of mating. Like a connoisseur of Spanish sherry, he closed his eyes fully to appreciate the sensation, then opened them to see she had closed hers. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted, and each deep breath brought her breasts close.

Her magnificent, unmanly breasts, which had first betrayed her to him. How cocksure he'd been at that first meeting! How easy he had thought her seduction would be! And how she'd taken him apart, piece by piece, and then put him together into a different man. A better man.

A man who planned to seduce her in a storage chamber.

“We should talk,” he said hoarsely.

“We should.”

She sank onto her pile of blankets, and he sank onto his. He took her other hand in his, expecting that the reaction would be less—more like holding hands and less like making love.

Again, it was like the first time they'd touched. Their gazes met and clung. It seemed as intimate as a kiss.

“Talk,” he said.

“Aye.”

What did he want to talk about? Oh…“You left me.”

She tried to take her hands back, but he tightened his fingers.

“Talk,” he urged.

“You lied to me.”

“Never.”

“You didn't tell me about Sir Danny.”

He didn't need her reproach to feel guilty. “I wanted you to be safe.”

“Sometimes there are more important things than safety.”

“I knew that. I know it now.” He took a breath because he didn't want to tell her, but he had to. She had to know. “If I had it to do over, I'd do the same thing.”

Her laughter almost knocked him over. Her body did as she skimmed her arms around his neck and leaned forward. He landed on the blankets with her on his chest. “I know that.” She laughed again, hugging him close. “And I'd do what I did. Do you think our baby will be as stubborn as we are?”

She suddenly weighed as much as a horse. A big horse. He couldn't get his breath to speak, and when he did, it sounded more like a howl. “You're…going…to…”

“Nay.
We're
going to.”

“Have a babe?”

“Didn't you always know it?”

Did he know it? “Aye.” Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and she wiped them with her sleeve. “I never doubted we had made a babe. Somehow I knew the babe would precede the marriage.”

She tried to sit up, but he pulled her back down. “Do you mind?”

“That people will talk?” He held her nose to nose. “People will talk about me marrying an actress. They'll talk that I married Lady Rosalyn Bellot to secure my lands. They'll talk about me as long as I'm a favorite of the queen's, and they'll talk about you because you're beautiful, because you act like a dream, and you're the lost heir. They're going to talk about us all our lives. An early babe will be as a mere nothing.”

“But what about you? 'Tis you who feared an early
child, not for what people would say, not even for the child, but for the proof that you carried blood tainted by your birth.”

She knew him too well. He had loved his father, yet at the same time, Tony despised his father for his weakness and had sworn never to emulate him. He'd despised his father for allowing himself to be seduced by a woman as cold and ruthless as the north wind. His father had been a fool, and Tony had feared being one, too.

But to be seduced by Rosie…ah, that was not a seduction, but a feast of the senses. To be seduced by Rosie was not weakness, but good taste. “I'm proud to be the father of your child.”

“
Our
child.”

“
Our
child.” The slender body atop his relaxed, and he added, “But we'll wed in the morning.”

The vibration of her laughter warmed him. “Aye, we'll wed in the morning.” She gently touched her lips to his, and each breath gave him life, each contact moved his blood, and the quick, shy stroke of her tongue unlaced her bodice without his volition. Rosie's kiss was a mighty instrument.

When the buzzing in his ears cleared, he heard her say, “Where will we sleep tonight?”

His hearing was impaired and his eyeballs fogged from their combined heat, but his fingers seemed nimble enough as he removed layer after layer of her clothing. “
Will
we sleep tonight?”

She shivered. “It's cold in here.”

“We have blankets.”

“Someone might come in.”

“I have my sword and dagger.” He grinned as he freed her breasts at last. They'd changed with the advancement of pregnancy, but he'd always recognize Rosie's nipples. “And you have your purse.”

“True.” Leaning over, she blew out the candles one by one, but he stopped her when she would have blown out the last one. “Aren't you afraid of the dark anymore?”

“Nay, I have my talismans. My father's ring.” She touched the chain around her neck. “The babe in my belly.” She took his hand and laid it on the slight mound. “And my cavalier, the second-greatest lover in all England.”

Furious at this challenge, he demanded, “Who's the first?”

She slid into his arms, smooth and slow, then leaned forward to blow out the last candle. “Me.”

Lord Nottingham
and Sir Robert Sidney did indeed have to bring cannon and kegs of powder from the Tower and threaten to blow up Essex House before the earl of Essex would surrender. A trial followed. Essex and Southampton were, of course, found guilty.

Although Queen Elizabeth allowed the earl of Southampton to be condemned to life in the Tower, Essex was condemned to death. On the morning of February 25, Essex was beheaded.

The queen was playing the virginals when a messenger brought the news. She stopped playing. No one said a word. After a time she began to play again.

 

Lady Rosalyn, daughter of the earl of Sadler, and her husband, Sir Anthony Rycliffe, were blessed with a large, healthy baby girl on September 29, 1601, after eight months of wedded bliss. They named her Elizabeth
Honora Jean Ann Rycliffe, and only one man ever commented about her early arrival.

 

Lord Bothey recovered from the blow on the head with no ill effects, although it was noted that, in the future, he avoided the company of Lady Rosalyn, especially when she carried her purse.