The Marriage Prize (15 page)

"I believe you are woman enough for anything," he said softly.

A frisson of pleasure curled inside her. Perhaps I am, she

thought.

As she began to undress, her glance fel upon her pil ow.

There lay a sprig of mistletoe and Rosamond wondered how

in the world it had gotten there. Had Nan put it there? No, of

course not. Rosamond knew very wel who had put it there,

and it proved to her beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was not

the only one thinking of kisses.

Leaving only one scented candle burning, Rosamond climbed

into bed and went over the events of the incredible day. The

decisions she had been forced to make had made her

stronger. She realized that those decisions had been easier

for her because de Leyburn had been at her side. She lifted

the misdetoe to her nose and sniffed. It had little scent, yet it

brought her a great deal of pleasure. Her thoughts drifted

back to last night when Rodger had come to her in the

darkness and held her securely for hours.

Her brows drew together in apprehension. Surely, the

nightmare wouldn't come again tonight to terrify her? If it did,

she took comfort in the fact that Rodger de Leyburn was in the

adjoining chamber and would not hesitate to come if she

needed him. The corners of her mouth went up. What if she

merely pretended she was having a nightmare? Al she need

do was cry out, and she would be in his arms once more.

Rosamond blushed. Why in the world was she having such

wicked, wanton thoughts?

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Eight

The fol owing day, Rosamond decided she would not hunt, but

she did join Sir Rodger and the other hunters on the first leg of

their ride, happy to exercise herself and her palfrey in the

crisp, cold sunshine. She wore an amber-colored cape that

flew open as she rode to reveal an apricot-colored riding

dress. She knew both shades complemented her honey-gold

tresses. This morning she wanted to look attractive in her

companion's eyes, and by the way his green gaze devoured

her, Rosamond knew she had succeeded.

Pershore was on the banks of the River Avon, which had

frozen solid a couple of days before, and it was a novelty for

Rosamond to ride Nimbus across the ice to the bank on the

other side. As they cantered beneath the tal trees, powdered

snow that had fal en in the night came drifting down from the

heavily laden branches, and she lifted her face skyward to

catch the flakes on her eyelashes. To Rosamond the day

seemed perfect. When the hunters caught sight of their first

roe deer, they thundered off after them, and Rosamond waved

farewel , then cantered slowly back across the frozen river to

Pershore.

She found the household servants decorating the hal with

hol y, ivy, and evergreen boughs in honor of the December

Holy Days of Saint Nicholas, and she and Nan joined them,

fastening red-berried hol y across the mantel of the massive

fireplace. The spicy smel of mincemeat pies baking in the

kitchen fil ed the air with their piquant aroma, and Rosamond

took a handful of cloves from the larder to the stil room to mold

some clove-scented candles.

Later in the day, when the wax had set, she decided to take a

scented candle to de Leyburn's chamber. She recal ed that

when she had been there to see the coin-fil ed coffers, the

room had looked extremely

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austere. As she looked about the chamber she was mildly

surprised that he had not softened the Spartan effect with

some of the furnishings from Worcester. From the cut of his

clothes, he seemed the sort of man who enjoyed the luxuries

clothes, he seemed the sort of man who enjoyed the luxuries

of life. She stripped off his bed and remade it with some of

her own fine sheets, since she imagined he was fastidious

about his body linen. She considered putting a sprig of

mistletoe on his pil ow, then decided against it. Instead, she

fastened the sprig of white berries at the neckline of her

apricot velvet gown.

The hunting party did not return until the last light had gone

from the afternoon sky. They had bagged dozens of deer and

scores of hares, as wel as a few wild boar. Nothing on the

animals would be wasted. The skins would be cured, and the

boar tusks and deer horns used to fashion handles for tools

and utensils. Even the hooves would be boiled down for soap,

mucilage, and gelatin.

Bathed and changed from his bloody attire, Sir Rodger joined

Rosamond in the hal for dinner. "It looks like Yuletide tonight, and if I am not mistaken I smel mince pie and roast goose."

"With chestnut dressing, I might add," Rosamond announced

with sparkling eyes. "Doesn't the hal look inviting?"

Sir Rodger eyed the mistletoe at her breast. "Inviting, yes. A

man appreciates a warm welcome, whether he is returning

from the hunt or from battle. If there is a lady who awaits him

with a smile, and praise for his efforts, life is much sweeter."

Rosamond's pulse quickened as it occurred to her that

Rodger de Leyburn was courting her. The meal turned out to

be a total success, and she enjoyed every delicious mouthful

of her food. She admitted that his company added to her

pleasure. When the meal was over and Rosamond told the

servers to refil al the wine cups, everyone in the hal

spontaneously broke into the old Welsh air:

Deck the hal s with boughs of hol y,

Fa la la la la la la la la. 'Tis the season to be jol y,

Fa la la la la la la la la. Don we now our gay apparel,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

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Trol the ancient Yuletide carol,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

See the blazing Yule before us,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Strike the harp and join the chorus,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Fol ow me in merry measure,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

While I tel of Yuletide treasure,

Fa la la la la la la la la.

As the tables were being cleared, Rosamond took her wine

and sat on the padded settle next to the fireplace. Rod joined

her, stretching out his long legs to the warm blaze.

"You look so content here, I hesitate to broach the subject of

Deerhurst," he said.

"I... I haven't been there since Giles's . . . accident. Dear God in heaven, I hope it isn't being run as Pershore was."

"It's much closer to Gloucester, so perhaps Deerhurst's

steward dare not be an out-and-out thief right under Richard

de Clare's nose, but conditions could certainly be less than

ideal." Rod searched her face. "There's only one way to find out." When Rosamond looked apprehensive, he offered, "I wil

go to Deerhurst without you if you cannot face going there

alone. Was it where you lived as a child?"

"Yes, Deerhurst was my father's castle," she said wistful y.

"Childhood memories can be almost unbearable." Tenderly,

he covered her hand with his, then threaded his fingers

through hers.

"No, I had a happy childhood, until my father was kil ed in

battle." Then Rosamond realized it was de Leyburn's own

childhood that prompted his words. "How far is Deerhurst

from here?"

"Possibly eight, certainly no more than nine miles south. We

would just fol ow the river."

Rosamond shook her head. " 'Tis unfair to ask Nan to ride

farther, especial y if the place is filthy and dilapidated."

Rod squeezed her fingers. "We could go alone."

His tempting suggestion hung in the air between them for long

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minutes as she debated its positive and negative points. It

was certainly her duty to inspect Deerhurst, not only for the

sake of the tenant farmers, but for the memory of Giles and

her parents. On the other hand, traveling alone with Sir

Rodger could bring them one step closer to matrimony. She

decided that time alone with him would not be a bad thing.

Being wooed was pleasurable, like an exciting game.

Rosamond now admitted to herself that she found Rodger

highly attractive, but he would have to be persuasive indeed to

make her change her mind about marrying him. "When?" she

asked impulsively.

"Tomorrow."

She watched his gaze linger on the mistletoe (or was it her

breasts?), then rise to her mouth. She caught her breath,

knowing that her assent had been reckless. Now he imagined

it was permissible to kiss her! When he lifted her hand to his

lips and kissed her fingers, a feeling akin to disappointment

washed over her. I swear he's doing it apurpose, she thought,

making love to me with his eyes so I wil anticipate his wicked

mouth! Wel , perhaps two can play that game.

Rosamond raised her wine cup slowly and sipped. Then she

lifted her lashes so that she looked directly into his green

eyes, and al owed the tip of her tongue to brush across first

her top lip, then her ful bottom lip. Her gaze dropped

deliberately to his mouth, where it lingered for an indecent

length of time. Then she sighed, al owing her lush breasts to

rise and then to fal . She watched as the expression in his

eyes grew hotter and she saw his jaw harden with desire. The

moment he dipped his head to take possession of her lips,

she jumped to her feet.

"I must pack if we are to leave at dawn. Good night, my lord."

Rod's dark brows drew together and he swore beneath his

breath as he watched her depart. He cautioned himself that

Rosamond was a wise little wench; he must not underestimate

her intel igence. Then he laughed; at least she had joined the

game!

******************

from Kenilworth and then wrapped herself in her emerald

velvet cloak with the marten fur hood. She had packed only a

few clothes, opting instead to take her own bed linen rather

than fancy gowns.

As Rod helped her into the saddle, she smiled as she

remembered

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Nan's knowing glances that she was being left behind.

Rosamond had not been able to convince her that it was out

of consideration for her comfort.

"I know what you're up to," Nan had said, "but you're an innocent, remember, and he's five years older and lived at the

licentious royal court in Gascony! You'l be like a lamb going to

slaughter."

"It was Gascony, not Gomorrah, Nan."

"Same thing, from what I've heard," Nan had sniffed.

"You and the rest of the world expect me to marry him, yet you

cavil at our being alone together. Nan, in spite of the fact that I

find Sir Rodger attractive and admit that my feelings are

thawing toward him, I'm not going to fal into his hands like a

ripe plum." Rosamond had smiled reassuringly. "Nan, Sir

Rodger may be worldly, but I assure you that I am more than a

match for him!"

Now, as Rosamond trotted her palfrey from the bailey, she

heard the tinkle of silver bel s and saw that de Leyburn had

fastened some to Nimbus's bridle. It was a lovely gesture on

his part. She realized that he paid attention to the details, and

to a woman that meant a great deal. Her next thought was that

he knew far too much about pleasing a woman. She asked

herself if she cared, and the answer came back Yes!

"Your palfrey is bred from the famous milk-white steeds of

Wales. The stal ions make good war horses. My black horse

is French, bred for swiftness. He doesn't make you nervous,

does he? "

"Not so long as you are there to control him. I'd be afraid to

ride him," she admitted, but not without a blush. Their horses

seemed to be an extension of themselves, his so powerful

and dark, hers so long-legged and blond. Why did the stal ion

and mare make her think of mating? Rosamond's blush

deepened, and she feared he would read her thoughts.

Quickly she changed the subject. "If the household servants at

Deerhurst are found wanting, where can we get others? "

"That's an easy one. Tewkesbury Castle is only two miles from

Deerhurst."

"I assume Tewkesbury is a royal castle?"

"It used to be, but Tewkesbury now belongs to me."

"You?" She could not keep the surprise from her voice.

"It was given to me by the crown for services rendered."

Rosamond was embarrassed. She had had no idea he

owned such

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an impressive property when she'd accused him of wanting to

marry her for her landholdings. "I apologize for accusing you of

acquisitive ambition, my lord."

Rod grinned at her. "It's completely true. If an ambitious man

has one castle, he wants two. If he has two, he lusts for four!"

Rosamond gasped at the audacity of the man. "How very

flattering! You openly admit you want me because I'm an

heiress?"

"I'd be a bloody hypocrite if I didn't, but you have much more to offer than castles, chérie."

"Such as?" As soon as she asked, she knew the question

revealed her vulnerability.

"You have an ancient noble name; you are educated,

intel igent, and trained to be a competent chatelaine. You are

witty, proud, innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful. A rare