Virginia Henley (22 page)

He threw back the covers and reached for his robe. He would go to her and lay her on her bed and arouse her to the point where she would beg him to love her. His hands knew tricks that would make her mindless. Once he had made her his once, she would be his for a lifetime. After all, he was nearly thirty-two, with a man’s experience. She was just seventeen and untouched, if he guessed right.

He made his way to the northeast corner of the castle and recalled that to get to Roseanna he would have to pass through the outer chamber. He muttered a fertile obscenity, hating the idea of knocking and asking for permission to visit his own wife. But he suppressed his anger and knocked on the chamber door. Kate Kendall opened it and held a candle high. “Is aught amiss, my lord?” she asked low.

He swallowed a savage retort and stated evenly, “I want to visit Roseanna.”

“Oh, my lord, she is not expecting you. She went to bed unwell. Her head was spinning vilely.” Kate was determined to thwart him. Hadn’t she just given her word that she would not let him have entrance if he chose to visit her?

Roger looked toward the inner door and saw light shining from beneath it. He kept his temper but pressed the servingwoman. “If she is unwell, I think I should see to her.”

Kate shook her head firmly, as if dealing with one of her young charges. “You wouldn’t be kind if you disturbed
her, my lord. She only needs rest, and she wouldn’t get that if you visited her, would she?”

The old horror of being denied entry to his wife suddenly gripped him. What if she were entertaining her lover? He’d seen the young knight pass her a note this morning. No, the thought was too vile to contemplate! Yet it lingered so that he doubted the wisdom of forcing the issue. As he turned to leave, Kate said, “Good night, my lord.”

Good night? Nay, one of the worst he’d endured. Christ, she had vowed to make him wretched, and she was succeeding. He slammed his chamber door and ground his teeth. Though the chamber was large, it caged him. It imprisoned the essence of him, the strength, the male recklessness. Suddenly he booted a stool across the room, then hurled an obscenity after it. He fought the urge to go and see if Fitzhugh was in the men’s quarters. Nay, that way lay madness.

The old pain washed over him. Not again, Christ, not again! He breathed deeply and calmed himself. No, his last wife had been a whore, but Roseanna was as far removed from that as day from night. She was his rose without a thorn, and he would not profane her with vile thoughts or doubts that only sprang from his unsavory past. He schooled his thoughts and then his blood. He sipped a glass of wine and promised himself, tomorrow night!

The morning was taken up with Tristan’s departure for Ravenscar, about forty miles distant on the east coast. The journey was being made to scout out the countryside, to watch for any movement of men or ships on the coast. It was a precautionary measure on behalf of King Edward, who was far too trusting. If Tristan found nothing untoward, Roger had given him orders to return within the week. It was to the west that they really looked for treachery; Roger would not rest secure until Tristan had returned and together they had journeyed to Ravenglass and back.

Rebecca was not accompanying her husband but would stay at Ravensworth with her ladies. Tristan was surprised and pleased when his young wife bade him a lingering farewell and whispered that she would miss him. “If Roseanna were your wife, she would ride with you and disregard the danger.”

Tristan observed his wife closely and was pleased with
and whispered in her ear, “When you are stronger, you can ride with me. I’ll look forward to it.”

Rebecca blushed prettily. “Hurry back, Tris!”

He grinned wickedly. “I shall. But be warned, the separation will make me randy as hell.”

Roseanna accompanied Rebecca to the stables to bid Tristan and his men godspeed; then Rebecca returned to the castle and Roseanna inspected the horses they owned.

Old Dobbin was at her elbow, holding each animal for her examination. “Ravenspur has a few good stallions and, of course, dozens of geldings. But his stables are sadly lacking in good mares to breed from,” she told Dobbin.

“Aye, my lady. The mare you brought from home is better than any they have here.”

Roseanna nodded. “I’m so thankful I brought one that’s breeding. She was served by Zeus and no other that I know of. She’ll produce something quite fine in the spring.”

“I think this mare here is breeding. The head stableman told me she was covered by Ravenspur’s stallion, but she has a history of abortion.”

Roseanna frowned as she ran her hands along the sleek belly of the only mare Ravenspur owned besides the one she had brought with her. “Get the head stableman for me, Dobbin,” she said with determination.

Dobbin left and returned in the company of a strapping young man who looked as if he could lift a horse if it were necessary.

“This is Tom. He’s in charge of Ravenspur’s stable.”

Roseanna smiled warmly. “You do a fine job with Ravenspur’s animals, Tom. It’s quite a large stable.”

He grinned. “There’s over a hundred men-at-arms to
be mounted. ‘Course, most knights take a personal interest in their animal. See that it’s fed and groomed and exercised. But they know naught about doctoring a sick animal or binding up its wounds after a battle. I hear ye have a special interest in horses, my lady.”

“Yes, we bred the best in England at Castlemaine, and I see no reason why we can’t do some breeding here, Tom. Dobbin tells me this mare has a history of abortion?”

He answered her as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be discussing these matters with Ravenspur’s new bride.

“I’ve had lots of experience with that problem, Tom, and I think we’ll be able to save this one if you’ll follow my advice. It’s worth a try if she was covered by Ravenspur’s black stallion; he’s a beauty.” She looked around the stables to find a quiet box stall removed from the heavy traffic of horses. “I want her checked every week. Keep her quiet and warm and comfortable. Wash her shapes down every few days with strong soap and water. Keep her meticulously cleansed, and at least one of her feedings every day should be oatmeal gruel.”

“Does that prevent abortion?” asked Tom with deep concern.

“It certainly helps. Whenever a mare aborted, we always disinfected the stall immediately, gave the horse an enema to clean the bowels, and then rubbed it with olive oil. And of course, most important of all—always burn the fetus.”

Tom nodded sagely as these new ideas were presented to him.

“I’m going to buy Ravenspur some new mares so we can breed the Arabian.”

“They have horses something like that one over Middleham way. Some monks at an abbey breed white horses,” said Tom.

“Really?” asked Roseanna with interest. “I’d love to see them.” When she raised her head, she saw Sir Bryan saddling his horse, so she quietly excused herself and unhurriedly made her way in his direction. She must take the chance of being seen together, for at all costs she must warn him not to come to her chamber.

“Bryan, your note has distressed me,” she said low.

“My sweet, I miss your company sorely. How have I distressed you?”

“You must not come to my chamber, especially after the hour of midnight. It would cover us with guilt. If any saw you, we would be charged with adultery!” she warned.

He stiffened. “What I feel for you, my lady, is love, not lust. It is a pure love, beyond the physical, on a higher plane,” he insisted as if she had offered him grave insult.

She softened. “Oh, Bryan, I know, and that is why I love you. But we must keep it secret between us, or I shall not know a moment’s peace. If our love were known, you would be in mortal danger.”

“When Ravenspur travels to his castle at Ravenglass, I will endeavor to stay here. Then we may spend some time together.” When they saw Captain Kelly headed their way, they quickly separated.

Roseanna discovered that Mr. Burke had been looking for her.

“The master asked me to prepare dinner for the two of you and serve it in the living quarters. He said you would choose what to serve and give me my orders, Lady Roseanna.”

“How very thoughtful he is,” said Roseanna sarcastically. “Mr. Burke, tell me, is he very accomplished at cards and chess and games of chance?”

“He’s challenged you, has he?”

“He has, Mr. Burke, and I intend to beat him. I’ve diced with Castlemaine’s men-at-arms since I was live. The King himself taught me to play chess and how to be devious. So if you will tell me which game Ravenspur does not excel at, it will give me the advantage.”

He chuckled and stroked his chin. “Well, I’ve never seen any beat him at chess, but young Tristan always wins when they play backgammon.”

She gave him a conspiratorial grin and said, “Set the backgammon board up before the fireplace, and we’ll dine over there in that alcove beneath the pretty stained-glass aureole window.”

“Very good choice, my lady.” He nodded his approval. “What do you wish me to serve?”

“Let’s see. We’ll begin with smoked salmon or trout. Then I suppose we should have some sort of game bird because they are so plentiful now, but I hate grouse, and pheasant flesh sometimes has a strong taste.”

“May I suggest partridge, my lady? There’s nothing as sweet as a plump partridge.”

“Perfect, Mr. Burke.” She nodded her agreement. “Serve Ravenspur whatever wine he prefers, but I’d like mead, please.”

“I’m pleased that you like the mead, my lady. ’Tis made with honey and gets its distinctive flavor from the heather. When we go back south to Ravenspur, I shall take some barrels of mead along for your enjoyment.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burke. Tell me, what was Ravenspur’s second wife like?” she asked disarmingly.

He looked taken off his guard for once; he measured his response carefully before giving it. “Well, I would say she was a man’s woman, if you know what I mean.”

Roseanna felt annoyed and her voice rose slightly. “No, I don’t know, Mr. Burke. Whatever is a man’s woman?” She almost felt jealous; what was the matter with her?

He looked most uncomfortable. “It’s hard for me to explain, my lady. It’s almost nine years since she died. What do you wish to know about her?”

“Was she beautiful?” she asked bluntly.

“Very beautiful, in a voluptuous sort of way.”

Roseanna bristled. “How long were they married?”

“Ah, not long, not long at all. She died while still a bride, technically. Within two years, I mean.”

“I see,” she said. “I understand he was married for the first time at fifteen?”

“Yes, that is so, to a lady who was older than himself. That first marriage could not be called a love match, though they were wed over five years.”

“That means his second marriage was a love match?” she queried.

Mr. Burke coughed to clear his throat and wished he were not being put on the spot. “He was certainly in love when he first met the lady. He was widowed at twenty and rushed headlong into a second marriage before his twenty-first birthday, disregarding a decent mourning period.”

“Thank you, Mr. Burke. I know you feel you are breaching his confidence, but I have no one else to ask.” She had a hundred questions about the “voluptuous” bride Ravenspur had loved so madly, but she bit her tongue. She would save them for another time, after she
and Mr. Burke had become more comfortable with each other. “Mr. Burke, would you be good enough to have hot water sent to my chamber? I must bathe the traces of the stables from myself before I dine with Ravenspur.”

Suddenly it was very important to her that she look beautiful tonight. She wished herself to be the loveliest woman he had ever dined with in his life. She would choose something revealing that his maleness would respond to and that would keep his mind from the game.

She stepped from the tub and allowed Kate to wrap her in a thick towel. She opened her wardrobe with Alice at her elbow and began to search through the great number of gowns. She stopped when she came to the red velvet that she had worn so long ago for King Edward’s visit. Her mind flew back to that night and to the influence it had had on her life.

“Oh, you can’t wear that red velvet tunic without the underdress again!” pleaded Alice in a frightened voice.

Roseanna gave her an amused look over her shoulder. “As if I would do such a thing. No, tonight I’m going to do it the other way around. I’m going to wear the diaphanous white underdress without the tunic.”

Alice gasped. “But Lady Roseanna, it’s so sheer you can see through it!”

“Yes,” mused Roseanna with relish. “I know.” She opened one of her coffers and selected a white shift delicately embroidered with silver thread, then donned the sheer underdress and stood before her mirror to gauge its effect. She lifted her arms high; the long filmy sleeves floated down until they touched the delicate folds of the skirt. If she stared very hard, she could just discern the deep rose-pink aureoles that circled her nipples. Kate
stood behind her with pursed lips. “Kate, stop disapproving and fetch my jewel coffer.”

Kate Kendall handed her mistress the heavy leather coffer that held the lovely jewelry her mother had designed for her.