Virginia Henley (31 page)

With a cry, she pulled down his tight black breeches, and his manroot sprang free, long and hard. She caught her breath at his size. With one swift movement he freed himself of his breeches, then took her hands and drew them down to his fully aroused manhood. She stroked and explored until he was groaning with the pure pleasure her touch gave him. Then, inspired by the delicious feel of him, she took his manhood and guided it to her breasts, where she encircled her nipples with its tip. “Lord God, how you make me quiver!” he gasped.

Roseanna was stunned by the intense desire aroused in herself the moment she fondled his thick shaft. She had intended to enslave him, but at this moment he was her master, and she wanted him to fill her. And she almost fainted with rapture as he took over then, kissing her wildly, filling her mouth with his deep thrusting tongue, then moving on to tease her nipples and suck them until the throbbing between her legs heightened. Then he was lifting her hips to his demanding mouth and darting his fiery tongue across her little coral bud.

She gasped for more; he lay back against the pillows and gently lifted her onto his upthrusting shaft. With a moan of pleasure he thrust himself as deep inside her as he could go, then stopped and lay still. He knew she was too far gone to remain passive, and the climax he had begun to build in her with his tongue would scream for
release. Then she did exactly as he desired her to do: She began to thrust up and down on him, writhing and grinding her hips into his. Each time, she withdrew her sheath the full length of him; then she drove back onto him again and again until she cried out his name and gained her release.

Roger was not yet ready to finish, so he swiftly turned over with her until she was beneath him and lay quietly so she could enjoy the pulsations of her climax. Slowly she became aware again. “You are still big inside me!” she cried, trembling with spent passion. Roger lifted one round breast to his mouth, licked the nipple, then sucked hard. Slowly the throbbing began once more deep within her, and as his sensitive tip felt her contracting muscles, he swelled and hardened to his full length. He waited for her tight sheath to accept all of him; then he began to thrust deeper and deeper until her head thrashed wildly from side to side on the pillow. “I want to bind you to me forever, Roseanna,” he cried raggedly. “I love you.” He held her in firm control until it pleased him to give her release; then when he wanted her to come, he slipped his tongue into her delicious mouth and thrust in the same rhythm as his hardness thrust between her legs. They exploded together and lay spent in each other’s arms.

Always before after their passion, Roseanna had withdrawn behind her barrier; yet tonight she knew she could not do so. She had promised things, and she was generously determined to give to the full like a real woman. He lay on his side looking down at her, cradling her tenderly in the curve of his strong arm. She slipped her arms around his waist; then her hands slipped lower to his buttocks, and her fingers touched curiously two hard spots.

“What are these?” she whispered.

He chuckled low. “Calluses, my darling. Welts from the saddle. When I was in training with Warwick, I had to stand in the stirrups for weeks. He kept us so long in the saddle, my arse was raw. Now of course, they are well calloused and hurt no more. Your father shared my misery. Somehow it made it easier knowing the King also had a sore arse.”

She asked softly, “You knew he was my mother’s lover?”

“Yes. They should have wed, Roseanna. It would have prevented the realm from becoming divided over the cursed Woodvilles.”

“You, like everyone else, hate the Queen? Tell me why my father loves her.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it love, but she has an unbelievable hold on him.”

Roseanna said boldly, “I’ve heard she holds him by his prick. She must be very practiced in bed.”

“No, Roseanna. In my opinion she is one of those cold women who hates sex, so she has become an expert at holding him off. She plays him on a line like a damned salmon. He’s like an eager boy panting after her, while she lures then rebuffs, forever denying him; therefore his desire for her grows. She closes her eyes when he takes other women, then extracts money and favors for her ambitious family from the guilty Edward. She is an expert at manipulation. I thank God you are not like that,” he murmured against her temple.

She felt a pang of guilt, for she was trying to manipulate and enslave him to the point where he would eat out of her hand. “What do you mean?” she asked defensively.

“I thank God you are not cold. Your body receives almost as much pleasure as mine.”

“How do you know?” she breathed.

“When I first hold your breasts, they are warm and very soft; but when I caress them and stimulate them, they grow very round and firm. Then your nipples thrust up, tempting my tongue. I love to feel your breasts change in my hands. Let me show you.”

The bed was gloriously warm. The feeling of splendor between them made their bodies sing. Hot it was, and thrilling. Their desire rose up in towering waves, then smashed down into showers of sparkles. It towered again and toppled. It mounted and shook in a rhythm as if set to music. They wanted to fling their bodies to it as a sacrifice. Each longed to become a part of the other. It was a wonder and a glory and a terror that made them so alive, they felt immortal. After what seemed an aeon, they were exulting and shivering in every inch, and the Stardust whirled about them in an extravagant frenzy that almost pulled them into unconsciousness.

Roger hadn’t felt so fulfilled and relaxed in years. He was hovering deliciously on the brink of exhausted slumber when he heard her say, “You will let Bryan go free in the morning?”

He murmured, “If this whole night has been for him instead of for me, you have sealed his death warrant, my beloved.”

Icy fingers gripped her heart. Was he serious? She knew he was. She must get Bryan away, or Ravenspur would hang him for treason and jealousy.

She lay without moving for an hour and listened to her husband’s deep, even breathing. Then she put out a tentative hand to the bedside table and slowly felt around until
her fingers felt the keys. Cautiously she picked them up with the paper they lay upon and clasped them tightly to her breasts to muffle any clink of metal. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, she slowly moved away from the sleeping man until she had a foot on the floor. She stayed like that for long minutes without breathing until she was certain she had not disturbed him; then she softly stole naked from the chamber.

Kate Kendall stirred, then sat up and gasped as Roseanna’s naked figure stole into the room. “Put the blanket over your head, Kate. You have seen nothing of me this night. For what I am about to do, I may never be forgiven.”

Roseanna dressed in her warmest velvet riding clothes, woolen stockings, and high riding boots; then she pulled a long warm cloak overall. She put what money she had in a leather purse and belted it at her waist. Taking the keys and the paper, she bade Kate farewell. Ordinarily she would have been nervous about going below the castle in the dead of night, but her own danger was nothing compared with Bryan’s.

The dungeons smelled of damp and decay; she shuddered to think of the golden-haired youth in such a dreaded place. Dim candlelight came from the only cell that was occupied. As she crept toward it stealthily, a tall, dark form loomed out of the shadows. She almost jumped out of her skin—she knew she had been discovered. “Roger!” she cried in alarm; then she saw that it was Captain Kelly. “Oh, I thought you were my husband —you are so alike.”

His eyes gleamed at the prize he had caught doing what she shouldn’t. Suddenly a thought hit her in the pit of her stomach: This could have been the man Mr. Burke
had seen the night Janet was murdered! Her mouth was so dry, she could barely swallow. Kelly reached out a bold hand to touch her breast; in her misery she did not stop him. Emboldened by her acceptance, he said low, “I’ll look the other way while you free your lover if you’ll spread yourself for me.”

Numb with fear and loathing, she nodded her head and fumbled the key in the cell lock.

“Roseanna, thank God,” breathed Bryan, slipping from the cell.

She could not get out fast enough. If she didn’t get the stench of the place out of her nostrils soon, she would faint. They crept to the stables, and in the dim light she handed him the paper. “Ravenspur took you prisoner because he found this paper among your things. Tell me truly, Bryan. Did you mean to imprison me at Middleham?”

He laughed shakily. “Nay, Roseanna. The paper refers to the King,” he swore fervently.

She was stunned. Ravenspur was right! Bryan was involved in treason—and what of her brother?

“Goddamn it, he’s locked up my horse,” swore Bryan.

“Take Zeus. Leave him at Castlemaine.” She knew that she was doing an insane thing in letting him go, but she had loved him once, and she would never be happy if his blood were on her hands. He went to take her in his arms, but she recoiled in horror. “Go quickly before someone cries the alarm.”

He needed no second urging but threw a saddle onto Zeus and secured the belly strap. Only seconds after he rode off, old Dobbin ambled up with a lantern. “What do you want, my lady?” he croaked.

“The Arabian. What have you done with Mecca?” she asked.

He cackled. “As soon as ye brought them mares in, he began screaming until I give them to ’im. I’ve put them in the small stable behind this one. Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Go back to bed, Dobbin. I’ll see for myself,” she said with regal authority. He knew the tone and shrugged. When Lady Roseanna was up to intrigue, it was best to look the other way. He touched his forelock and ambled off.

She found the Arabian in a roomy, loose box stall with the three mares. One of them had a bite on her neck from when he had forced her to his will. Roseanna washed the wound and disinfected it as the young mare stood trembling beneath her ministrations. She muttered a low oath at the stallion as she saddled him: “By God, if you’ve got so much energy, I’ll run it out of you.”

He snorted and tossed his head, but she made him take the bit with determined hands. She had no plan yet except to go to her father. But as she rode toward Middleham, she knew the Abbey of Jervaulx would be close enough to shelter her until she found a way to see him.

    Roger opened his eyes; the emptiness of the chamber was tangible. His eyes flew to the table where the keys had lain, and he knew. He sprang from the bed and pulled on his clothes. He ran down four flights until he was beneath the castle, and he saw for himself that she had freed his prisoner. Fear was a stranger to Roger Montford, but it snaked through his belly as he ran to the stables. Fitzhugh’s horse was still locked in its stall, but a quick search confirmed that his fear was justified. Zeus
and Mecca were missing; they had gone together! He turned on young Dirk, his temper in shreds. “Who guarded Fitzhugh?” he demanded.

“I gave the only keys to you, my lord. No guard was posted,” he said, shamefaced. He was saved from a tongue-lashing by Tristan and his men clattering into the yard at full tilt. Roger could see Tristan’s agitation. Roger’s heart sank as his brother shouted, “They’ve taken the King!”

“Come upstairs where we can be private,” Roger bade him, “Kelly! Ready a hundred men and horses.” Grim-faced, Roger led the way to his chamber and slammed the door. The sight of the tumbled bed was like a knife turning in his breast. Quickly, he poured two goblets of wine and handed one to his brother.

“Two weeks ago, Ned left York. But instead of going straight to London, he decided to visit Nottingham Castle to see the extensive building renovations that are being done there. He got word that Warwick was going to move against him, and he was caught with his feet up on the table. He had only his Court with him.

“He foolishly delayed at Nottingham over a week trying to raise an army. He got Pembroke and Devonshire with their armies of Welsh archers, but Warwick’s forces were too great. Warwick has Ned at Warwick Castle, and he has had the gall to summon a Parliament for York. He has called on all subjects to join him in arms against the King. His war cry is ‘Death to the Woodvilles.’ Warwick says if the King won’t take action against them himself, he must be made to do so by others!” recounted Tristan.

“You’re certain they took Edward to Warwick Castle?” asked Roger.

“As certain as I can be. He’s more a guest than a
prisoner, according to Warwick. They have made Warwick Castle their headquarters.”

Roger paced the bedchamber like a caged animal. He was wracked with indecision. The scrap of paper had said the prisoner was to be held at Middleham, yet Warwick Castle made more sense. It was close to Coventry, where the Queen’s father, Lord Rivers, held sway. Edward had made his father-in-law his chief military officer, and he held the exalted rank of Constable of England. It was Lord Rivers whom Warwick intended to bring low.

Roger made his decision. They would go to Coventry and swell Edward’s army. There was strength in numbers, and they would join Hastings, Herbert, Stafford, Pembroke, and Devonshire. He would try to influence Norfolk and as many others along the way as he could. If it meant bloody war again, then so be it! He ground his teeth over the little creeping louse who had escaped from his own dungeon; he should have gutted him while he had the chance.