Vow of Deception (16 page)

“Mama! Mama!” The boy's blond curly hair bounced with each step.

The boy collided against her knees. Rose laughed, then knelt down and hugged him. “I missed you, too, darling.”

Jason proceeded to ramble as quickly as he could talk about all he had done in her absence.

When he took a deep breath, Rose expertly steered him toward Rand. “Jason, do you remember Sir Rand Montague? He's the knight King Edward sent to escort me to court.”

“Of course, Mama.” The little boy bowed, grinning. “Welcome to my home, Sir Rand.”

Rand marveled; for one so young, it was an elegant and graceful bow.

“The king ordered Sir Rand and me to marry. He is now my husband and guardian of Ayleston.”

His big, blue-green eyes, so much like his mother's, grew wide with excitement. “So he truly is my papa now?”

“Nay. He is not your papa. Remember we spoke of this? Your father is dead and no one can ever replace him.”

His smile dimmed.

Rand knelt before him, the pointed tip of the shield on his back scraping the ground. “I can never replace your father, Jason, but I'd like us to be friends.” Rand pulled a crudely carved toy out of the purse hanging from his sword belt. “Here. I made this for you. 'Tis a replica of my ship, the
Argo
. This carved one floats in the water like a real ship.”

“A ship, for me?” His incredulous face tore straight to Rand's heart. It was not a grand gift—just a simple toy he'd made from a piece of old driftwood he found on the riverbank near his London warehouse.

“Thank Sir Rand, Jason.”

“Thank you, Sir Rand,” Jason said, then promptly plopped onto the ground and began examining the boat.

Rose smiled tenderly at the boy.

Now that it was just the three of them in the courtyard alone, Rand pulled Rose aside out of Jason's hearing. “For the nonce, I must see that my men are settled and then speak with the castellan of Ayleston about the castle fortifications. But later, Rose, I'd like to have a frank discussion with you about Jason.”

Rose stiffened, her gaze wide and incredulous. “What can you possibly wish to speak to me about concerning Jason? You may be the ward of his estate, but you have no authority over
my
son.”

Rand noted the odd emphasis on the possessive and stored it away for further insight. “In principle, you are right. But as guardian of his estate, I cannot ignore the boy's welfare. I'd like to be kept abreast of your care of Jason—”

Her face flushed. “Surely you are not suggesting I am incapable of caring for my son properly?”

“Rose, I cannot discuss this with you now. As I said, there are other duties that need my immediate attention. We'll speak further regarding this later,” he assured her and marched away quickly to the stables in the outer bailey.

Beneath her gown, her foot tapping, Rose fumed as she watched the arrogant lout walk away.

How dare he question the care and attention she gave to her son. Rand had no idea of the extreme depths she would go to in order to protect Jason. Everything she did, her whole existence centered round doing what was best for her son. And she would certainly not let Rand dictate to her how to be a good mother. Especially since he could not possibly know what it was like to be a parent.

A sudden stab of guilt bloomed in her chest. She walked over and crouched down beside Jason.

“See, Mama. This straight thing in back moves.”

“Aye, son, 'tis called a rudder and steers the ship upon the seas.”

Seeing Rand with Jason, his kind words and gift for the boy, Rose could no longer pretend to herself that Rand was not Jason's father. He deserved to know he had a son. But Rose was terrified what he'd do if he ever found out. Nor did she know what would happen if it became common knowledge that Jason was not Bertram's son. Might King Edward strip Jason of his inheritance?

As Jason was an adulterine bastard, or an illegitimate child born to a married woman, the barony could not be seized by legal measures. But Edward had a reputation for acquiring lands through underhanded means in order to enrich himself or the queen.

Nay. Rose would never let that happen. She had suffered too much to allow her son to lose his rightful inheritance. Long ago she vowed to see he received the best education and training available for when he gained control of the barony.

Even more disturbing, though, was the thought Jason would be labeled a bastard. She could not bear for him to know that shame. Especially since it was her fault she had selfishly given free rein to her passionate nature, regardless of the consequences. She could not let her sweet, innocent boy bear the blame for her sinful transgression.

In that moment, she realized their vow to have a chaste marriage was the right course. She must never again waver to passion's onslaught.

She gazed at Jason. Her heart turned over at seeing the joy upon her son's face.

“Son, I have something for you.”

Reaching under her wimple, she removed his stone necklace and placed it around his neck.

“Did it help you 'member me?”

She hugged him and kissed him. His small arms squeezed her back. “Aye, son, it gave me great comfort. But I'm home now. Come,” Rose said, then clasped Jason's hand in hers and pulled him up. “I want to hear about everything you did while I was away.”

Jason chattering beside her, she entered the Keep, her heart full of gladness to be home with her son once more.

At the dais table during the celebratory supper later that evening, Rose sat next to Ayleston's steward in deep discussion about this year's abundant harvest.

David, his dark auburn hair shining in the candles' glow, was handsome in a rugged way.

“What of your husband?” he asked, nodding toward Rand, sitting next to the castellan at the opposite end of the dais.

Rand's sensual lips quirked and his eyes twinkled with laughter. Her breath caught and her gut quivered with desire. Tingling warmth pooled between her legs. Oh, she was wicked, wanton. She must resist her lascivious attraction.

She gave herself a mental shake. “What about him?”

“Will he not wish to see to the day-to-day administration of the manor now that he is your husband and the estate's guardian?”

That still rankled. Though Ayleston had prospered greatly under her stewardship since her husband's death, by the king's decree control was stripped from her and given to Rand. Reminding her how little she controlled the ordering of her existence, unless…

“Sir Rand has been commissioned by King Edward to recruit a contingent of men-at-arms and archers for the upcoming war with Llewelyn. He will be away from the castle for much of the time traveling through the countryside, but he will also be busy seeing to increasing the castle defenses. He shall not wish to be burdened with the manor's daily operations. You shall continue to receive your orders from me and report back to me,” Rose hedged.

Upon Bertram's death, Rose had removed all those she could from positions of power in the household who were loyal to her husband. She'd handpicked David to replace the old steward and did not doubt his loyalty to her. Prior to Rand being named guardian, the king's escheat—the man responsible for the management of Jason's estate during King Edward's wardship—had been quite willing to allow Rose to see to the management of the barony. While she did the work, the escheat's liege, King Edward, received the benefits of her labors.

But now that Rand was the guardian of Ayleston, it was only to be expected that David would question his role and who was in charge. Rose meant to cling to her power for as long as she could, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Rand would seize control from her. Mayhap she could implement the improvements she wished to make to the estate before he took charge. Once they were established, she hoped Rand would see the merit in the changes and not care to override them.

A seductive giggle drew Rose's gaze to the other end of the dais. Lisbeth, the pretty, dark-haired servant whom Rand had previously fornicated with, brushed up against Rand as she set a flagon of wine on the board. Rand gave her a teasing wink, then turned back to speak with the castellan.

Razor-sharp jealousy scraped along Rose's flesh. She clutched her chalice tightly and swallowed several mouthfuls of wine.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she did not see David stare entranced at her wine-moistened lips on the rim of the chalice.

Staring across the board, Rand saw Rose turn and smile at the handsome steward. Rand's smile froze and his eyes narrowed.

Forbidden to touch his beautiful wife, he'd contemplated bedding Lisbeth. But he knew it would not assuage his need for the woman he truly wanted. Besides, he would not humiliate Rose by bedding anyone associated with Ayleston now that they were married.

Yet he was too virile to remain celibate forever. One day he would no longer be able to suppress his appetites and would seek out a willing woman to bed.

Suddenly, Rose reached out and touched the steward's wrist. A touch so brief Rand would have missed it if he'd blinked.

Like a punch to the gut, jealousy seized him. Rand growled beneath his breath.

Beside him, the castellan said, “My lord, did you say something?”

Until now, he had not considered that Rose might contemplate a carnal liaison of her own.

“A salute!” Rand blurted out.

Standing up, he walked to the other end of the dais table and stood between Rose and the steward. He helped her rise with his right hand and raised his chalice high in his other. “In honor of my new bride. The gracious and beautiful Lady Rosalyn Montague. No man could ask for a better wife. To Lady Rosalyn,” he said, then gulped down the contents of his chalice.

A roar of approval climbed to the wooden ceiling.

Beneath the noise of the crowd, Rose whispered, a hint of hurt in her voice, “We both know how untrue your words are. 'Tis cruel to mock me so before the people of Ayleston.”

One by one the residents in the Great Hall began to chant. But Rand was oblivious.

He stared at Rose, his eyes searing with sincerity. “I am not mocking you, Rose. I mean every word.” His eyes hardened. “But do not think I shall allow you to bed the good steward. If I cannot have you, no one can. Understand?”

Rose gasped. Her eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed. “How dare you accuse
me
of harboring thoughts of adultery. I saw you shamelessly flirting with Lisbeth,” she whispered back heatedly.

His heart beat faster. Rand was thrilled at her jealous reaction. “Ahh, but by our bargain to keep our marriage chaste, you gave me leave to sleep with other women. Or have you had a change of heart and wish to be a wife in
every way
?”

A stiff smile formed on her face. “Nay, of course not. Bed whomever you wish. All I ask is that you be discreet and not rut with anyone in the household. I shall not be humiliated or pitied in my own home.”

His pleased smile slipped. Euphoria rapidly withered.

Disheartened, Rand finally heard the chant. “Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.”

Rose blinked and looked around.

The moment could not have been more opportune. He desperately wanted to kiss her. To give her a small taste of what she was missing. It conveniently ignored his own reasons for not wanting to bed Rose. But at the moment logic was the furthest thing from his mind. Passion ruled him and he would not be denied.

Rand seized her in his arms, pressed his lips to her ear, a feathery imprint on her intoxicatingly scented skin. “Kiss me, Rose.” Voice low, husky, desperate. “If we don't, someone might begin to suspect our marriage is not valid. God forfend word gets back to King Edward and he decides to delve into the matter, mayhap even order a public bedding.”

When her body relaxed, he kissed her.

He slashed his lips over hers. Slowly. Thoroughly. Heatedly. He explored the soft, sensual contours of her full lips.

The crowd roared its approval. But it could not drown out the moan he drew from Rose. Her palms skimmed up his stomach and chest, the exquisite pressure of her caress scorching him wherever she touched. She threaded her fingers through his hair behind his neck, and clung to him.

Oh, God, he was falling, slipping, losing all sense of command. He grabbed for control, but instead…

He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside the silken cavern of her mouth. Their tongues tangled in a moist caress. His cock surged to poker hardness.

It lasted a moment. He wanted an eternity.

They broke apart, breathless and avoiding eye contact. Rand gazed around the crowded Great Hall. All eyes were upon them, the smiling, laughing countenances of the people of Ayleston thrilled at the lusty display between their lord and lady. Except the steward, who had left the Great Hall, Rand noted. To distract attention away from himself and Rose, Rand hailed the entertainment to commence.

Soon the castle folk were laughing uproariously, completely absorbed in the antics of the tricolored tumblers and acrobats. Rand joined a group of his men at the back of the vaulted chamber and avoided Rose for the rest of the evening.

Later, after the trestle tables and benches were moved against the walls, the musicians played sprightly dance music.

One by one the castle knights requested a dance from Rose. She graciously accepted each one. Sir Justin took his turn. Their hands met and they spun in a circle. Justin grinned down at her and winked. Rose laughed like a giddy girl, smiling up at the dark, handsome knight.

Rand's gut clenched. Jealousy, unwarranted as it was, consumed him. He trusted Justin with his life. But Rand wanted to be the one to make Rose laugh. Wanted her to come to him and confide in him what her fears were and how he could help her overcome them. But how could he help her when he could not triumph over his own fears?

He watched the festivities from a distance, wearing a smile on his face yet brooding in his heart. His inner demon was tearing him apart.

He wanted his wife. Desperately. Wanted to sink his body deep into hers, to revel in the delights of her carnal flesh. But once he made love to Rose, he knew he would fall under her spell and never recover from her enchantment.

With every knight she seduced with her warm smile and gentle praise, the deeper Rand's jealousy and obsession grew.

And the more wine he imbibed.

Rand relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief when Rose and Lady Alison left the Great Hall for the private chambers above stairs.

 

In the solar after supper, Rose and Alison were weaving in companionable silence on stools pulled up before the fireplace. Between them, sitting on the floor, Geoffrey sorted the various colored yarns they were using to weave the pattern on the cushion tapestries.

Jason was asleep in his bedchamber. An occasional burst of laughter drifted up the stairs from the Great Hall, but Rose was oblivious.

She could not stop thinking of Rand's salute.
In honor of my new bride. The gracious and beautiful Lady Rosalyn Montague. No man could ask for a better wife.
But the truth was she was no wife at all. Rand truly deserved someone better than her. His praise of her deepened her consuming guilt at the secrets she kept from him. She owed him her loyalty and trust. But she could not bear to see the hatred and disgust in his eyes when she told him Jason was his son.

She raised her fingers to her mouth. Nor could she forget his kiss. Her lips still throbbed intermittently like an echo of a memory.

The door to the solar suddenly slammed open against the wall, shattering the silence. Geoffrey jerked, startled. Lady Alison, eyes wide, put down her needle slowly as though afraid she'd startle a wild beast.

Rand's gaze caught and held Rose's. His gray-green eyes, as dark as a stormy sea, never wavered when he ordered, “Leave us.”

Rose stood up and set aside her tapestry frame and needle on the stool. “Lady Alison, Geoffrey, you are excused for the night.”

She knew now Rand would never harm her, emotionally mayhap, but not physically. No matter her provocation, he had been patient and understanding. In her heart she had always known it was not his character to strike out in anger, but after years of Bertram's abuse it was difficult to release her fear.

Alison and Geoffrey hastened from the room, closing the door behind them. Flames flickered over Rand's face—golden light and dark shadows—creating an illusion of the two sides of his conflicted personality she was coming to recognize. The smiling, laughing, genial man who always found humor in the mundane, and the man who deeply mourned the death of his mother and twin sister, yet masked his sadness behind the persona of a charming rogue.

She surmised he hid his true feelings because if he opened up and explained what happened the day his sister died, he might expose an unforgivable weakness; unforgivable because a warrior was trained to be strong, brave, and above all, fearless. To expose a vulnerability to your enemy could lead to certain death.

Rand broke the silence. “I tried to sstay away from you. To abide by our voww to keep our marriage in name only. But you're soo damn irr…irresisiistible.”

Rand weaved slowly, unsteadily toward her. He stopped a hairsbreadth away from her; his breath smelled strongly of wine.

She stiffened. “My lord, are you drunk?”

He clutched her hips and hauled her up along his hard, muscled body.

Heat and hardness pressed against her belly. Breath, hers and his, grew erratic.

“I need you sooo mush it hurts.” His silky voice caressed her ear, sending a shiver down her neck.

The desperate plea melted her resistance, and she clutched his waist to keep from pooling at his feet.

Rand cupped his hands around her face. His eyes dipped to her lips. “Your mouth is so lusscious and sweet, I could kiss you for hours without end.”

His mouth came down on hers. A delicate brush of his lips, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, raised a tingle on the plump flesh of her mouth. He kissed her for long, luxurious moments, while his hand removed the brooch at her neck, spread the split neckline of her surcoate, and delved beneath her bodice to loosen the drawstring neck of her tunic and chemise.

“I can't help wishing to explore your perrfect breasts in my palms.”

His right hand clasped her bare breast. A deep groan vibrated against her moaning lips. He circled his palm round and round her breast, the friction searing her nipple to a hard, throbbing point.

Bertram had convinced her she was ugly and undesirable. Rand's words were like a balm to her wounded heart. At that moment, her reasons for why it was best to keep their marriage chaste eluded her and she kissed him, her tongue penetrating deep and wet into his mouth.

She squirmed against him, wanting more, unable to verbally articulate her desire.

Yet Rand had no difficulty expressing his need and she gloried in her ability to make him lose control.

“I want to lick and…and tasste the sweeet nectar of your breast's rosy bud.”

Lowering his head, he lifted her breast and clamped his hot, wet lips around her nipple. Tingling heat shot directly to her intimate core. She gasped in surprise, panting loudly as she clutched his head to her breast like a baby's.

Slowly, inexorably, he sucked the tip deep into his mouth.

She moaned. “Oh, God, what are you doing to me?”

Though married for more than a year, she'd never experienced aught like it. And the one time she and Rand had been together, their coupling had been swift and brief with no preliminaries to speak of.