The Marriage Prize (13 page)

lying in her bed, her hair a wild tangle, her night rail twisted

about her body so that her long legs were bared. He sat down

on the edge of the bed and gripped her shoulders.

"Rosamond, wake up, sweetheart, you're having a

nightmare!"

When the girl on the bed opened her eyes, they widened in

horror and another scream was torn from her throat. The dark

form towering above her blotted out the light from the candles

that burned in their iron stand in the corner of the room, and

she fought him desperately.

Rod took possession of her hands as they clawed at his face,

and gripped them tightly. "Rosamond, it's me, it's Rod!"

His voice was so compel ing, it penetrated her

consciousness. "De Leyburn?" she gasped.

A light flared behind them as Nan rushed into the chamber.

She

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stopped dead in her tracks at the scene before her. "Bones of

God, Sir Rodger, are you ravishing her?"

"She is screaming from a nightmare, not me. I'l take care of

this, Nan, go back to bed."

Nan hesitated. "Rosamond ... ?"

"I'm... al right." The quaver in her lady's voice did little to assure Nan, but Sir Rodger de Leyburn was such a dominant

male presence, the tiring-woman had little choice but to

withdraw and al ow them their privacy.

"Tel me what terrified you."

She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to do aught but

cling to him. When he felt her body trembling, he slipped his

arms around her protectively and held her. Some inner instinct

told him not to press her to talk; he somehow knew that at the

moment, al she needed was his strength. He could feel her

heart pounding, feel the tremor of her lush breasts as they lay

against the hard muscles of his chest, and hear her

shuddering breaths as her lungs fought for air. The scent of

her, the feel of her soft body, and the feminine way she clung

to him were aphrodisiacs that aroused his lust, but he crushed

it down with an iron determination. Gradual y, in the warm

haven of his arms, her breathing eased and her trembling

stil ed.

As Rosamond clung to him she realized she had never felt as

total y safe and secure in her entire life as she did at this

moment. His powerful protection was al -encompassing, and

so seductive she longed to stay in his arms, pressed against

his heart forever. As his warmth seeped into her, she felt a

need to reveal her nightmare, hoping his strength could erase

it forever. She had not spoken of it for years; she had

suppressed it for so long, it had become a terrible secret,

almost shameful; but now she felt an overwhelming

compulsion to share it. "I... I have a recurring dream..." she whispered.

"Tel me," he murmured, stroking her disheveled hair, with his strong, soothing hand.

Rosamond could feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart

beneath her cheek, and she was no longer afraid to speak of

it. "It is a . . . trampling dream. Always the same. The rider is faceless . . . though I know he is dark. It is the horse I fear

most. ... It is huge, black, terri-

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fying." She shuddered. "My blood turns icy with fear, for I know his pursuit wil be relentless!" She took a deep breath before

she could continue. "I desperately attempt to escape the cruel

hooves.... I run faster and faster, until my lungs are ready to

burst, but I cannot escape. As I look back over my shoulder,

the black forelegs rise above me. ... I scream and tumble

beneath the horse's hooves...."

Rod was a good listener, which was why so many people

confided in him. Listening was an art; he neither offered

advice nor tried to solve the problem unless he was asked. He

simply listened. He understood that if he did for Rosamond

what she must do for herself, he would only end up

heightening her fear and diminishing her confidence in herself.

His arms tightened about her and he drew her closer.

In the haven of his arms, Rosamond's thoughts began to

disentangle themselves and she saw things with a clarity that

had evaded her up until now. "Of course," she whispered, "the black horse symbolizes death! I am running away from death .

. . my parents' death . . . my brother's. . . . I've never ful y

accepted Giles's death. Whenever I am threatened, I have the

trampling dream!"

Rodger began to rock her gently. He cradled the back of her

head with his hand and pressed her face into the hol ow of his

shoulder. His lips brushed the curling tendrils at her temple.

"The nightmares began when I heard whispers that Giles had

been trampled to death by his maddened horse in the

jousting."

At that moment, Rodger de Leyburn thanked heaven and hel

that Rosamond Marshal could not see the grim expression on

his face. Giles Marshal had not been kil ed by his horse. He

had met his death by a human hand. Rod closed his eyes and

knew he must wed her quickly, before she learned who had

kil ed her beloved brother. The marriage must be soon, or the

dark rider of her dream might no longer be faceless.

Seven

When Nan waited an extra hour in the morning before she

attended Rosamond, her mistress realized Nan was giving Sir

Rodger time to withdraw from her chamber discreetly, if he

had spent the night with his betrothed.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you last night, Nan. When I went to bed, I didn't feel safe with Sir Rodger away at Worcester, and I had

a nightmare. But when I saw that de Leyburn had returned

after al , it put my fears to rest."

"I wanted to stay, my lamb, but he dismissed me, and he can

be very intimidating."

"Yes, I know, but strangely enough he doesn't greatly

intimidate me any longer. I have been guilty of saying the most

dreadful, cutting things to him, but instead of being fierce with

me, he is amused."

"Perhaps he is tolerant because you are not yet wed. Perhaps

he wouldn't be quite as amused if his wife was insolent to

him."

"You are not very consistent, Nan. Yesterday you were pushing

me into matrimony; today you are warning me against it."

Rosamond hid a smile. "Help me choose something suitable

to wear—the new staff from Worcester Castle wil be here this

morning."

When she went down to the hal , Rosamond was wearing a

dark green tunic over a white lawn underdress. A gold chain

decorated with jade beads was artful y crisscrossed once

beneath her breasts, once about her hips in Grecian style, and

her long golden hair had been drawn up in a knot at the back

of her head, then al owed to flow to her hips in a long fal .

When she saw Rodger de Leyburn, her cheeks turned pink

and her eyes went directly to his, to gauge his reaction.

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"Good morning, my lady." His smile was friendly but not

intimate, and Rosamond heaved an inner sigh of relief. He

signaled to a woman at the other end of the hal , who came

immediately. "This is Lizzy Hutton. I think she wil make a good

head housekeeper in charge of Pershore's female servants,

but only if she meets with your approval, my lady. Lizzy, this is

Rosamond Marshal, the mistress of Pershore."

Lizzy bobbed a respectful curtsy. "I wil do my very best to earn your approval, ma'am. What would you like for breakfast?"

Rosamond liked her immediately, not only because she had a

motherly look, but because she was immaculate, with a

starched white smock and cap, and clean fingernails.

Lizzy curtsied to Nan also and asked what she would like to

eat. When she went happily off to the kitchen, Rosamond

smiled at Sir Rodger. "I think she's lovely. I hadn't expected

them to be here this early."

His green eyes smiled into hers. "I swear I didn't threaten

them, I just think they want to impress you and show they are

eager to serve you and Pershore. I recommend that you make

Lizzy's husband steward in Dymock's place, but of course the

decision is yours. If you don't agree once you have talked with

him, we'l get another man."

"If you recommend Hutton, Sir Rodger, that's good enough for

me; you have far more experience than I." Lord in heaven, she

thought, why did I speak of his experience? He could think it a

double entendre!

But Rodger nodded seriously. "I know them to be a capable

couple, both decent and trustworthy. They brought some

furnishings from Worcester Castle to make Pershore more

comfortable."

"Oh, are you sure that is permissible?"

Rod smiled. "Yes, I gave them permission to bring the stuff

and now I give you permission to enjoy it."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Then how can I

refuse?"

"Oh, you are quite capable of refusing what I offer,

Rosamond," he teased.

She remembered how his arms had felt in the night, and

lowered her lashes to her cheeks. I didn't refuse your strength,

she thought. It’s the only thing you have that I need . . . the only

thing I want! Another voice

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spoke to her. If you agreed to marry him, you would gain that

strength. Rosamond silently answered the voice. Yes, but he

would want more from me than I am prepared to give.

"I hesitate to ask, Rosamond, for it could be harrowing, but

would you consider riding out with me to visit the tenant farms

this morning? I wil go alone if you prefer."

She liked the way he included her in al he undertook, whether

it was choosing a steward or visiting the tenants. When she'd

arrived at Pershore, she'd felt completely insignificant, but Sir

Rodger was changing that. "Of course I wil visit my tenants."

She gave him back his own words. "I am honor-bound."

"Thank you. I'l saddle your palfrey while you break your fast,

and await you in the bailey."

De Leyburn never failed to surprise her. Would he real y

saddle her palfrey himself, rather than have a groom do it?

Everything he did had a way of making her feel special. After

breakfast, when she went up to her bedchamber for her cloak

and gloves, her jaw almost dropped with amazement. The

room had been transformed. Not only was there a lady's

slipper bath and a lovely polished mirror, but the floor had a

plush red carpet and the wal s were hung with rich tapestries.

Roger de Leyburn had surprised her again, and it began to

dawn on her that he was a man who enjoyed surprising a lady

and gifting her with life's luxuries.

As they rode to the first tenant farm, with Hutton, the new head

steward, in tow, Rosamond thanked Sir Rodger for his

thoughtfulness.

"It is my pleasure. Most beautiful, highborn ladies take these

things for granted."

She touched the dark brown marten fur that edged the hood of

her green velvet riding cape and wondered if he real y did

think she was beautiful, or was he merely being gal ant?

Compared with his swarthy handsomeness, she was

extremely fair, and she wondered if he was truly attracted to

her. Then she blushed, for she knew of a certainty that when

she tossed her long honey-blond tresses about her shoulders,

he became aroused. She found his eyes upon her as she

tucked a windblown strand of hair back inside her hood, and

her blush deepened. Lord, she hadn't felt this feminine in her

entire life!

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As they rode through a copse of beech trees, they startled a

family of roe deer, who in turn disturbed myriad game birds as

the deer bounded off through the woods. When they arrived at

the first farm, Rod dismounted immediately and went to

Rosamond's stirrup to aid her. Unused to such male attention,

she found how pleasurable it was to be lifted down from the

saddle.

At every farm, six in al , the scene was basical y the same. Her

tenant farmers were afraid of their visitors. It stabbed

Rosamond to the heart when the children screamed and went

into hiding. The men were gaunt, the women thin and timid,

and al were in rags, overworked and underfed.

As Hutton assessed what needed to be done in the way of

repairs to the dwel ings and outbuildings, de Leyburn drew out

the farmers and got them to talk. To Rosamond it was clear

that he had dealt with situations like this before, and she was

profoundly grateful for his experience. She listened to their

painful stories and was devastated by what she heard. Their

sheep had produced more wool this year than ever before, yet

the people who were responsible were almost starved. They

learned that Dymock had hanged a farmer who cut up a dead

learned that Dymock had hanged a farmer who cut up a dead

lamb to feed his family and neighbors, and a twelve-year-old

youth had been beaten to death for hunting Pershore's game.

After they heard the first horror story, Rodger de Leyburn

turned to Rosamond and asked her if she would hold a court

to try Dymock for his crimes. When she agreed, he told her to

ask the tenants to bring their grievances to the hal later that

day.

"My lord, I want you to ask them. They wil not listen to me