The Marriage Prize (18 page)

from the room.

Rosamond knew whatever secrets she had, or secrets de

Leyburn had for that matter, would be inviolate with Master

Burke.

Sunshine splashed through the tal windows, saturating the

spacious chamber, and for the first time she was able to

appreciate the room. She knew instinctively it was Rodger de

Leyburn's bedchamber and his carved bed they had shared. It

was furnished luxuriously and dramatical y. The fireplace and

hearth were made of gray slate probably imported from

Wales. The window drapes and bed curtains were crimson

velvet; the plush carpet was charcoal gray and crimson in an

exotic Persian pattern. The wal s were covered with Flemish

tapestries, whose colors were predominantly crimson and

gray. A massive wardrobe took

98

up an entire wal , and beneath the windows there were ebony

tables inlaid with red Spanish leather. One of the tables held a

chess set whose pieces were Grecian gods and goddesses,

carved from black marble. Rosamond decided the chamber

revealed much about Sir Rodger de Leyburn. He had

flamboyant, yet expensive, taste. He was clearly a man who

appreciated the finer things of life and had been col ecting

them for some time.

As Rosamond removed the bedrobe to climb into the bathing

tub, an unusual scent stole to her. She sniffed with

appreciation—what was the tantalizing fragrance? A silver urn

stood in the corner fil ed with crimson chrysanthemums, but

that was not the source. She lifted her arm to her nose and

breathed in the perfume of her skin. Had it come from the

robe, or had it come from de Leyburn? Whichever, it was

extremely exotic, even erotic, Rosamond realized with a blush.

When the door swung open and de Leyburn walked in,

Rosamond slid down in the water and reprimanded him. "You

didn't knock!"

"I am unused to knocking on my own chamber door."

Amusement danced in his eyes. "Since you haven't a stitch of

clothing to put on, I thought I would solve your dilemma, or

were you planning to walk about naked for me?"

He was in a teasing mood and she felt a great relief that he

had taken a figurative step back from their amorous intimacy

of the night before. "You are a devil, de Leyburn." Amusement lurked in the depths of her own eyes as she admitted, "In truth,

I had forgotten that I had no clothes."

He opened the box he was carrying. "I have a couple of el s of

amethyst velvet that wil be enough for a gown and a cloak, if

you like it. I have a woman sewing a shift for you as we

speak."

She gasped with pleasure when she saw the material. "Oh, is

it French-cut velvet? Wherever did you get such beautiful

cloth?"

"From France, I believe," he said with a straight face.

"This chamber is magnificent; you have a taste for luxury."

"Whenever I see something beautiful, I have an overwhelming

urge to possess it." His gaze lowered from her eyes to her

mouth, then dipped even lower.

When Rosamond glanced down, she saw that her breasts

were

99

bobbing in the water. Pink suffused her cheeks, yet secretly

she was proud of her lush breasts and not displeased that

they had been accidental y displayed for him. There was no

doubt that Sir Rodger found her physical y attractive, and

Rosamond realized that there was no point in lying to herself

—she found him more than attractive; she found him as

magnetic as a lodestone. He was a far more complex man

than she had first suspected, and she was intrigued by him. If

she could be certain that he wanted her for herself as wel as

her rich dowry, if she could ful y trust him, she would welcome

marriage to this compel ing man.

A knock upon the door interrupted her thoughts. It was a

maidservant with a breakfast tray. "Oh dear, I wanted to wash

my hair, but I don't want the food to get cold—"

Rod picked up a smal table and moved it beside the Viking

bathing tub. He took the tray from the maid and set it close to

Rosamond. "I would feed you, but that would lure me into the

water with you and I would soon find myself out of my depth."

He winked to show he was teasing. "The sewing woman wil

bring you that shift and take your measurements for the gown.

Enjoy your food; there is a compote of pears and honey from

my own orchards."

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

Three hours later, when Rosamond emerged from Rodger de

Ley-burn's bedchamber wearing a classic-cut tunic gown

made from the amethyst velvet, she knew she looked pretty.

The mirror on his wardrobe door had shown her that the color

of the French-cut velvet made her freshly washed hair

shimmer like fine-spun gold. She had used a golden chain

she had found to cinch in the waist of the tunic and suspected

it was real gold. When Rosamond had opened the wardrobe,

overflowing with his fashionable garments, she had final y

identified the scent that clung to them as exotic sandalwood.

As Rosamond walked along passageways that opened into

castle chambers, she saw that Tewkesbury was fil ed with

treasures. There were marble figures that must have come

from Italy, refectory tables and settles covered with Cordovan

leather from Spain, carpets from Egypt that must have been

brought back from the Crusades, and vases that must have

originated in the Orient. The chrysanthemums in the vases

must have been grown in a greenhouse. 100

She found de Leyburn consulting with his castel an, and when

Master Burke excused himself to give them privacy, she liked

him even more.

"No one seeing you would believe you almost drowned

yesterday." Rod lifted her fingers to his lips, then pressed a

kiss into her palm.

The scent of sandalwood stole to her as she fingered the

chain belt self-consciously. "I borrowed this."

"Keep it; it adds elegance to the tunic."

"But it's real gold!"

"Anything less would be unworthy of you."

Rosamond laughed. "That is a very flowery speech, my lord. I

like you better when you are less glib."

"Do you like me, Rosamond?" His green eyes searched her

face.

Her heart skipped a beat. She had begun to trust him. "Yes. I

didn't want to like you, but I do in spite of myself."

"Then I am content—for the moment."

"Tewkesbury is as fil ed with surprises as you are, my lord. You

are a col ector of beautiful things from around the world."

"It is a passion with me. Lord Edward cal s it a compulsion. I

col ect many things: swords from Scotland and Toledo, pottery

from Greece and Phoenicia, art from France, glass from

Venice. Wherever I go, without exception, I find something I

want."

"I am sure you found nothing at Pershore," she chal enged.

"On the contrary, I wanted everything at Pershore, its land, its

castle, its chatelaine."

"You are a compulsive col ector," she said lightly.

"I once told you I would never let you go. I meant it,

Rosamond."

Sir Rodger de Leyburn made her feel as if she were the most

important woman in the entire world. When they were together,

he focused his whole attention upon her, and she could not

help but respond to such flattering and complimentary

behavior. Yet she cautioned herself to be wary, for she knew

he was a practiced courtier, who could have, and likely had

had, any woman he wanted.

"Do you feel up to visiting Deerhurst today? It is a scant two

miles away."

There is no doubt you wil want it too, once you have seen it,

Rosamond thought. "Yes, our time grows short. Christmas is

less than a fortnight

101

away; at Kenilworth they wil be wondering what has

happened to delay us."

"You are a lady who is free to make her own choices, her own

rules. Eleanor de Montfort has always done that; she wil

expect no less of you, Rosamond."

"Lady Eleanor is a princess and a countess," she pointed out.

"Eleanor is first and foremost a woman, as are you, chérie."

Rosamond laughed. Rodger's words always imbued her with

self-confidence. "I must go and see Nimbus; she was very

frightened yesterday. Thank heavens the wolf trap did not

lame her."

"We'l leave in an hour. I have asked Master Burke to ride with

us to Deerhurst, if you have no objection."

"Master Burke is your one possession that I covet."

Rod slanted a teasing eyebrow. "Not the Viking bathing tub?"

"That too," Rosamond conceded with a smile.

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

As Deerhurst Castle came into view Rosamond wondered

how she could have stayed away so long. It immediately

insinuated itself into her heart and firmly embedded itself

there. But a deep sadness washed over her as she thought of

her brother, Giles, cruel y plucked from life before his prime.

Would the sharpness of the pain ever dul , ever be blunted?

Rosamond sighed heavily to disperse the scalding pain in her

heart and forced herself to think of happy childhood

memories.

She saw that de Leyburn's eyes were upon her, probably

gauging her mood, guessing at her thoughts, yet he said

nothing intrusive, al owing silence to prevail between them.

Rosamond noticed that the bailey had no weeds, the dogs

were penned, and al looked to be in order. A groom came to

tend their horses, and Deerhurst's steward, Master Gore,

greeted them and showed the proper respect when he

learned their identity.

Servants were dispatched to plenish chambers, and the cook

was sent word that the evening meal must be special for the

lady of Deerhurst and her betrothed. As they warmed

themselves before the fire in the Great Hal , they were served

spiced cider. Master Burke set an iron poker into the coals,

and when its end glowed red, he plunged it into Rosamond's

goblet, then he mul ed de Leyburn's cider in the same way.

102

While Sir Rodger and Burke examined the account books,

Rosamond spent the afternoon exploring Deerhurst Castle's

many chambers. She spent a poignant hour in the room her

parents used to share, and final y braced herself to enter

Giles's bedchamber. Drawings of his favorite dog stil lay upon

his desk, the paper now brown and withered. Rosamond

trailed loving fingers across the charcoal sketches. The

inkwel was dried up, the quil s stubbed and broken; Giles had

had little patience for letter writing.

When she opened the wardrobe and found some of his

garments from when he was a boy, a lump came into her

throat. When she gathered the sleeve of a doublet against her

cheek, her eyes fil ed with tears. He was a true Marshal male,

preferring the somber colors of dark green, mole, and ecru.

She decided to take the doublet and a pair of his chausses;

until now she had had nothing that belonged to him. She

folded the garments and put them on the end of the bed, then

she touched the articles on the bedside table. There was a

silver dagger, and a pewter casket that likely held a youth's

treasures. When Rosamond lifted the lid and found a

col ection of ladies' ribbons, she was momentarily

disconcerted. Then the corners of her mouth rose, and she

smiled through her tears, realizing the wild rumors concerning

Lord Edward's companions were not unwarranted. She

picked up the dagger and placed it alongside the garments

she intended to keep.

She and de Leyburn dined in the Great Hal , where she

insisted that Master Burke join them. The meal was not up to

Tewkesbury's standards, but it was good, and after dinner

Rosamond paid a visit to the kitchen to thank the cook and

her assistants. An elderly woman bobbed her a curtsy. "I made

gingerbread for you, my lady; it was Sir Giles's favorite."

A wedge of anger in her throat made it difficult for Rosamond

to speak. Giles should have dined with her tonight, enjoying

his gingerbread. Goddamn the Fates! she thought bitterly.

Why wasn't he al owed to live out his life? She took a piece of

the gingerbread and smiled at the woman. "I shal eat it for

him."

Rosamond was in no mood for company tonight; she

preferred Deerhurst's ghosts. She bade the two men good

night and retired to her chamber. She sat gazing into the fire

for over an hour, then suddenly the

103

floodgates opened and she sobbed out her heart. When at

last she quietened, Rosamond removed the amethyst gown,

deciding to sleep in her shift. She dreaded the coming night,

fearing the trampling dream.

A soft knock came at the door and Rosamond stiffened. She

had been half expecting him, for once a man had shared a

bed with a woman, especial y one as bold as de Leyburn, he

likely assumed he would be welcome there anytime.

"Rosamond, unbolt the door."

"Please, leave me be, my lord."

"Have you been crying?"

"Yes ... no... I want to be alone."

"You have been crying. There is no way I am going to let you

sleep alone tonight. Open the door!"