The Marriage Prize (5 page)

eagerly.

"Welcome home, Sim." She used the diminutive of his name,

as she always did when they made love.

He enfolded her against his heart and murmured, "You make

my life complete." Then he held her at arm's length to gaze

down at her. He dipped his head and kissed her closed

eyelids, amazed after al these years that his need for her was

as great as it had been when he had persuaded her to wed

him secretly. "Have you any idea how much I missed you?"

"Of course! You showed me when you arrived home in the

middle of the night. Now it's my turn to show you." Her tone

was deliberately teasing to mask the intensity of her emotions.

Whenever Simon rode off to war, she was afraid she would

never see him again. Over the years, she had schooled

herself never to show him her fear. How could he believe in his

own invincibility if she doubted him?

She clung to her beloved fiercely, knowing deep in her soul

that one day he would not ride home in victory. She pushed

the thought away and laughed up at him. "I always forget how

big you are."

"Let me refresh your memory," he said with a suggestive

smile, pressing his arousal against her soft bel y.

"Not just there," she said, laughing, "everywhere."

His hands were impatient as they removed her shift and then,

one by one, her hose. "Walk about for me," he urged.

Eleanor took the pins from her hair and let it fal about her,

cloaking her body. Then, prideful as a cat, she walked across

the chamber to the far corner. Though she was over forty, she

knew that in Simon's eyes, she would remain forever young,

forever beautiful.

He undressed and fol owed her, unable to resist the tempting

invitation of her body.

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"Carry me to bed," she whispered, and when he swept her up

in his powerful arms, she exulted in his strength and his

passion. When he was away on campaign, she had to be

strong, but now that he was here with her in the big bed, she

could be soft, and clinging, and feminine. The things he did to

her made her deliriously weak. His hands sought out al of her

body's sensitive places and touched them intimately; he knew

exactly how to arouse her with his fingers and his mouth, and

she reveled in the sensuality and desire his hard, powerful

body evoked when he pul ed her beneath him. Then with total

male assurance, he fil ed her with his great passion.

Eleanor knew exactly what he wanted. She wound her arms

about his neck and yielded everything, crying, "Sim, Sim!"

When he heard her use his Gaelic name in the throes of

passion, it raised gooseflesh on his dark skin. "I love you so

much, my precious jewel."

She touched her lips to his. She had never loved him more

than she did tonight.

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

The next day was marked by more arrivals. Two brothers,

Lincoln and John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, rode in with a

large train of knights. Then, two hours later, Richard de Clare's

son, Gilbert, arrived with his wife. His father had not al owed

him to go on the Welsh campaign because he was only

fifteen. Instead, he had been put in charge at Gloucester in his

father's absence.

Rosamond and Demi were delighted to see the red-haired

Gilbert, whom they'd known since they were children, but they

stared in disbelief at the dark-eyed beauty who accompanied

him. Because of the great de Clare fortune, King Henry had

married Gilbert to his foreign niece five years ago, but this

was the first time they had seen her. They watched Gilbert

greet his hostess, then make a quick escape to seek out his

friend, Harry of Almaine. If Eleanor de Montfort was surprised

to see the young woman at Kenilworth, she did not show it.

"This is Alyce de Clare, Gilbert's wife. May I present my

daughter Demoisel e, and Rosamond Marshal?"

"Welcome, Lady Alyce," Demi said dutiful y.

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Alyce's glance passed over the younger girl without interest

and came to rest on Rosamond. "Not another Marshal... there

is no end to them." Alyce spoke with a provocative French

accent.

Rosamond's eyes flashed with indignation and she opened

her mouth to protest.

"No, no, please do not try to explain your relationship to my

husband, it is too, too confusing. His cousins are as numerous

as Gloucester sheep!" Alyce turned back to the countess.

"Lady Eleanor, you are aware that Gilbert and I keep separate

bedchambers, separate quarters?"

Eleanor de Montfort looked her straight in the eye. "I am

aware of everything."

Gilbert's squire struggled in with a large trunk. Alyce said, "Ah, here is part of my luggage. First, I wil need a bath, no?"

With a straight face, Eleanor replied, "You need a bath, yes.

Come upstairs with me now."

"To wash off the smel of al those bloody Gloucester sheep!"

Rosamond declared before the elegant female was out of

earshot.

The king had married his half-brother's daughter, Alyce of An-

gouleme, into the wealthiest family of England. No matter that

Gilbert de Clare had been a boy of ten at the time of the

marriage, while Alyce had been a sexual y ripe young woman

of sixteen.

"Poor Gilbert," Demi murmured, "it must be awful to be

married to an older woman who is waiting for you to grow up."

"She doesn't think him old enough to share her bed, but she's

quite wil ing to share his wealth," Rosamond remarked.

"Yes, I saw that her riding cloak was trimmed with ermine."

"That's to proclaim to the world that she has royal connections.

Is it any wonder that the barons hate the king's foreign

relatives? They are like a plague of locusts, which outnumber

sheep any day!"

Demi giggled. "Mother was decidedly frosty with her. I warrant

she wil wear something spectacular tonight, to outshine her."

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

Lord Edward spent the first of what would be many days with

Simon de Montfort. They talked for hours, as they walked

shoulder to shoulder, exchanging ideas and sharing

knowledge of warfare, in which

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Edward had an intense interest. But they talked also about the

best ways to govern a country like England.

Earl Simon was a persuasive man, determined to win the heir

to the throne over to the side of the barons. He hoped Lord

Edward would see the popularity of the cause, as evidenced

by the number of earls and nobles who were present at

Kenilworth. This time they were determined to force the king

to abide by the promises he'd made at Oxford. Englishmen

must hold the highest administrative offices, rather than

Henry's foreign relatives and favorites.

Simon made sure to compliment Edward on his role in the

Welsh campaign. "I believe Llewelyn of Wales was persuaded

to sign the two-year truce because we stood together. When a

Plantagenet unites with his barons, it is an unbeatable force."

As the two men talked, Edward realized the wisdom of

Simon's words and he became more aware of the gravity and

responsibilities of the inheritance he would come into. Simon

believed that the king had a duty to his subjects as wel as

vice versa, and explained in detail how he felt. Though he

knew the prince loved his father dearly, he hoped he was not

blind to his deficiencies as a king.

Simon de Montfort discussed the Provisions of Oxford, which

the barons had forced King Henry to sign, and pointed out that

they were not drastic but reasonable, designed to provide a

system of fair government that would benefit noble and

commoner alike and make England stronger and far more

prosperous.

Edward and Simon argued different points, but their

discourse was affable and they found themselves in accord on

many political and military matters. They were joined by

Richard de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, who was the leading

peer in England. His name appeared first on the Provisions of

Oxford, though it was clear that Simon de Montfort was the

driving force behind the barons' cause.

When it was time for the evening meal, Eleanor de Montfort

quickly rearranged the seating on the dais at Lord Edward's

request, so that he was flanked by her husband and Richard

of Gloucester. Soon, the trio were engrossed in conversation,

oblivious to those about them. Simon and Gloucester were

arguing a political point. Richard thought

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the advantages gained by the Provisions of Oxford should

apply only to the nobility, while de Montfort insisted even the

common men who were dependent on the barons should

benefit and have a voice in Parliament. Lord Edward listened

to their different opinions intently.

Lady Eleanor wore a gown of deepest blue, with her famous

sapphires clasped about her throat. She had sent Bette, her

own tiring-woman, to the Demoisel e's chamber with

instructions that tonight her daughter was to wear pristine

white.

"Bette, it makes me look too young," Demi protested. "I want to wear red. Alyce de Clare wil be sure to wear something

dramatic to make herself the center of attention!"

"Take your mother's advice, she is very clever," Rosamond

urged. "White wil make you look virginal, something Alyce de

Clare should be, but obviously is not."

"Rosamond is right, my lamb," Bette coaxed. "Let me thread some pearls into your pretty hair."

The Demoisel e capitulated and sat before the mirror as Bette

took up the hairbrush. "What wil you wear, Rosamond?"

"Something drab and colorless," her friend declared. "I don't want to draw the unwanted attention of you-know-who, and I

wil come to the hal late, after everyone is seated."

Thirty minutes later, Rosamond stood before the polished

silver mirror while Nan fastened the back of the dun-colored

tunic. "Perfect," she declared as she covered her hair with a cloth.

"Perfectly hideous!" Nan contradicted. She knew Rosamond's

beautiful clothes lent her confidence, something the young

woman did not always feel, though she hid it wel . "You have

just enough time to change; I'l get the vivid jade green gown

that makes your hair look glorious."

"No thank you, Nan," she said stubbornly, "please go down to eat, or al the seats wil be taken." After her woman left,

Rosamond tarried another quarter hour, then made her

unhurried way down to the Great Hal . Her mind was busy

thinking of ways she could avoid sitting on the dais if a place

had been saved for her. If Lord Edward insists, I suppose I

have no choice, but at least I wil have kept them waiting, and

this ugly, drab

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tunic wil show Rodger de Leyburn I have no interest in

attracting his attention or pleasing him!

Rosamond had never seen the hal as crowded as it was

tonight. Al the tables and benches were fil ed from one end to

the other. As she looked about for an empty place, the

servitors rushed past her with food-laden trays, as if she were

invisible. No squire or page stepped forward to aid her.

Rosamond's gaze was drawn to the raised dais, where she

had dined last night. It was bril iantly lit, with torches and wax

candles showing off the splendid garments and jewels of

Kenilworth's guests of honor.

Lord Edward had certainly not saved her a seat. He was so

engrossed in his conversation with Earl Simon and Richard

de Clare, he wasn't even aware of Rosamond Marshal's

existence at this moment. Lady Eleanor sat regal y beside her

husband, her throat ablaze with sapphires. At her side the

Demoisel e looked like a fairy-tale princess, and redheaded

Gilbert de Clare sat staring at her with worshipful eyes.

Rosamond's gaze moved down the table and came to rest on

her cousin Harry of Almaine. Not even Harry had saved her a

place. Curse the rogue! There he sat, stuffing his face, swil ing

his wine, and laughing like a lunatic at something the lady

beside him said. Suddenly Rosamond's eyes widened in

disbelief. It was no lady at al , it was Alyce de Clare. And the

attentive dinner partner on her other side was Sir Rodger de

Leyburn! Alyce was flirting openly with the dark devil beside

her, smiling up into his eyes, slapping him playful y, then lifting

her hand to whisper something intimate.

Harry's words came flooding back to her: He can have any

woman he desires; he doesn't have to settle for you,

Rosamond. Splendor of God, the woman was sitting in her

seat, flirting with her betrothed, and to add insult to injury, the

bitch was wearing a vivid green gown! Rosamond looked

down at her own dun tunic in dismay and slowly backed out of

the hal . Never had she felt so unattractive, never had she felt

so insignificant, never had she felt so utterly sorry for herself!

No one seemed to be missing her at al !

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Three

Alyce de Clare had smooth, jet black hair that fel to her

shoulders. In contrast, her skin was pale as parchment and

her dark eyes were made to look even darker by the artful