Read The Marriage Prize Online
Authors: Virginia Henley
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
application of kohl, imported at great expense from Egypt.
She had mastered the art of flirtation and behaved in a
provocative manner to al men save her husband.
Alyce was now a sensual and sophisticated woman of twenty-
one, but even at sixteen, when she had first come from
Angouleme, she had been able to wrap her uncle, King Henry,
about her finger and easily manipulate him. In a magnanimous
gesture, the king had married her into the wealthy de Clare
family. Wisely, Alyce had made no protest that Gilbert the Red
was only ten years old, for one day he would inherit the
powerful earldom of Gloucester. Gilbert's father, Richard de
Clare, the Earl of Gloucester, had been flattered at the al iance
with the royal family, but the marriage had raised many
eyebrows and the barons had been angry that another foreign
favorite had been al owed to dip her fingers into English
coffers.
At this moment, Alyce dipped her finger into a wine goblet,
then sucked it provocatively. "Mmm, delicious."
Rodger de Leyburn lifted a dark brow. "You do know that's my
wine, Alyce?"
"Of course I know. Where's the pleasure in dipping my finger
into my own... chalice?"
"You are a born tease, and greedy too," Rod murmured.
"And I am impatient!" She stuck out the tip of her tongue.
He eyed her with amused tolerance. "Keep that in your
mouth."
"Oooh, I bet you say that to every female you bed!"
"I don't need to persuade them." He grinned.-
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"Rod, Rod ... there is something about your name I adore. It is
so very wicked and suggestive."
"You are the one who is being wicked and suggestive, Alyce."
"Yes, we 'ave so much in common."
"We do, chérie." He raised his goblet and winked at her over its rim. "You must behave yourself for just a little while longer."
She gestured for Sir Rodger's squire, Griffin, to clear the
table, then tapped long nails in an impatient staccato.
"Anticipation is said to harden the pleasure, no?"
"Heighten the pleasure," Rod corrected, "though there is likely more truth in the way you say it."
Alyce dragged her attention from Rodger's handsome face to
eye Harry. She slapped his wrist and hissed, "Stop eating, or
we'l never be able to leave."
Rod winked at him. "Some of us have other appetites to
slake."
******************
would get no dinner tonight. She snatched off the ugly head-
cloth and paced her chamber, venting the anger she felt
toward those who had ruined her tranquility. Her mind was
fil ed with the picture of Alyce de Clare up on the dais, with her
beautiful black hair, her exquisite clothes, and her potent
al ure. Rosamond spoke to the empty room. "Why does she
have to be so bloody attractive? And why did she have to
come to Kenilworth?" Rosamond answered her own
questions. "Because al the men are here, and it is
disgustingly obvious that Alyce loves men!" Wel , she could
have them. Rosamond had been content enough at Kenilworth
until Lord Edward and his lecherous steward had arrived to
swagger about, remind her of her betrothal, and destroy her
peace of mind.
The image of Rodger de Leyburn rose up, darkly compel ing
and undeniably attractive, and suddenly it was crystal clear
why the maddening Alyce de Clare had come rushing to
Kenilworth. "Oh my God," she whispered, "the green-eyed devil is dal ying with a married woman while he is pledged to
me!"
Slowly, Rosamond realized that here was her opportunity to
rid herself of the odious de Leyburn. She would go to him and
ask him
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straight out to release her. Under the circumstances, he could
hardly refuse, especial y if she caught him and Alyce together!
Rosamond wasn't even sure which chambers had been
assigned to Lord Edward and his companions, but
unquestionably they would be staying in one of Kenilworth's
five great towers. The impregnable Caesar Tower was the
private domain of Eleanor and Simon, while the chamber she
shared with Demi was in the Lady Tower. Most likely the young
nobles had been accommodated in the Warwick Tower, which
was larger than the others and close to the bathhouse.
Rosamond opened the wardrobe to find a cloak with a hood
that would cover her pale hair. The passageways of the castle
late at night were dim, some even unlit, but she didn't want to
be recognized prowling about the knights' quarters, and her
golden hair would identify her immediately.
Rosamond slipped on a dark purple cloak and took great
pains to tuck every last strand of her long hair inside the hood.
When she opened the chamber door, she could hear music
from the Great Hal and knew she would have time to climb to
the castle ramparts before the evening's entertainment ended.
By avoiding the gatehouse that looked out over the causeway,
and by keeping to the shadows, Rosamond evaded the
soldiers on night patrol. When she came to the Warwick
Tower, she stationed herself on the parapet, where she could
keep watch through an arrow slit. Then she wrapped her cloak
tightly about her and leaned against a stone merlon to wait.
It was a long time before Lord Edward climbed the tower
stairs, but within a few minutes, she watched the rest of his
gentlemen arrive, including Rodger de Leyburn. She noted
that he occupied the chamber next to Edward's, and schooled
herself to patience while their own squires and a few of
Kenilworth's servants took care of the young nobles' needs.
When the tower fel silent, Rosamond began to doubt her vigil
would bear fruit. Surely no lady would venture forth to this al -
male bastion at this ungodly hour? Rosamond gauged that it
was close to midnight, and she certainly had never before
been abroad so late.
Then she saw her. The lady was cloaked, but hadn't bothered
to cover her hair, so there was no mistaking Alyce de Clare.
Rosamond
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heard her rap twice on Rodger de Leyburn's door. It swung
open immediately and the black-haired vixen disappeared
inside.
******************
"Alyce, I thought you had changed your mind."
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "You know me better than
that, darling. In fact, I warrant you know everything about me. I
am more eager tonight than I was five years ago."
Rod grinned. "Anticipation hardens the pleasure." He snuffed the candles, and heard the tempting rustle of her garments in
the darkness. As he moved toward the bed, his memory
winged back to that unforgettable night five long years ago.
The wedding of Alyce of Angouleme and Gilbert de Clare was
solemnized at Westminster Palace, where the bride's father
lived in luxury. The marriage of the king's niece was a glittering
occasion, with celebrations lasting for an entire week, al at
the expense of Henry, who was eager to impress and earn the
admiration of his half-brothers from the Continent.
The dark-eyed bride received the name of de Clare, the
noblest in the land, which brought her untold riches and wealth,
not only in money, but in land and castles. Gilbert, the ten-year-
old bridegroom, received only a hunting dog as his reward.
Yet Rod clearly remembered thinking that they had both been
shortchanged. Al week, Alyce had flirted outrageously with
him. She was sixteen and overripe for her first sexual
encounter. It was obvious that she could not be expected to
wait for Gilbert to grow up and satisfy her, so Rod took it upon
himself to solve her dilemma and, at the same time, reap his
own reward.
He fondly recal ed the details of that first encounter. Alyce
wore a cream-colored gown of rich lace. They fed each other
wine and sweetmeats and wedding cake, laughing together
as the guests became more and more intoxicated. When
Alyce could no longer keep her hands off him, he pul ed her to
her feet and led her through the labyrinth of Westminster until
they reached his bedchamber.
Rod could stil remember unfastening the lace gown—exactly
twenty-four buttons—then opening the adjoining door to
fifteen-year-old Prince Edward's suite of rooms. "My lord, here
is a bride who has
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been sorely neglected. She is desperately in need of royal
succor. As a prince and a gentleman, I know you wil not
ignore her plight." Rod kissed her hand with gal antry. "Alyce, I promise you a knight you wil never forget."
Now, as he lay on the bed with his arms folded behind his
head, Rod smiled into the darkness with satisfaction. The day
after the two half-cousins had spent the night together, Lord
Edward had appointed Rod steward of his royal household.
******************
enough time to compromise themselves. She would not
knock; there was nothing polite about her intent. She would
simply throw open the door and surprise them in each other's
arms. She gathered her courage for what she was about to do
and took a deep breath. Her fingers closed about the iron
ring, and she firmly turned it until the bar lifted. To her complete
chagrin, the heavy oak door swung open to reveal nothing but
total darkness and complete silence.
She let out her breath and took a tentative step inside the
chamber. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw light
coming from beneath another door across the room. Realizing
the couple were in the adjoining chamber, she moved silently
across the floor, then paused to listen. Rosamond heard a
woman's sensual laugh, and there was no mistaking to whom
it belonged.
Without warning, she felt a powerful hand cover her mouth.
Rosamond almost came out of her skin and would certainly
have screamed if the hand had not prevented her. Her breath
caught in her throat and her heart hammered with fright.
"Do not open it, Rosamond."
The fierce whisper was so low, she wondered if she had
imagined it, until she felt his mouth touching her ear. She knew
who it was immediately, and struggled to remove his hand.
Then his arm came around her like a steel band to hold her
motionless.
"Hush!"
It was a command she could not disobey, and as she stil ed,
Rosamond heard a rustle and a laugh that told her Alyce was
directly on the other side of the closed door.
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"Edward, you real y do have the longest shank in the realm!"
"Shank? It is a royal scepter, my little wanton."
"It is a formidable weapon; sheath it before I faint."
"I’l make you faint, by God" he growled fiercely, thrusting himself inside her.
Rosamond heard Alyce cry out, then she heard a steady,
rhythmic thumping against the door. It seemed to go on
forever, accompanied by the couple's moans and gasps.
"Oooh I love to be taken against the door, it shows your
towering impatience for me."
Even in the darkness, Rosamond knew she was blushing. She
felt the warmth from her cheeks spread to the tips of her
breasts. She had always been sheltered from carnal
knowledge, but the pair's amorous coupling against the door
was so graphic, it left little to the imagination. Rosamond felt
hot threads spiral inside her bel y, and she became acutely
aware of her undergarments brushing against her skin,
arousing sensations that were new and strange.
"Now, now, oh please, Edward, now!"
"You beg so prettily, Alyce, how can I resist? "
The thumping came faster and louder until a half-scream
began and was quickly muffled. A long silence was fol owed
by a heartfelt sigh. "Your mouth ravages me like no other
—carry me to bed." The laughter of the playful couple
gradual y faded as they moved away from the door, until al
was quiet. Rosamond could hear her own pulse beating
against her eardrums. She closed her eyes and felt the blood
drain from her face. She had just heard Alyce de Clare
commit adultery with Prince Edward.
Rodger de Leyburn removed his hand from Rosamond's
mouth and led her silently to the far side of his chamber. He lit
a torch in the wal bracket, then pushed back her hood until her
golden hair spil ed about her. One glance at her pale face and
trembling lips told its own story. Without a word, he poured her
some wine and lifted it to her lips.
"How did you know it was me?" she whispered.
"Your fragrance is unique. Drink," he ordered softly, pushing her down into a chair.
She obeyed him and felt a blood-red rose bloom in her
breast.
"Rosamond, you are privy to a secret that none save you and I
knows about."
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"I... I thought she was with you."
"That is the whole idea. Everyone has thought that for five
years. Al are wil ing to look the other way at a little dal iance. It is another matter entirely for Lord Edward to be bedding the
wife of Gilbert de Clare. You must not breathe a word of this