Virginia Henley (21 page)

The contrast between the King and his young brother was startling. Here he stood without any trappings of office in a very worn leather jerkin, yet he held himself with such dignity that she knew there was intense force to be dealt with in the slight youth. As she studied his face, she saw its beauty and realized that she resembled him far more than she resembled the blond giant who was her father. So this was her uncle. She liked him, she decided. Gray eyes smiled into gray. “Will you sit with me in the hall tonight?” she asked.

“If Ravenspur will not look daggers at me.” Richard smiled.

“No, no, that is his natural look,” she teased, and sent her husband a challenging glance.

Tristan followed her upstairs. “Not quite the peacock you expected, is he?”

“No, but by God, I’ll bet he’s a man,” she said thoughtfully.

“Don’t tell me he has made a conquest of you. What will I do for amusement tonight if all your attention is reserved for Richard?” he complained.

“Oh, didn’t you know? Rebecca is joining me for dinner.” She slipped into the outer chamber and leaned back against the door to laugh. That would teach him not to be such a tease!

As Kate went to follow her into the inner chamber, she said, “Give me a few minutes alone, Kate. The King’s brother Richard dines with us tonight, so I want us all to look our best.” She closed the door, stripped off her glove, and unfolded the piece of paper.

Her breath caught sharply. God, he must not! Come to her for what? To make love to her? To sleep with her? This wasn’t what she wanted at all. Why hadn’t he sent her a poem, something she could sit and dream over? She realized that she did not want a flesh-and-blood lover. She had one of those to fight off every night. She needed Sir Bryan to be her gentle, perfect knight to love from afar. She sat down at her dressing table and silently thanked Mr. Burke for providing her paper and quills.

There was a knock upon her door; she folded the message quickly and called, “Come in.” It was Alice with her gown. “Alice, I need you to find Sir Bryan and give him a note. Don’t let Kate know, or anyone else for that matter. Go quickly—I’ll get Kate to help me dress.”

Roseanna picked up the beautiful velvet gown after Alice left and looked at it critically. It was the deep color of rich burgundy wine, and it was lavishly decorated with cream lace at the neck and sleeves. “Kate, come in here a moment and give me your advice.” She knew that that was an irresistible invitation. “I want to get rid of all this lace and leave the gown plain.”

Kate frowned. “Cream and burgundy are a perfect contrast for each other. With your black hair, you need the cream color for a highlight.”

“I agree about needing the cream color, but I was thinking of pearls. I have a six-strand choker with a ruby pendant attached, and I have strings of creamy pearls that we could thread through my hair. Yes, that’s the answer. Help me unpick this lace. You do the neckline, and I’ll do the sleeves. What gossip have you picked up about Ravenspur? Anything about his last wife?”

Kate was taken off guard. “Nay, nothing about his wives. I did learn that he has no special mistress tucked away. He consorted with whores when the need took him —oh, my lamb, have I shocked ye?”

“Not at all I’ve seen Cassandra, the infamous courtesan, although I didn’t realize her profession until the next day. God help my ignorance!”

“’Twas not ignorance, ’twas innocence, and innocence is very becoming in a bride.”

Roseanna snorted. “I want to get dressed early so I can go to Rebecca’s chamber and bully her into dining with me. Tristan’s another man with a taste for whores—or anything else in skirts—and Rebecca and I are going to wean him,” said Roseanna firmly.

Kate Kendall shook her head and spoke into the air. “One Montford isn’t enough for you. Oh no, you have to take on both. Roseanna, you are a glutton for punishment.”

Roseanna laughed, eager for the challenge. “Kate, save your pity for the Montford brothers. They are going to need it.”

When every last string of pearls she owned was threaded in intricate patterns through her tresses, Roseanna swept down the corridor to Rebecca’s room. She found her on the verge of tears amid a pile of gowns.

“I cannot go down. I have nothing to wear!” wailed her sister-in-law.

Roseanna went to her wardrobe and subjected each gown to scrutiny. “This is perfect!” It was a deep rose pink with a quilted satin bodice and sleeves. “See, the quilting will fill out your figure deliciously, and think of how well our colors will look together when we sit next to each other.”

“Oh, if only I had some pearls so I could thread them through my hair like yours,” pined Rebecca.

“We can do the same thing with ribbon. In fact, it’s much easier to thread ribbon through hair—you’ll see.”

“The hardest part for me is walking into the hall. I wish there were some way I could slip in unseen.” Rebecca sighed.

“A fate worse than death! I love to be dramatic. We shall be purposely late, and that will assure that every eye is trained upon us. I learned long ago that you cannot control what people say about you. They can say kind, admiring, flattering things, or they can say cruel, jealous, catty things. I don’t care which, as long as they don’t pity me!”

The remark hit home. Rebecca thought that if she followed Roseanna’s advice, perhaps they wouldn’t pity her anymore.

    Ravenspur’s face glowed with pride as Roseanna walked to the dais. Men really did gaze openmouthed at her beauty. Tristan blinked rapidly when he saw how lovely his own wife looked for once, and it reminded him of the first time he’d seen her, five years before.

Richard had changed from his rough leathers into a black velvet doublet with wide padded shoulders and a
most startling pair of white satin hose that clearly showed the bulge of his manhood. The device of the Duke of Gloucester, a white boar, was emblazoned on his shoulder. He had a grace about him that the Montford men did not possess. His manners were impeccable. First he kissed Roseanna’s hand, made her a leg, and complimented her gown. Then he repeated the process with Rebecca, who blushed prettily.

Roseanna quickly rearranged the seating. She placed Richard as guest of honor between herself and Ravenspur, sat Rebecca on her other side, and invited Tristan to sit next to his wife. Then Roseanna proceeded to engage Richard in such an animated conversation, skillfully drawing in Rebecca, that the three of them laughed their way from the first course through the main course. She kept a strict eye on everything that went onto Rebecca’s plate so that she would not be overfed while at the same time she plied Richard with many questions about London and the Court at Westminster and the latest fashions.

“I fear I’ve raised eyebrows here tonight with these white satin hose, but I swear they are conservative by Court standards. The latest fashion is particolored hose, and the clergy are denouncing fashions such as beribboned codpieces as licentious—which of course they are,” said Richard, laughing. “Each season the doublets get shorter and the hose tighter, which is all very well for those of us in the prime of our youth. But it makes for some hilarious caricatures in older men.”

“Like Ravenspur?” asked Roseanna with a twinkle in her eye.

Richard said, “What a wicked thing to say.” But he couldn’t help laughing.

Roger at one end and Tristan at the other were almost
ignored. Their eyes met, and they commiserated with each other.

“Can you stay with us awhile, Your Grace?” Roseanna asked.

“Alas, this has been a delightful respite for me, but I return to border patrol at dawn.”

“Then we must have some music and dancing so you can drop your heavy responsibilities for a few hours.” She turned to Rebecca and softly asked, “Are you feeling well?”

Rebecca smiled and nodded. “Promise me you’ll stay long enough to dance with Richard,” Roseanna whispered.

Rebecca whispered back, “I might even dance with Tris if he asks me nicely.” She giggled. “He had to take my hand under the table to get my attention.”

Good,
thought Roseanna.
Now if I can only run my own life as easily as I run others’.
She gave Ravenspur a swift sideways glance and found his eyes upon her. Suddenly he gave her a very suggestive wink. Flustered, she turned to Richard and said, “I claim the first dance, Your Grace.”

“Please call me Richard. I want us to be friends.” As they danced, he said, “When you visit London, be sure to take a ride in the Royal Barge at night. It’s most exhilarating. The Thames current runs very fast, especially under London Bridge, and at night the lit torches stream tails of sparks like comets. But be sure to take a perfumed pomander with you—the Thames stinks, I’m afraid.”

She looked up at him. “From what I’ve heard, all Rivers stink!” He doubled over with laughter, for she referred to the Queen’s father, Lord Rivers, who at sixty was still as randy as a goat.

“Though I’m loyal to Edward in all things, I must admit I quite detest Elizabeth and her whole tribe,” he confided.

“Why?” asked Roseanna with simple curiosity.

He thought for a moment and then said, “I think it’s because, as the King’s brother, she insists I kneel before her and kiss her hand. Yet never must my lips actually touch her skin. She is absolutely inviolate!”

“’Tis most curious, but I’ve yet to meet someone who likes her.” Now that she thought of it, even King Edward, her father, had warned her of the Queen and her family. Hated by all, she would be a formidable enemy. Roseanna decided to ask Ravenspur his opinion of her.

The musicians played tirelessly. Roseanna was pleased to see Rebecca partner first Richard and then Tristan for the gay galliard, that deliciously decadent dance in which the male lifts his partner high enough in the air to show her ankles and petticoat.

Ravenspur took Roseanna’s hand and led her to the dance. “I’d rather not, my lord,” she protested.

“You have purposely ignored me all evening, Roseanna. You will learn that that is a dangerous thing to do,” he whispered teasingly. The pressure of his hand on the small of her back forced her feet forward reluctantly. Then suddenly, breathlessly, he lifted her higher than any other woman in the room. The musicians quickened the tempo, and the dancers became more abandoned. On the second lift, he kept her in the air for thirty seconds. “Ravenspur, please!” she cried. All the dancers were kicking up their heels wildly now, and it became a contest to see who could hold their lady longest in the air. Everyone was laughing playfully, and even Roseanna began to enjoy the silliness. She couldn’t help giggling when
her husband held her in the air and his fingers curled into her ribcage and tickled her unmercifully.

“Put me down!” she cried, now almost helpless with laughter.

Roger’s eyes glittered up into hers wickedly. “Cry mercy!” he told her, and he only allowed her feet to touch the floor for one second before he lifted her again.

“Ravenspur, please?” she begged.

“Say Roger,” he laughed. She shook her head, and he held her on high until her skirt fell about her thighs and exposed her stockings.

“Roger, Roger!” she cried, and quickly he let her down and took her into his embrace. She looked up at him, and suddenly they both stopped laughing. He was aflame with desire, and his secret part grew hard against her soft body. Needing the taste of her, he bent his head to ravage her mouth. Her response was so instant, so hot, that it shamed her. She pulled away, horrified at the desire she felt for him. Her body’s reaction mauled her pride.

“Are you mine, Roseanna?” he murmured softly.

“Never!” she hissed, and ran from the hall. Her heart was beating wildly. He always affected her that way. First she would feel so cool and calculating and think she could easily manipulate and handle him; then without warning her body would turn traitor on her, and she would no longer be in control of herself. She knew her time was growing short. He would not be put off much longer. He was far too virile to put up with this arrangement indefinitely.

When she reached Kate and Alice’s chamber, she suddenly thought of Bryan. If Ravenspur ever found him there, he would kill him without hesitation. She prayed that Bryan would not come. “Oh, Alice, help me unthread
these pearls from my hair. I’ve danced too much; my poor head is spinning.” Alice put her jewelry away in its coffers, and Kate helped her remove the burgundy gown.

She moved toward her own chamber, then stopped and took Kate’s hand. “Kate,” she said very seriously, “if ever I had a visitor—one who came very late—you wouldn’t let him into my chamber, would you?” she pleaded.

“Need you ask such a thing? Off to bed with you, child!”

    Roger lay in bed a long time, but sleep had seldom been as far away as it was this night. Why had he allowed this situation to develop? he asked himself over and over. He had made a very bad blunder on their wedding night when he left the nuptial bed to sleep on the couch. The marriage should have been consummated that night, even if force had been necessary. What bridegroom didn’t have to use his superior strength to overcome a bride’s reluctance? The trouble was, Roseanna was no ordinary woman. She was not only more beautiful than other women, she was finer in every way. She was accomplished and intelligent, and he did not need to remind himself that she was royal. Her bloodlines were evident. She was his heart’s desire, and he wanted her for his soulmate. He longed for that transcendence, that sense of crossing each other’s boundaries and becoming one.

He mocked himself for a fool. At this moment he was so frustrated, he would be willing to settle for a purely physical relationship. If she had haunted him before they were married, now she was like a fever in his blood. His need for her grew with every heartbeat. He was obsessed
with her in body and mind. If he allowed it to go on much longer, there could be such a cataclysmic encounter that it would destroy them both.