Virginia Henley (23 page)

“When Ravenspur came to your chamber last night, I sent him away on the thin excuse of your spinning head. If you dine with him dressed so, I doubt that even I will be able to fob him off tonight.”

“Did he really come last night?” asked Roseanna, inordinately pleased with herself. “Thank you, Kate. You saved me, and you will do exactly the same tonight or I shall banish you back to Castlemaine!” Roseanna teased. “Alice, I want you to brush all my hair to one side, like so. Let some of it fall down my back and some fall down my front so that it almost but not quite covers my left cheek and shadows my eye. Brush the other side up and back completely so that my neck and ear are bared, and then put this lovely sapphire moon-and-stars clasp just to the side of my temple.”

Kate scrutinized her as Alice brushed her hair. “Ravenspur will be able to see clear through to your tit-ties!”

Roseanna blushed. “I don’t care.”

Kate shook her head. “I’ll have to get you some hemlock to put in his wine.”

“Good God, I don’t want to kill him!” said Roseanna, shocked.

Kate was disgusted. “Brainless child. It’s good against your husband’s lechery—in small amounts, of course.”

“A poisonous tongue is a better weapon than a poisonous cup of wine,” said Roseanna firmly. “I must go
down, for I don’t wish to arrive late. He must find no fault with my behavior this evening.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “That will last ten minutes, and that’s stretching it. Roseanna’s best behavior, forsooth!” she hooted.

Serenely Roseanna floated from the room and went down to the castle’s private living quarters. Mr. Burke had set up a lovely table for two in the alcove and was just placing the goblets for the wine. Roseanna nodded to him politely but stayed across the room in case his sharp eyes saw through the material of her bodice.

One wall was covered by a large tapestry that must have taken years to complete. The workmanship was so fine, it actually looked like a painting. It showed some sort of banquet in which a man and woman were being served by many and were even being entertained by musicians. Ravenspur’s voice, close behind her, momentarily startled her, but she did not jump.

“It is a banquet of the gods. The eagle and peacock mark the presence of Zeus, king of the gods, and his consort, Hera. The god Pan provides music, as does Apollo with his lyre. Ganymede is serving them nectar, and the bow, arrows, and wings denote the presence of Eros, god of love.”

“I did not know you were a student of the classics.” As she turned to face him, his dark eyes lingered a moment on her mouth, then lowered to her breasts, which thrust boldly above the neckline of the filmy underdress. “I am not a serious student, but I have a fondness for beauty,” he said as he lifted his eyes to hers. “Thank you for joining me, Roseanna,” he murmured.

She raised a delicate brow. “I wasn’t aware that I had a choice.”

A slight frown creased his brow. “You will always have a choice. You think me some monster who must be obeyed?”

“You forced me to wed you against my will. Where was my choice then, my lord?” Her eyes blazed their challenge. Her best behavior had lasted nowhere close to ten minutes.

“A fate worse than death,” he murmured with a humorous glint in his eyes. He was determined that she would provoke no arguments tonight. He was dressed in a black padded doublet that emphasized his unbelievably wide shoulders. The only touch of color was a ruby in his ear. In their black and white they looked like bride and bridegroom. He bowed before her, took her hand, and led her to the table. He held her chair for her. His hands ached to caress her shoulders, but he restrained the impulse and took the chair opposite her. “Let us enjoy Burke’s supper without being at each other’s throats, my love.”

“I quite like Mr. Burke. He’s been with you for many years and must know where all your skeletons are buried.”

He ignored the barb. “Yes, he came from our estate in Ireland over twenty years ago.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You have a castle in Ireland?”

“Not exactly a castle. An estate of about fifty acres with a lovely manor house,” he told her as he poured mead into her goblet.

“They say Ireland is ideal for breeding horses. Whereabout in Ireland is your land?” she asked with quick interest.

The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement as he saw the speculation in her eyes. “It’s not far from Ravenglass
Castle, on the west coast. It’s just a short run across the Irish Sea to the Isle of Man, and then another short sail to Drogheda.”

“Do you have ships?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied smoothly. “Do you enjoy sailing?”

“I’ve never been aboard a ship, but the thought of sailing across the sea is thrilling.”

He smiled as he raised his goblet to her. “There are many thrilling things you haven’t yet tried.”

She looked him directly in the eye and answered boldly, “Perhaps I have tried more things than you give me credit for, Ravenspur.”

He smiled at her. “You avoid my given name like the plague, Roseanna. Are you afraid to call me Roger?”

“Me? Afraid? Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, tossing her head. Her hair flew back over her shoulder, then fell to the carpet in a silken, rippling, dark waterfall. He vowed that he would wrap himself in that hair before long. It was the most sensuous hair he’d ever beheld, and he longed to play with it.

Mr. Burke removed the first course and returned with two heavy silver tureens. When the covers were removed, a delicious aroma arose with the steam from the partridges. One dish held four roasted birds; the other held partridges cooked in wine with mushrooms and chestnuts. There was a panache of fresh greens to go with the game, but no other vegetables. The meal was simple yet elegant. They ate at a leisurely pace, yet each was filled with anticipation for the backgammon game that lay ahead. The air was charged with a subtle tension, for each was eager to challenge the other and emerge victorious.
They were so alike in temperament that neither even considered the possibility of losing.

Roger threw scraps to the wolfhound, who had roused himself from before the fire to investigate the delicious smells coming from the table. Roseanna reached for a ripe pear at the same moment as Roger, and their hands touched for an instant. It was as if a flame ran up her arm from his touch. She couldn’t keep a blush from staining her cheeks and was relieved when Mr. Burke created a diversion by bringing them rosewater bowls and towels to wash their hands. Roger nodded imperceptibly to Mr. Burke that he wished no further intrusions into the room; then he filled their goblets and took them over to the games table beside the fire.

Roger drew in his breath as Roseanna passed in front of the fire. Her body was clearly silhouetted through the filmy underdress. Again Roger held her chair, but this time as her hair brushed his hands, he stroked it. It crackled beneath his fingers.

“Beware, I give off sparks,” she laughed tauntingly.

The black stones on the backgammon table were carved from ebony, and the whites from ivory. He waved his hand that she should make the first throw. She picked up the two dice and rolled them onto the board. She had rolled a double of four and four, so she moved four stones four points each. She played intently and was determined to get all fifteen stones into her inner table before Ravenspur managed to do the same with his stones. He was playing negligently, allowing his attention to focus on her, so she wasn’t worried about losing. “You were so eager to begin. What stakes are we playing for?” he drawled.

“Money, of course,” she said, laughing.

He smiled. “What do you need money for?”

“Horses. I’m going to buy some decent mares to breed.”

“Then money it shall be. Five hundred pounds.” He watched her carefully, then asked casually, “Do you have five hundred pounds?”

“Of course not,” she said.

“Then how will you repay me?” he asked pleasantly.

“I’m going to win, not lose!” she pointed out.

“I see,” he said calmly, not seeing her logic at all.

With each throw of the dice, she made her point. She combined moving with bearing off, and in a short time she was elated because she’d won.

“I am playing at a disadvantage, Roseanna.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “How so?”

“Your beauty distracts me,” he murmured.

“What a poor excuse. You must concentrate. What shall we play for next?” she asked.

He considered a moment, then suggested, “Jewels? My ruby earring against your sapphire hair ornament.”

His lean brown fingers unfastened the earring, and he placed it before her on the board. She reached up for her moon and stars, and when she removed it, her hair tumbled down where it had been held back. He smiled into her eyes. “I suggested your sapphires only so that when you removed the clasp I would have the pleasure of seeing your hair fall around you in all its glory.”

“Ravenspur,” she said, beginning to feel a little uneasy, “pay attention to the game.” She picked up the two dice to roll.

“How can I?” he whispered. “You have deliberately used a perfume that robs me of my senses.”

“Fool!” She laughed nervously and challenged him to double.

“You have deliberately dressed to arouse me,” he said low.

“Liar!” she threw back.

“And you have succeeded,” he finished.

Toward the end of the game Roger had not borne off a single stone belonging to Roseanna, and she scored a gammon. She could not hide the triumph in her eyes. “Perhaps you will play a better game if we play for something closer to your heart,” she suggested.

“Name it, love.”

She ignored the endearment. “Your stallion has covered your only decent mare, and my Zeus has one of my mares in foal. I’ll put my colt up against yours.”

He watched her lovely lips as she concentrated on the play, doubling, and making point after point. He wanted the taste of her in his mouth; he wanted the feel of her beneath his body. He sipped his wine, knowing it did nothing to cool his hot blood. She was flushed with her victories and looked him directly in the eyes. “This time shall we play for the truth, my lord?”

“By that I suppose you mean the winner asks the loser a question and is entitled to the truth?”

“You take my meaning exactly, my lord.” She drained her mead and recklessly asked for some of his wine. Roger once more allowed her to win the gammon. Her eyes sparkled. “Now you will tell me exactly what happened when I came to the hunting lodge,” she said triumphantly.

He loved to watch her face; it was so expressive. She had a way of raising her delicate brows, and the light of challenge in her clear gray eyes pierced his, and he saw
the color change from gray to amethyst. The fire reflected one side of her cheek and caught sable highlights in her magnificent hair. Best of all was her mouth. As her name implied, it was deep velvet rose. Full, as if it were swollen by too many passionate kisses. It was shaped to give a man pleasure, whether he was looking at it or tasting it.

“I asked you a question,” she said, and he recalled what she had asked as he came out of his reverie. Of course he had no intention of telling her she had been rolled naked from a carpet in front of everyone present, so he passed over that bit and replied, “After Tristan gave you a sleeping draught, he put you in my bed as a delightful surprise for me. You know what a young devil he is,” added Ravenspur.

“When you found me naked in your bed, what did you do to me? And remember, I want the truth!”

His eyes glowed with the remembrance. “Well first, naturally, I had a damned good look at you.”

Her cheeks flamed their shame, and she choked angrily. “How could you be so disgusting?”

“Roseanna, there was nothing disgusting about it. You were the loveliest maid who had ever graced my bed. I would have had to be deranged not to look my fill.”

“Then what did you do?” she demanded fiercely.

“I got into bed and took you in my arms.”

She glared at him and waited for him to go on.

“I began to kiss you and caress you,” he continued.

“How dared you!” she spat. “Tell me, did you take further advantage of me?”

“No, Roseanna, I did not. I found kissing your unresponsive mouth too frustrating and unsatisfying. I decided to wait until morning when you awoke. At which
time I admit I had every intention of making love to you until I discovered you were my betrothed and a virgin.”

“I’m no virgin! I’ve had at least three lovers—aye, and I wish it were a hundred and three!” she threw at him.

He reached his hand across the gameboard and put his finger beneath her chin. “Roseanna, when dealing with an adversary, never lose your temper or you lose the advantage,” he advised.

“Are you my adversary?” she flared.

“I am not. However, you insist on casting me in that role.” His gaze licked over her like the tongue of a flame; she lowered her eyes quickly lest he see her involuntary response to him.

He asked lazily, “Why don’t we be reckless and play for something we really want?”

“What do I really want?” she challenged him.

“The manor and lands in Drogheda to raise your infernal horses.”

She laughed because he knew her so well. She felt lucky and knew the desired prize was only a few throws of the dice away. He was a reckless man, indeed, to gamble such a prize.

“If you lose,” he said, “I claim you spend one night with me.”

“Only one?” she taunted. “I hope your skill in bed surpasses your skill at backgammon.” He cocked his eyebrow, and she cried recklessly, “Done!”

She took the dice and rattled them hard, her head filled with visions of Ireland. For the first time he rolled a higher number, allowing himself the first turn. He rolled many doubles, while her dice came up unbelievably low. He made his points and moved his stones to his inner table so rapidly that she blinked in amazement. Ravenspur
was unperturbed and played so well that she began to suspect he had purposely allowed her to win up to now. He had deliberately tricked her into lowering her guard so she would fall into his trap! Her cheeks flamed with anger. She was determined that he would not beat her. She concentrated hard, but the doubling cube was already up to thirty-two in his favor, and she realized wildly that there was no way for her to win the game.