Virginia Henley (38 page)

He retreated with a bottle to blot out his deep anxiety. After two hours Tristan joined him; then after four Mr. Burke, too, sought their company and had the good sense to bring another bottle.

Roseanna’s labor was normal for a first child. Fourteen hours after she felt the first twinges, she bore a son and heir for Ravenspur. By the time the news of Roseanna’s safe delivery was brought to them, the three men were nervous wrecks. They came down from their high turret on shaky legs, vowing never to go through a similar ordeal again.

“Don’t forget Roseanna’s gift,” prompted Tristan, “not after all the time and trouble you took to have it made.”

Roger unlocked a coffer and took out a velvet box. Then the three of them entered the room where Roseanna was lying in. They were all grinning like lunatics as she held up her beautiful son for inspection; then before
any of them could actually touch him, she tucked him back protectively at her side.

Kate Kendall ushered Tristan and Mr. Burke out of the chamber. “We’ll leave them alone for a minute, shall we?”

Mr. Burke turned to her and said, “You did real good, Katie,” and Kate actually bridled.

Roger looked at his wife, pale but triumphant, and said, “Roseanna, my heart overflows with love for you.” He gently caressed her and held her to his heart. Then he pulled down the blanket to have a good look at his beautiful son.

“I’d like to name him after both my fathers—Edward Neville,” she said.

He nodded. “We’ll call him Ned.”

She lifted her face to receive his kiss; then as his mouth went lower, she threw her head back, and his lips devoured her throat. Her hands slipped inside his shirt, and her fingers came into contact with the velvet box. “What’s this?”

She gasped as she opened the box. It was a magnificent necklace of diamonds and rubies with a large teardrop pearl to nestle in the cleft of her breasts. There were matching pearl drops for her ears. “Such precious jewels!” she exclaimed.

“Roseanna, you are my precious jewel,” he whispered.

“Hand me my mirror,” she urged him after he had fastened the necklace for her. As she gazed at the reflection of her creamy skin, her jet black hair, and her throat encrusted with the glittering diamond and ruby stones, she thought breathlessly, I
am beautiful

The christening was held in August, and a very lavish
affair it turned out to be. The King and his Court arrived, as well as his brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester.

In actuality, the North was in an uproar, ready to flare like a bonfire. From Yorkshire to the northernmost border of England had always been Warwick country; Edward and Richard were on their way to York to shake their mailed fists at Warwick’s supporters.

At the banquet following the christening, the King presented Roseanna with the Queen’s gift. Elizabeth had stayed behind in London, but she had sent a lavish gift of gold plate for Roseanna’s new son.

“She is too generous, Your Grace,” said Roseanna with the utmost delight.

The King grinned. “’Tis my money she is generous with, my Rosebud. Ravenspur, now that you are starting your own dynasty, why don’t you let me raise you to the peerage?”

Roger shook his head. “Nay, baron is high enough for me, as I’ve often told you before.”

“Roger!” scolded Roseanna. Turning to the King, she said, “If you are in a generous mood, Your Grace, you may give my son a title in his own right.”

Roger looked abashed. “My God, the woman is insatiable where her new son is concerned. Are not my wealth and titles enough for him, madame?”

Edward bent to whisper to his friend Roger, “She cannot help her ambition; ’tis in her Plantagenet blood.” He considered for a moment, then said, “From henceforth he shall be Viscount Gainsborough. There is a small town that goes with the title. ’Tis on the River Trent, just north of Lincoln.”

She swept into a deep curtsey. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Your Grace.”

The King spoke up. “Richard, I hereby make you Warden of the West Marches against Scotland.” A hush fell on the room, for the title had been Warwick’s since he was seventeen years old. Richard knew the people of the North would resent him bitterly and that it was no easy task the King had set him.

“Henry Percy,” the King called in his booming voice, “to you I give the titles previously held by Warwick’s brother John. The Wardenship of the East Marches and the Earldom of Northumberland are yours.”

Everyone in the room gasped. At last Edward was stripping Warwick and his family of their land and titles. Such was the price of treason; yet none in that room sat easy, least of all Ravenspur. He was glad he’d refused the title Ned offered him. He wanted no title that had been stripped from Warwick, for he knew the mettle of such an adversary.

    In France, Warwick had wasted little time. For generations, the sons of the noble families of Scotland had done service with the Kings of France. At the present time King Louis XI even had a hundred archers known as the Scotsguard. Warwick easily persuaded King Louis to lend him ships and troops to return to England and seize the throne.

In September, Warwick sailed for England with an escort of French ships. Two great landholders who had been visiting France, Jasper Tudor and the Earl of Oxford, joined forces and sailed with him, as well as, of course, the King’s brother George, Duke of Clarence.

King Edward’s spies reported that Warwick set sail on September ninth. As soon as he received the messages, he sent for Percy and Ravenspur to join him in York. They
expected Warwick to land in Yorkshire, where his following was strongest, but news soon came to York that Warwick had landed in Devon and had been welcomed in Exeter like a returning hero.

King Edward sent to Warwick’s brother John to bring his soldiers from Pontefract, but John had been stripped of his titles and had decided to join Warwick, who was marching toward Warwickshire and Coventry with a vast army. A few men deserted in the dead of night and joined the King.

The news for Edward was all bad. Everywhere Warwick went, he raised troops easily, he met no opposition whatsoever. Edward, Richard, Percy, Ravenspur, and the other Yorkist nobles rode from York into Nottingham to rally men.

Roseanna was thrown into total confusion when the King and most of his army landed at Ravenspur without notice. Every room was filled to overflowing with his knights and lieutenants, and the park was a sea of tents. Though it was barely October, winter had arrived with a vengeance, bringing with it high gales. She saw little of Roger, as he spent hours with the King and his nobles making plans, arguing, and listening while each man had his say.

His voice was almost gone from shouting. He wanted the King to stay and fight, and he argued day and night that they should take the offensive and march out to meet Warwick. But the King received much conflicting advice. The thing he wished to avoid at all costs was becoming Warwick’s prisoner again. Edward realized that if it happened again, he would not escape with his life. His and Warwick’s fight was now a fight to the death; whoever fell into the other’s hands would die.

The Duke of Burgundy was Edward’s brother-in-law. He decided to flee England to gather a force greater than Warwick’s.

Roger was also kept on the run planning provisions for the great number of mouths to feed. He would fall into bed at night exhausted, with only enough strength to pull Roseanna against him for the rich succor she offered. In the privacy of the great high bed, he held her fiercely.

“God’s balls, it is not in my nature to back down from a fight!”

Roseanna was filled with a nameless fear. She went hot one moment and ice cold the next. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from begging him to stay; then a moment later she pressed her fist to her mouth to stop herself from begging him to flee. In a calm voice that surprised even her, she asked, “What will you do?”

The question amazed him. “My duty, of course. My loyalty is pledged to Edward. He has decided on Burgundy, and that is where we go.” His arms tightened around her. “Warwick is close on our heels. We leave at dawn. I have to lead the King and his men through The Fens to the coast.”

“No!” she cried, unable to hide her fear any longer.

Their voices disturbed the sleeping child, and he cried lustily in protest. She was out of bed in a trice, crooning to the child as she rocked his cradle. Roger could not bear the emptiness beside him.

“Bring him into bed with us. We may not be together again for a long time. I wish to God you were safe in sanctuary again with the Queen.”

The baby nuzzled her breast, seeking the nipple, so she undid the ribbons and removed her nightgown. Her
breasts swelled so beautifully, Roger was transfixed. “I’ll guard him with my life,” she promised softly.

Silently he thought,
That is what I am afraid of
Aloud he said, “I have only three of my ships anchored on this coast; the other six are sailing out of Liverpool on the west coast. But they bring in great wealth, Roseanna. I’ve signed the papers necessary for you to administer everything in our son’s name. Should anything happen to me, he will come into the wealth and title immediately.”

She put her fingers to his lips to silence him, and he veiled his eyes because he did not want her to see that her most casual touch had exploded desire in him like gunpowder. Her throat ached with unshed tears as she clung to him for these last precious hours. Finally, when the child slept, she took him back to his cradle and stood over him a long time, tears staining her cheeks.

Roger knew of only one way to make her fears recede, if only for a little while. He slipped from the bed and enfolded her in his strong embrace. When their bodies touched, desire exploded between them, making them unable to think, only feel. He lifted her high above his heart, then let her body slowly slide down his until he was sheathed to the hilt inside of her. She cried out with the pleasure-pain and wrapped her legs tightly around him. Then slowly he carried her back to bed, keeping his hardness deep inside her body. He began a rhythmic thrusting, drawing his length almost fully out, then driving back into her again and again until they both exploded and cried out together from the intensity of their passion.

He knew she would sleep deeply now. When her relaxed body drifted into slumber, he arose and went down to break camp and lead the men through The Fens.

During the next two days, Roseanna tried to curb a
fierce restlessness. She felt as if the walls of Ravenspur were closing in on her; she could not dispel a feeling of impending catastrophe. On the third day she could stand being cooped up no longer, so in spite of the gale-force wind that was blowing, she saddled Zeus and rode hard and fast away from the park, which was still littered from the army that had been encamped there such a short time before.

She rode for two hours and was beginning to feel her spirits lift. But as she galloped back into the courtyard of Ravenspur, her heart caught in her throat at the sight of a troop of horses awaiting her.

George, Duke of Clarence, watched avidly as the ravishing woman rode up on the wild black stallion. She was wrapped in white furs, and her black hair, disheveled from the wind, swirled around her like a second cloak of sable. He felt his jaw sag as the full impact of her beauty hit him. So this was one of his brother’s women! No wonder he lavished gifts on her. Well, now she would be his to enjoy, along with the crown!

Roseanna recognized him instantly, though she had never before seen him. His extraordinary height and resemblance to the King were impossible to mistake. He strode forward and took her horse’s bridle as she dismounted. She did not curtsey to him but offered him his correct title. “Your Grace, what do you want here?”

He leered down at her. “You, now that I have seen you!”

Her eyes snapped, and she lifted her chin in defiance, but she kept a rein on her tongue. “If you are passing through, allow me to offer you refreshment before you leave.”

The smile left his face. “You know damned well why
I’m here, you arrogant little bitch! My tight-arsed brother has escaped, thanks to Ravenspur—fled like the coward he is. Don’t try to deny it—the evidence of his army is everywhere. When did they leave?” he demanded.

“A week ago,” she lied.

He was secretly relieved that they were too long gone to pursue further. When he rejoined Warwick, he would keep his mouth shut about finding evidence. He’d keep the treasures of Ravenspur for himself! He licked his lips in anticipation as he looked his fill at Roseanna. His brother wouldn’t keep a whore who wasn’t well versed in the arts of the flesh. Her lush mouth and breasts spoke volumes.

Roseanna’s color was high as she stood amid the gaping mounted men. The Duke of Clarence remounted and leered down at her. “One day soon I shall return, madame.” His eyes narrowed, and he added, “I mean to have you.”

Roseanna was incensed. The man was vile! How could two brothers be so different? Now she realized why Roger had urged the King to put his brother in the Tower, and she understood fully Elizabeth Woodville’s venomous hatred of the man.
Just wait until Roger returns,
she thought heatedly. Then with hollow despair she realized what Roger’s exile meant.