A Rough Wooing

by Virginia Henley

  Greystoke led her directly to his own bedchamber, where a copper bath stood before the fire. Her glance swept about the room. The furniture was polished black oak, the hangings gold velvet, and the huge bed dominated the chamber.

  A manservant appeared carrying two buckets of steaming water. He added it to the water already in the copper tub.

  Douglas smiled. “Thank you so much.”

  The man acknowledged her thanks with a nod, and withdrew.

  She sat down in a chair before the fire and proceeded to remove her boots. Then she took off her knitted hose and wriggled her bare toes in the deep-piled carpet. She paused, wondering if he would leave. When Greystoke remained, she deliberately reached up and unpinned her braids, then with deft fingers she loosened the plaited strands. She shook her head and the fiery red tresses tumbled about her shoulders. Her eyes met his in a challenge. When he made no move to leave, she was determined that he would not intimidate her, nor inhibit her, for that matter. She turned her back on him and began to unfasten the buttons at her neck. “I’ll need a towel,” she threw over her shoulder, “and something clean to put on.”

  Silence behind her made her glance back. Greystoke had disappeared. With all speed she stripped off her leather breeches and the rest of her clothes and climbed into the tub.

  The water covered only her legs and hips, but she scooped up handfuls and splashed it over her belly and breasts. Douglas let out a blissful sigh, and picked up the soap and sponge.

  The door opened. Greystoke hadn’t disappeared for long. He closed the distance between them. He carried a towel and a white linen shirt. “I have no female garments, Firebrand, but you don’t seem to mind male attire.”

  She slid down as low as she could in the tub, proving that she was both intimidated and inhibited. She clutched the sponge to her breasts like a protective shield.

  “Douglas, surely by now you know I won’t harm you?”

  “Are you telling me I can trust you?”

  “Good God, I wouldn’t go that far!”

  “You arrogant devil. Turn your eyes away, while I finish bathing.”

  “Not a chance.” His gaze licked over her, missing no detail. “You are extremely lovely to look at. But for me, that isn’t your main attraction.”

  His words so intrigued her, she forgot to clutch the sponge.

  “It is your pride and confidence. It makes you incandescent. I’ve never seen a woman who seemed more alive, Firebrand.” He reached down and took the sponge, then he moved behind her, lifted her hair, and soaped her back. “Your bravado is irresistible, and your innocence draws me like a siren’s song.”

  “The water cools.”

  “My blood heats.”

  “Step away, or I’ll rake my nails down your face!”

  He chuckled. “Feisty little Scot.” He held out the towel.

  Her eyes widened. “You are baiting me.”

  He grinned. “And you are rising to the bait.”

  She did rise. Like Venus from the sea. She deliberately drenched him with the water. She grabbed the towel, and Greystoke grabbed her. She was panting with anger and indignation, and she struggled in his powerful arms like a wildcat. She soon realized that fighting him was useless. He was far too strong. She stilled, and to her amazement, he set her feet to the carpet.

  “I think we’ve succeeded in banishing your chill and warming your blood. Dry yourself and put on my shirt. I hope you enjoyed the tussle as much as I did.” He removed his soaking wet shirt, and reached for her towel.

  Douglas stepped back quickly before he could snatch the towel and render her naked.

  “How dare you?” she demanded. “‘Tis said the Scots are uncivilized, but I warrant they have nothing on Englishmen. I expected a chivalrous nobleman, not a savage barbarian!”

  “Thankless little bitch. I’ve rescued you, fed you, warmed you, and bathed you.” Anger darkened his eyes as he towered above her.

  She tossed her head, and her fiery tresses tumbled about her naked shoulders. “And for that you expect me to lick your boots! Not in your lifetime, Englishman!”

  Greystoke grabbed her and took possession of her mouth with his. His arms held her captive against his bare muscular chest. Heat leaped between them, as he kissed her deeply. The firm pressure of his lips gentled as she stopped struggling, and she gave herself up to his mastery.

  A delicious feeling of pleasure swept Douglas from her mouth to her mons. It was all new and exciting. She had challenged his manhood, and he had risen to the occasion. She could feel his hard cock against her soft flesh, and felt exhilaration at the power she had over him. He was the captor and she the captive, but suddenly she wanted to turn the tables on him. She opened her lips, and felt a surge of sensuality when his tongue thrust into the intimate, wet, dark cave of her mouth.

  She let go of the towel, went up on her toes, slid her arms about his neck, and pressed her full breasts against his powerful chest. His overt masculinity made her feel deliciously feminine. She felt his mouth release hers, and his lips brushed a gentle kiss on her eyelids.

  She let out a shuddering breath. “It seems opposites have a fatal attraction.”

  “Nay,” he murmured against her temple. “This is like calling to like.”

  Douglas immediately acknowledged the truth of his words.

  Greystoke stripped off his leather breeches and flung them after his wet shirt. He settled her arms about his neck once more, then his hands cupped her buttocks and he lifted her onto his cock. He bent his head to claim her mouth, and she raised her lips to meet his, eager for the ravishing. His shaft lay in the valley between her legs. With their bodies entwined he carried her across the chamber and deposited her on the wide bed.

  He stared down at her, drinking in her glorious, wild beauty. “I’ve imagined these fiery curls between your legs since I first saw you atop the stone wall.”

  Douglas boldly reached out to touch the curls that covered his groin. “Black and red, a dangerous combination.”

  “Danger excites you.” His voice was deep and dark, like black velvet.

  “You excite me,” she purred.

  “Only because I’m dangerous, Firebrand.”

  She licked her lips in sensual invitation. “If you play with fire, you’ll burn your fingers.” She arched her mons and felt a shudder of desire when he threaded his fingers into her red curls.

  Greystoke expected her to bargain with him, offering her body in exchange for her brothers’ release.

  Douglas had too much pride to ask. She would give freely and hoped he’d do the same.

  He came down to kneel beside her on the bed, and spread her vivid hair across the pillow. His instincts told him that this was her first time, in spite of her generous response to him. Greystoke knew that in order to give her pleasure rather than pain, he must arouse her fully, lure her to cast aside her inhibitions, and revel in her own sexuality.

  He picked up her foot and dropped a kiss on each toe, then he slid his tongue along the high arch of her instep. His calloused hands stroked up the creamy skin of her leg, then he bent his head to kiss and lick the delicate flesh of her thigh. When his mouth arrived at the tendrils on her mons, he pursed his lips and blew on the curls, making them dance about in playful abandon. Then he picked up her other foot and repeated the foreplay.

  “You make me feel beautiful and desirable,” she said breathlessly.

  “Douglas Elliot, you are so luscious, I could devour you.” He gently bit her toes.

  It was a new experience for her to be treated as if she were special. She had a healthy sense of self-worth, but in her family’s pecking order, she came after her brothers. Greystoke looked at her and touched her as if she were precious, and it felt blissful.

  He stroked her belly and caressed her breasts, first kissing, then tonguing her nipples. He felt himself harden and lengthen, and when he saw she was avidly watching his body’s reaction, his cock bucked wildly. He straddled her thighs, and reached hi
s fingers down to caress and stimulate her woman’s center. He slipped a finger into her hot sheath, playing until she became slick, then he brought her to climax and watched her eyes widen in surprise. He cupped her mons and she cried out at the exquisite sensations he aroused.

  Douglas thought fleetingly of Alex Hume who had pursued her at the Queen’s Court, and it made her shudder. When she compared the young fop to Lance Greystoke, she was suddenly thanking the Fates who had brought her to the English nobleman’s bed. Here was a man worthy of her virginity. She banished her apprehension, and her lips curved in an inviting smile.

  Lance came over her and took possession of her luscious mouth. He gave her a hundred kisses, arousing her passion, then he whispered how much he desired her, and what he was going to do to her. He positioned his cock. “Open to me, Douglas,” he urged. She arched against him and he slid slowly into her tight sheath. She could not take the whole length of him, but he was overjoyed with her generous response to him. As he thrust in and out, she writhed and cried out with pleasure. He did not prolong it, for fear of hurting her. He spent quickly, then gathered her in his arms, and buried his face in her glorious hair.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Little Firebrand.”

  Douglas was lying in such a delicious, warm cocoon, she didn’t want to awaken. She opened her eyes and saw that she was lying in Greystoke’s arms. She stretched languidly, and her bed partner sat up. “It’s dawn. I hate to leave you sweetheart, but I have to return to Carlisle Castle. I don’t want anyone to know I left last night.” He dropped a kiss on her vivid curls and threw back the covers.

  She gave him a tremulous smile and drew the covers up to her chin.

  “You can spend the day in my library, reading to your heart’s content. When I return tonight, I’ll take you home to Castle Elliot.” He tenderly brushed back the tendrils from her forehead. “You must know I’m reluctant to part with you, but Beaumont Hall is too close to Carlisle Castle for your safety.”

  Douglas watched him dress, then he kissed her goodbye, and departed.

  The minute Greystoke left, a picture of Gavin and Rob rose up in her mind. “Poor Robbie, I hope they don’t hurt you.” She felt bereft that Greystoke hadn’t offered to release her brothers. She thought it was the least he could have done in return for the loving they’d shared. Gavin is a man, but Rob is just a boy. Douglas was racked with worry.

  She flung off the covers, and used last night’s bathwater to wash herself. Then she put on the linen shirt Lance had offered her, and drew on her leather breeches and boots. She made her plans swiftly, picked up her leather doublet and went downstairs.

  The servant she had seen the night before bade her good morning. “Lord Greystoke asked me to prepare breakfast for you, my lady. Would you like me to serve it in the library?”

  Douglas gave him a disarming smile “That would be very kind of you.”

  When she entered the library, she gazed at all the books, but the large polished desk drew her like a magnet. She ran her fingers over the intricate vine leaves that decorated the mirrored pendant, and saw her reflection. Her hair was a dishevelled mass of red curls, and she immediately tried to smooth it, then plaited it. Her hairpins lay scattered somewhere in his bedchamber, and she knew she wouldn’t go back up to retrieve them.

  She glanced guiltily at the window she had smashed and saw it had already been repaired with a new pane of glass. She also noticed a map of the Borders lying on the desk, and she studied it intently, tracing her finger along the route she intended to take, and committing it to memory.

  When the servant entered the library with a breakfast tray, she crossed the room and took it from him. “It smells good. Thank you so much.” She was glad he had included a mug of ale and wondered if Greystoke had ordered it for her.

  “Is there anything else I can get you, my lady.”

  “No, this is perfect. Thank you.”

  When he left, she took it to the desk, sat down in a chair, and devoured the food as quickly as she could. She drank the ale and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she picked up the priceless mirrored pendant, fastened it securely to her linen shirt, lifted its silver chain over her head, then donned her leather doublet.

  Douglas went to the library window, unlocked it, raised the sash, and climbed out. She silently lowered the window, and headed toward the stables. Last night she had seen that Greystoke’s prize thoroughbreds were safely in their stalls, and she knew they would still be there. But with any luck some of his less valuable horses would be out in the pasture behind the stables.

  As unobtrusively as possible, she made her way to the field, and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw three or four horses cropping the spring grass. There was a small mare close to a barred gate in the stone wall. As she moved around the wall it blocked anyone from seeing her. The difficult part would be opening the gate and getting the animal through it.

  It had a bridle, but no bit or saddle of course, and she was glad she knew how to ride bareback. She moved quickly, opening the gate halfway, and leading the horse through it. She grabbed its mane and mounted with all the speed she could muster, and trotted away.

  When she was a short distance from the Beaumont stables, she urged the mare into a gallop, and did not look back. If anyone had seen her, she was determined that they would never catch her.

  Instead of riding north to the Scottish Border, Douglas headed west. Her cousin Will had said her brother Jock was accompanying King James to Berwick, and she knew she must get word to Jock that Gavin and Rob were prisoners in Carlisle Castle. “They’ve likely left Berwick by now,” she told the mare. “Where will their next stop be?”

  In her mind Douglas went over the castles in the English Borders of Northumberland.

  “Of course! The Earl of Northumberland will want to ingratiate himself with his new king and will offer hospitality at his castle of Alnwick.” Hellfire, that must be more than fifty miles away.

  Douglas rode on determinedly until the pale spring sun was directly overhead and she decided it must be close to the hour of noon. When she came to the next stream, she dismounted and allowed her mare to drink. She quenched her own thirst, and splashed her face with the cool water. She had no idea how far she had come, nor how far she still had to travel, so she remounted and pressed on with dogged determination.

  After she had ridden an hour or so through the rolling hills and dales she heard the distinctive sound of horses, and wagons. This told her there must be a road nearby. Then she heard voices and laughter. She drew rein and waited for the travelers. Her hand went to her hair. I must look a fright, wearing breeches and riding bareback. As soon as the traveling party came into view she waved and gave them a friendly smile.

  There were two men and two women who were mounted; the others who were obviously their servants rode in a baggage wagon. They all gave her curious stares, then one of the men said, “You must be going to Hexham.”

  “Hexham?” she echoed.

  The lady who was his wife explained, “Langley Castle. We are going to welcome our new King. We are at the head of the cavalcade. There must be scores behind us.”

  Douglas remembered that Langley was another castle owned by the Earl of Northumberland. “Yes, that’s where I’m going. Do you mind if I ride with you?”

  In less than an hour, the four towers of Langley Castle came into view. When they rode into the bailey it was packed with carts and wagons. Douglas lost no time dismounting and leading her mare to the stables. Obviously there were already people here, and crowds more were on their way.

  She threw a stableman a ravishing smile. “I know you are expecting King James. My brother is one of his attendants. May I put my mare in the stable?”

  He grinned at her. “All these stalls are reserved for the royal party, but there’s plenty of room in the pasture.”

  Her smile widened. “You are a gentleman, sir. Could I have a few oats? She’s had a hard ride today.”

  �
��Leave her with me. I’ll feed her and put her out back.”

  Douglas tried to slip into the Great Hall of Langley Castle without being noticed, but the first servant she encountered bowed to her. “My lady.”

  When it happened a second time, she thought they were mistaking her for someone, and wondered if she should admit she needed help. Then she remembered that the Percy family had red hair. The servants must think I’m related to the Earl of Northumberland. Perhaps I can use the knowledge to my advantage. This calls for a magnificent lie. Perhaps the English will swallow lies a hell of a lot faster than the truth.

  Douglas climbed one of the square towers and found a serving woman who was making beds with fresh linen. “Excuse me, but I need your help. I just rode in from Alnwick Castle and my baggage has gone amiss. Uncle Percy will be furious if he finds me wearing breeches when King James arrives.”

  The woman looked her up and down. “I can understand that, mistress.”

  “I’m sure my aunt keeps some of her clothes here. Perhaps I can borrow something?”

  “Bless your heart, my dear, Lady Dorothy visited Langley only twice. Her ladyship prefers London to the wilds of Northumberland. It’s been more than a year since she was here last. The castle steward has allocated her chamber for Queen Anne’s use when she arrives.”

  “Oh, the queen isn’t traveling with King James. He is so eager for the Crown of England that he is riding with all speed. I heard that Queen Anne, her children, and her ladies won’t be leaving Edinburgh for at least a month.”

  “You must have seen him at Alnwick. Whatever is King James like?”

  “Well, he’s no fashion plate.” Douglas pictured the king in his shabby robes when she’d last been at Court. “His hair and beard are reddish like the Percy’s, but his Scottish brogue is so thick, it is difficult for the English to understand him.”