Virginia Henley

by The Raven

  Ravenspur wore black velvet and stood out as a raven among peacocks. The men of the Court were almost gaudy in the latest styles, with particolored hose, exaggerated shoulders, and beribboned codpieces.

  Roseanna knew she looked beautiful. Her gown had cost a small fortune, and it gave her an air of supreme confidence. It was of the palest shell pink silk with puffed sleeves slashed to show deep rose pink underneath. The bodice and skirt were embroidered with tiny glass beads in a delicate pattern of mauve butterflies on rose pink flowers. Her beautiful round breasts were all but bared. Her magnificent hair fell down her back to the hem of her gown and was held back from each temple by jeweled butterflies.

  The women of the Court had spent a collective fortune for their clothes and jewels. Roseanna, sharing a goblet of wine with Ravenspur, told him, “If we are to be long at Court, I will need a complete new wardrobe.”

  His dark eyes clearly showed how lovely he found her, and how desirable. “You may have anything you want, but we will not be long at Court. We’ll stay only for the christening of the heir. Then I want a week or so at home, at Ravenspur, before …” He hesitated.

  “Before what?” she asked.

  “The state of the realm is anything but secure. Richard goes north to defend it against Scotland; Hastings goes to secure the Midlands; and I’m being sent to Wales again. It’s so wild, but Edward places great trust in me, thinking I can control it.”

  Fear touched her with its sharp finger when she thought of the babe she would bear him in about seven months. He smiled into her eyes and took her hand in his. “That’s why I want you at Ravenspur, where it’s safe. If you find yourself too lonely, you are close enough to Castlemaine to spend time with your mother.”

  She gave him a taunting, sideways glance. “You don’t want me at Court because the game of seduction is so rampant.”

  “Tonight, every man’s eyes have lingered on you with speculation. If I were not here, they would move in like wolves devouring a doe.”

  “You exaggerate,” she said lightly.

  “Nay, you are beautiful enough to tempt a saint, let alone a sinner—and at Westminster I’m afraid all are sinners. Be careful whom you dance with, lest they take you to an alcove and have your breasts from your gown. It wouldn’t be difficult to do. Shall I show you?” he teased. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and he laughed. “Thank God you still blush; a month at Court, and you would never blush again.” He watched indulgently as she was partnered by Hastings, Herbert, and Stafford, and then twice by the King’s young brother Richard, who now held the highest office in the land. But when Thomas Grey, the Queen’s eldest son, slipped a possessive arm around Roseanna to partner her in a dance, Roger frowned his displeasure. Before the dance was over, he was on his feet and heading for his wife. The reputation of the Queen’s young sons stank to high heaven. They were lechers of the first order, and no attractive woman was remotely safe with them. Roger took her from Thomas Grey before the last notes of the dance sounded. “Madame, you have eluded me long enough.”

  Thomas Grey sneered, “Keep your knife sharp.” It was a common enough saying from one noble to another, but Grey meant it as a reminder of the gossip that had touched Ravenspur when his wife was found murdered.

  Roseanna gasped. “That was cruel. Are you going to allow the insult to pass?”

  “The Queen’s sons can do no wrong. Besides, I don’t care what the young swine says to me, just as long as he keeps his hands from you.” The music struck up again, and they danced a few measures. He gazed down at her, then let his dark eyes sweep over her. Christ’s bones, she was beautiful!

  Her breasts began to swell with longing as he towered over her, making her feel very small and feminine.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said huskily.

  “I know,” she said breathlessly, wanting it every bit as much as he did.

  The thought of her in his bed sent shivers down his spine. He spied a balcony and guided her out onto it. His big hands caught and held her face, and he kissed her almost brutally, seeking her silken tongue and caressing it with his. Her reaction was instantaneous—hot and passionate and filled with lusty, unconcealed desire. Dear God, how she responded to his kisses, and he knew it! No words were needed. He took her hand and led her back through the ballroom, and they slipped upstairs, even though protocol demanded they stay until the King and Queen retired.

  Inside their chamber she quickly removed the expensive gown before his impatient fingers could damage the delicate material. In the frantic race to disrobe, Roger was naked before she; he finished undressing her by pushing her back onto the bed and peeling off her stockings. His hot lips left a trail from her ankle all the way up to her soft thigh; she moaned as his lips approached the throbbing center of her womanhood. His desire was so great, he had to crush down the need to mount her instantly; that would be a waste. She was not to be used quickly but savored and cherished. Besides, he wanted more from her than a sexual response. This time he wanted a commitment—and he’d get it, he decided ruthlessly.

  She threaded her fingers through his crisp dark hair and tried to pull his mouth up to hers, but he wouldn’t leave the flower between her legs until the bud burst into full bloom. His tongue found the bud, and he pleasured her furiously with his mouth until she came.

  “Please, Ravenspur,” she begged him, not nearly satisfied with what he was doing to her. She closed her eyes and thrashed her head against the pillows crying, “Please, please.”

  “Look at me, Roseanna,” he demanded. “I know what you want, but I’ll not take you like a whore. Admit that you have fallen in love with me!”

  “No!” she cried, denying him.

  He rubbed his big organ between her legs. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

  Passion devoured her. His hard, swollen, shaft throbbed against her, and she sobbed her desire for him.

  “No,” he denied her when she reached out with teasing fingers to tempt him. “If you do not love me, yet give me your body, you are no better than a common whore. You lock your heart away from me while greedily satisfying the lusts of your body! Do you want me to use you like a whore?” He grabbed her breast roughly and jammed his knee between her thighs.

  “No, no, Ravenspur,” she sobbed.

  “My name is Roger,” he said softly.

  “Ravenspur!” she repeated stubbornly.

  “Damn you, you heartless bitch! I only want you to love me a little.” His voice cracked with emotion, and suddenly she broke down. Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her face. “Oh, Roger, I do love you! I love you more than I ever knew it was possible to love a man. I love you beyond my wildest dreams!”

  A surge of joy such as he had never felt before swelled his heart. He parted her thighs and plunged into the sweet, hot sheath that drew him deeper and deeper inside her with every thrust. In a time that is never, ever long enough for lovers, they reached their peak, and she felt the contractions of an orgasm so great, she thought she would faint. Over and over again her body shuddered with the force of her climax; it was heightened and prolonged by Roger’s climax as he joined in her ecstasy.

  He cradled her against his heart. “Oh, my sweet, sweet Roseanna, how I love you.” As she lay against him, utterly safe, utterly protected, all was right with her world. In that moment it felt so right that she thought that this was what she had been born for, to love this man and bear his children. He hugged her close and whispered, “I nearly went mad when I found you had released Fitzhugh and when I found both your horses missing. I assumed you’d gone off with him.”

  “Forgive me, Roger. I should never have released him, for your suspicions were correct. He was somehow involved in the plot to imprison the King. But I truly believed you would take his life, not for any treasonous plot but because you thought I loved him.”

  He nuzzled the soft spot on her neck beneath her ear. “I was jealous of the young lout, but I was convinced you were in love with his chivalrous idea
lism. The dashing young knight, pure in purpose, ardent in romance, steadfast in allegiance.”

  “I must have seemed very young and foolish to you.”

  He chuckled. “I was so madly in love for the first time in my life, I must have seemed old and foolish to you.”

  “Let’s go home soon,” she breathed.

  “Tomorrow, if I can manage our escape. Try to sleep, my love.”

  “I cannot sleep with the chamber so brightly lit.” As she slipped from the bed to blow out all the candles, he watched her in awe. No other woman in the world could possibly present the beautiful picture Roseanna’s nude body made, cloaked in her dark hair that fell to the carpet.

  The pleasure of awakening in each other’s arms was short lived.

  “Shall I kiss you awake?” Roger asked, smiling deeply into her eyes.

  She confessed, “When you found me in the sanctuary, I feared you might beat me.”

  He teased, “Would I beat a nun?”

  “A very pregnant nun,” she added.

  His face changed instantly. “No! Tell me you are joking, Roseanna.”

  She couldn’t believe the change in him. It was obvious that he was displeased by the news; she was deeply wounded. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she jumped from the bed and wrapped her nakedness in the fur cover.

  “Damn you, Ravenspur! I let down all my defenses, and when I am totally vulnerable, you deliberately hurt me.”

  “Roseanna—” he began.

  “Don’t speak to me! Don’t dare speak to me!” she choked.

  He knew he had made a dreadful blunder and wondered what he could say to make amends. Although he searched frantically for words, nothing occurred to him that would wipe away the suggestion that he did not want a child.

  Her mind whirled around, looking for a reason that would explain his displeasure. Then she hit on it. By God’s bones, perhaps he thought it was Sir Bryan’s child that she carried! “How can you think me faithless?” she demanded.

  He stiffened. “I did not until you suggested it, madame!”

  Eyes blazing, he walked out into the small dressing room.

  * * *

  Many ceremonies were planned at Westminster for the week to come, but Roger closeted himself with Edward and begged to be excused from the christening. The King waved his hand. “It’s not important to me; it’s just a formality. But Elizabeth won’t forgive.”

  “I think it best to remove Roseanna while she is in Elizabeth’s good graces. If Elizabeth ever found out she was your lovechild, all hell might break loose.”

  Ned sighed. “At the moment other things occupy her mind. She is bent on revenge and urges me to it every waking moment. I’d like your advice, Roger. Northumberland, Warwick’s brother, stayed loyal to me through all this. I think I should honor that loyalty. Divide and conquer makes good sense in my book, although Elizabeth is in a rage that I should honor Warwick’s brother.”

  “Honor his son instead. Give him a dukedom. It will bind Northumberland and his son yet will not offend Elizabeth so greatly.”

  The King nodded. “I am going to give Elizabeth’s brother Anthony his father’s title of Lord Rivers.”

  Roger asked bluntly, “Will you arrest George?”

  Edward shook his head regretfully. “Behind bars someone would find a way to dispose of him. I’ll not be party to it. Though I doubt my brother’s loyalty to me, I shall remain loyal to him.”

  Baron Ravenspur and his wife headed the cavalcade of their knights and men-at-arms traveling from Westminster to Ravenspur, which was located halfway up the east coast of Lincolnshire on that beautifully sheltered bay known as The Wash. The men knew they were going home only for a couple of weeks before riding off to wild Wales on the opposite coast. Although their lord and lady rode abreast, she held herself aloof and only spoke to Ravenspur when it was necessary. They broke their hundred-mile journey at Cambridge, where Ravenspur spent the night with his men.

  Next day, all about them lay signs that spring would be early this year. The stark silhouettes of the winter trees were softened by new buds, and birds were busily building their nests.

  When they reached Ravenspur land, Roseanna was pleasantly surprised by its beauty. She was amazed when she saw Ravenspur Castle. She turned to her husband, momentarily setting aside her hostility. “Why, ’tis not a castle at all, really. ’Tis more a palace!”

  Ravenspur Castle was built in the shape of the letter H, with magnificent outdoor terraces surrounded by what would be breathtaking gardens once everything began to bloom. It was a lovely, soft, rose-colored brick edifice, half covered by ivy. It sat in its own parkland where deer roamed about beneath the trees.

  Tristan rode out to meet them with his little daughter before him in the saddle. Roseanna’s face softened with love as she saw the three-year-old child. “Oh, Tris, this must be Becky,” she said happily.

  Tristan shrugged. “Her mother’s under the weather again. I’m glad you’re here, Roseanna. You’re just what Rebecca needs.”

  “I’ll come and see her tomorrow. But couldn’t I take Becky? Just for tonight?”

  Tristan looked questioningly at Roger, who nodded slightly.

  “You’re welcome to her if you don’t think she’ll be too much trouble.” Tristan grinned.

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching up her arms for the child. “I’ll bring her home safely.” She trotted her horse into the stables, holding the child with great care. The first to come forward to help her was old Dobbin. Roseanna gave a little cry of delight, for it was a sign that all their people were at Ravenspur. “Look after Mecca for me, Dobbin. He’s worth his weight in gold.”

  The old man’s eyes twinkled. “There’s summat in that stall over there will take yer fancy.”

  She took Becky by the hand, and they went to investigate. A soft-eyed spaniel had a litter of puppies about six weeks old. The child was delighted at their antics. “May I have one?” she implored.

  “I think they’re old enough to be weaned. Pick one out, and we’ll take it to the house with us.”

  At the front door she was greeted by Alice and Kate Kendall. At the sight of their dear, familiar faces, she realized how much she had missed them. The sight of Kate’s capable face also eased some of her fears of childbirth. She wouldn’t have to face the ordeal alone; Kate would be there. Roseanna said, “I have so much to tell you, I don’t know where to begin. First you can show me all of Ravenspur. I’d no idea it was so lovely.”

  Kate looked doubtfully at Becky and the pup. “You’ll not be taking that wee imp of Satan to be peeing in every room!”

  “I don’t pee my pants!” said Becky indignantly.

  “No, sweetheart, Kate meant the pup. Alice, take Becky and the puppy and find them something good to eat. Kate, there are four beautiful floors here to stretch my legs over. Come on.”

  “When you’re my age, a house with four stories is more of a curse than a blessing,” grumbled Kate.

  The first floor east housed kitchens and laundry rooms and in the west was the men’s barracks. In between was a vast complex of armor, gun, and map rooms. The second floor east comprised living quarters for the married knights and their wives, while the vast number of servants who ran Ravenspur were housed on the second floor west. The third floor held a ballroom, large and small dining rooms, magnificently appointed receiving rooms, a dozen guest bedrooms, and a nursery. Lord Ravenspur occupied the west wing of the top floor. He had a comfortable living room, library, bathroom, dressing room, and large bedchamber. The four-poster in its center was massive, but it was raised so high up from the floor that three small steps were mounted on its right side to assist anyone under six feet tall in climbing up onto it.

  The wall at the foot of the bed boasted a white marble fireplace with a black bearskin rug in front of it. The color scheme of black, red, and white was repeated in the oriental lacquered cabinets and wardrobe against the opposite wall. The chamber was filled with costly objets d’art tha
t his ships had brought from exotic lands. A magnificent screen stood in one corner inlaid with mother-of-pearl and lapis lazuli, and behind it sat a bright red enameled hip bath. A discreet cough behind her told Roseanna that Mr. Burke was also here.

  “Welcome to your home, Lady Roseanna. May you know happiness here.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Burke.”

  “And just to be on the safe side, I chose a room for you in the east wing”—he coughed discreetly again—“for when you wish to be alone.”

  Kate Kendall sniffed loudly. Roseanna, ignoring her disapproval, winked broadly at Mr. Burke and said, “Becky and I will sleep there tonight. You may show me the room, Mr. Burke.”

  It was lovely, indeed. It was done in white, pink, and burgundy; she silently marveled at Ravenspur’s taste. Was there no end to the surprises he always managed to give her?

  She sent a cool note to her husband that stated that she realized he would be occupied on his first night home and that she would take a tray in her chamber and retire early.

  Roger was annoyed when he read it. He hated it when she threw up barriers between them. He’d rather by far have a knock-down, drag-out fight in which they hurled vile insults at each other, got things off their chests, and cleared the air. He was torn both ways and hesitated. He knew he’d made a tactical error in letting her sleep alone when they were first married, and he didn’t want a repeat performance. Yet she’d had a hard two days’ journey on horseback, and in her condition he wanted her to have a good rest.

  His heart always won where Roseanna was concerned. He’d leave her in peace tonight, but tomorrow he’d lay down the law and move her into his bed, where she belonged. Damn, thinking of her always produced an immediate physical response, and though he could control it to a degree, he was left with a taut ache in his loins for hours.

  If he had seen the wild romping Roseanna was doing with Becky when he left her to rest, he would have been more than annoyed. They were playing a game of tag, and the puppy was dashing around like a mad furry ball. When they were exhausted, she took the greatest pleasure in bathing Becky and putting her in the big bed. Kate brought Roseanna a tray that groaned beneath the number of dishes upon it. She shared her meal with the child, both of them eating with their fingers and giggling with every mouthful. At last Roseanna was ready to retire, so Alice brushed all the tangles from her hair and helped her to bed. Then they sat for hours talking about the Queen and the Court and the things Roseanna had seen in London.