"How would you like the job of persuading him?"
"Me? I shall avoid him at all costs. I would rather take the men-at-arms to the Tower, while you go to Westminster!"
"We will remain together at Windsor tonight. Tomorrow I shall see Richard, alone if you haven't the stomach for it. Rod can go to Durham
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House and learn de Montfort's thoughts on why the justiciar has been summoned hotfoot to London."
As Windsor Castle came into view, Rosamond caught her breath at how splendid it looked. The imposing Round Tower, built by King Henry II from beautiful Bedfordshire stone, was bathed in a golden glow by the setting sun. The cavalcade passed through the outer walls by way of the Curfew Tower and entered the Lower Ward. When grooms and servants rushed out to attend the travelers, they made obeisance to the prince, but it was de Leyburn, the royal steward, who gave them their orders.
Rosamond dismounted unaided and helped Nan from her saddle, then she lifted Chirk from her traveling basket and set the dog down on the cobblestones to pee. When both de Leyburn and Griffin came to attend her, she graciously demurred. "You have so many official duties; we will manage."
"I have no higher priority than your welfare. Nan, please direct Griffin to your baggage." Rod bowed to Rosamond, scooped up Chirk, and held out his arm. "Allow me to escort you to our apartments. Once you are safely in the hands of the servants, you will have ample time to bathe and rest while I attend to my official duties."
The new Henry III Tower, built with local heath stone, was the last word in luxury. Their chambers were bright, spacious, and richly furnished. The apartment consisted of two large rooms and two smaller ones, one of which was a dressing room with a carved wooden bathing tub. The bedchamber held a massive bed with green velvet curtains and mounting-steps because of its height. Rosamond averted her eyes from the bed and moved to the tall round-topped window which overlooked a walled garden.
Sir Rodger set Chirk down so that she could explore her new home, then followed Rosamond to the window. "We have a fine view of the Thames Valley and the Chiltern Hills beyond. When spring arrives, the colors of the entire landscape change. The royal apartments take up the entire two top stories of this new tower. The king and queen occupy the top floor when they are in residence. Directly above us are Lord Edward's apartments, and adjoining are those especially designed for Princess Eleanora."
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Rosamond turned to look up at him. He had said that he hoped they could start afresh at Windsor, and suddenly she wanted that too. She swayed toward him, but Rodger stepped back politely and she realized that an invisible barrier stood between them.
"If there is anything you need, Rosamond, you must ask." She stared after him as he departed. His words held a wealth of double meaning. She pulled off one of her riding boots and hurled it at the door he had just closed. "Ask? Ask? You devil, de Leyburn! You'll do the bloody asking!"
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Edward Plantagenet had never failed to rise to a challenge in his life. After he turned his destrier over to his squire, he strode to the top of the Lower Ward, entered the new tower, and took the stairs to his apartments three at a time. Shrewdly, he anticipated a confrontation with his mother, and relished it. He dispatched the bowing servants for hot water, deciding to rid himself of travel stains before seeking audience with the queen. Edward poured himself a cup of ale to quench his thirst and wash the road dust from his throat. He drained it, and as he poured another he noticed that the door leading to the adjoining room stood ajar. A rustle of garments drew him to the doorway.
Edward stopped dead on the threshold and stared. Before him stood a female so lovely, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her rose pink gown showed her dusky beauty to perfection. Her dark brown hair fell in a profusion of natural curls that reached to her hips, while tiny tendrils framed her oval face. Her almond-shaped eyes were liquid brown, fringed by long, thick lashes. A soft flush touched her youthful rounded cheek as her red lips parted in a shy smile that revealed teeth as pretty as pearls. Her full breasts curved deliciously above the smallest waist he had ever seen.
Edward caught his breath at the sight of this girl on the brink of womanhood who was so lovely, he couldn't believe his great good fortune. Was this dazzling vision his wife? All his senses were so involved, he knew he could not be dreaming. "Eleanora?"
Though her look was shy, her eyes shone with joy as she looked at him with adoration. "Eduward, I must use the English version of my name ... Eleanor."
He laughed with delight at the way she pronounced his name.
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"Nay, Eleanora is beautiful, or Nora is sweet and pretty too, like its owner." He wrinkled his nose. "Eleanor is my mother's name."
She laughed shyly, and it was like music to his ears. He closed the distance between them, drawn to her like steel to a lodestone. His gaze drank in her sweetness, and as he raised his hand toward her, Eleanora did the same, and their fingertips touched. A current like lightning sparked between them, and he watched her breasts rise and fall with the excitement their touch begot. He took possession of her fingers and lifted them to his lips. "Eleanora, my sweet."
"Eduward," she said breathlessly, "I have waited six long years to come to you."
His lips brushed her wrist, and her rapid pulse told him how he affected her. "The waiting is over," he promised warmly.
"Not by a long chalk!" the queen interjected as she sailed into the chamber like a ship in full sail. "Eleanor, you will go upstairs immediately. What I have to say to my perfidious son is not for delicate ears."
Edward's fingers tightened their hold on the beautiful prize. "I am delighted to see you too, Mother," he said caustically, "but at the moment I wish to be alone with my wife."
"When the marriage has been consummated, she will be your wife, and not before. Until then, Eleanor is under my wardship, my authority."
Edward saw his bride's eyes flood with unshed tears. Touched with compassion for her plight, he loosed his grip and watched her flee. "Is this how you exercise your wardship? Bullying the maiden because she is sweet and gentle?" Suddenly he realized his mother's true motives. "You used her as bait, making sure I would find her here unattended, then snatching her away to bring me to heel."
"You need bringing to heel! Plotting with that traitor de Montfort will have dire consequences for you. Your father's brother has come to Westminster to deal with you."
"The last I heard, Richard of Cornwall was not the King of England, nor are you, madam. If the king wishes to protest my political views, let him come and do so. I refuse to be ruled by a woman, be she mother or queen!"
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Fourteen
Rosamond directed Griffin where to set the last of her trunks. "How long will my husband be about his official duties?"
"At least four hours, my lady; you must sup without him."
"Nay," Rosamond demurred, as a plan began to form in her head, "I shall wait and dine here with Sir Rodger, if you will be good enough to bring us a late supper, Griffin."
Rosamond decided to take Chirk for a run in the walled garden before dusk descended. There would be ample time to bathe later. Wrapped in her fur-lined cloak and carrying her Welsh terrier, she made her way down the stairs of the splendid new tower and wound her way along a path until she came to the garden. Inside the high walls, beneath the trees, there was hardly any light at all in the shadowed recesses. She set Chirk down and watched her scamper off, then decided she'd better follow.
"Malo perro! Bad dog!" a female voice scolded, then Rosamond saw a white ball of fur rush toward her through the shadows.
"Oh, I didn't see you in your dark cloak," Rosamond said. "I too have brought my dog to the garden." She scooped up the Maltese terrier and handed him to the young woman.
"Gracias, he is a bad dog running off like that. I find my new country so cold, but he loves this place."
Rosamond knew that a few of the words the young woman had
spoken were Spanish, and she guessed her identity immediately. "You are Princess Eleanora, Lord Edward's bride! I am so honored to meet you. I am Rosamond de Leyburn, newly wed to your husband's friend and steward."
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Just then Chirk returned to her mistress and showed great interest in the Maltese terrier.
"Oh, I am so happy you have a little dog, Rosamond. I do not think the queen likes my Bebe. I hope Eduward likes dogs."
"He loves dogs! Your Highness, you are so cold, your teeth are chattering. You need a warmer cloak of fur. Here, take mine," she said, removing it and wrapping it about the shivering girl.
"Oh, I cannot, Rosamond!"
"Of course you can. You can give it back to me another time, when you get one of your own. Let's go back inside."
Lit torches illuminated the vaulted staircase, enabling the young women to see each other. Rosamond was delighted to find that the princess was beautiful. "You are still shivering," she observed.
"From excitement because at last I have seen Eduward!"
Love and adoration shone from Eleanora's big brown eyes, and suddenly Rosamond felt apprehension for her newfound friend. She wanted to warn her to guard her heart so that she would not risk being hurt, but she could not bring herself to spoil Eleanora's happiness. "Good night, no doubt tomorrow we shall meet formally."
Back in her own apartments, Rosamond told Nan that she would finish unpacking her own things and urged her to get some rest. Strangely, she felt energized as she hung her lovely garments in the dressing room wardrobe. She chose a white silk night rail, and in one of her trunks she found a rose-scented candle, and placed both beside the high bed. Then she called for water for her bath, and when the servants brought it, she asked them to bring hot water for de Leyburn when he retired for the night.
After her bath, she donned the white silk, covered it with a red velvet bedgown, and feeling satisfied that the scene was well set, built up the fire. She had decided to take matters into her own hands. It was time she became a woman, and Rosamond intended to set the time and the place, rather than allow her husband to control everything. Her only sexual knowledge came from de Leyburn, but she had learned her lessons well. He had seduced her by focusing his attention on her body and her pleasure, so tonight she would reverse their roles and do the same to him.
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When de Leyburn arrived, Griffin accompanied him. "I will order your bath, my lord," he said, removing Sir Rodger's hauberk.
Rosamond lit the rose-scented candle. "There is no need, Griffin, I shall see to my husband's needs tonight. Bring our food in about an hour." She gave the squire a conspiratorial smile. She felt Rodger's speculative gaze upon her, knowing the red velvet bedgown did wondrous things for her pale golden hair, but before he could speak, the hot water for his bath arrived. "You have trained the servants so well, my lord."
They half filled the carved tub in the dressing room with steaming water, and Rosamond thanked them profusely as they left. Then she turned to her husband and said huskily, "Won't you join me in the . . . undressing room?"
Bemused, he followed her, his curiosity and his desire piqued. He sat on the edge of the tub and drew in his breath as she came close and reached out to lift off the linen chainse he wore beneath the chain mail hauberk. When her hands came into contact with his bare flesh, his arousal began. When her playful fingertips traced the dark hair covering his chest, his arousal lengthened, then as she deliberately stroked her palms over the slabs of muscle, his arousal thickened and hardened.
Amazed, he watched her kneel before him to remove his boots. When her head bent forward and her blond hair pooled over his groin, brushing across the swollen bulge inside his black chausses, he almost came out of his skin. He removed his remaining clothing quickly and exhaled with relief, glad to be free of the tight material. His pulse quickened as he watched Rosamond remove her red velvet bedgown, revealing the white silk night rail.
"It won't matter if I get this wet," she explained innocently.
Rodger stepped into the water, skeptical that Rosamond actually intended to bathe him, yet hope would not be denied. His eyes never left her as he lowered himself to a sitting position and his anticipation heightened as she knelt beside him. She picked up a long, hard sponge and rolled it between her palms as she contemplated where to begin. He found her gestures sexually provocative, and when he suspected she was well aware of it, his mouth went dry.
"You are a very big man," she said, gazing down into the water.
Rodger heard himself groan.
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She soaped the sponge and, standing up, moved behind him, where he could no longer see her, but he could certainly feel her. She began to scrub his back with long, firm strokes, swirling, circular strokes, and short, swift strokes that scratched exactly where he itched. He closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pleasure, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen, while the sexual tension between his wife and him coiled tighter. It was Paradise; it was purgatory!
Rosamond came back into his view and again knelt beside the tub. She rinsed the sponge and allowed it to float, then she withdrew her hands from the water and wiped their wetness across the white silk. It immediately turned transparent, revealing the contours of her lush breasts tipped with thrusting pink nipples. Rodger caught his breath as she dipped her hand in the water to retrieve the sponge and just accidentally brushed the head of his phallus. He knew this was a game for her and he a willing playmate.
As she scrubbed his shoulders and chest, she had to reach across the wide expanse of his upper body, and in doing so her golden hair touched, tickled, teased, and tormented him. When her hands sought his armpits, it felt erotic, as if she were touching him in a forbidden place. She rinsed him thoroughly, then paused, holding the sponge in her hands tentatively. The silence stretched between them as Rodger willed her to proceed with washing the lower half of his body.
Rosamond licked her lips. "If there is anything you need, Rodger, you must ask."
He comprehended immediately. It was to be a game of wills, a dangerous game, and one he relished, but he felt reluctant to wash himself as he took the sponge from her and quickly finished his own ablutions. But when he stepped from the tub, she rejoined the game by taking up the towel and moving close. At first she rubbed him briskly, as he would have done if he had been drying himself, but then her hands, covered by the towel, began to linger in certain intimate places. When she dried his back, her fingers deliberately dipped into the cleft between his buttocks, eliciting a shudder he could not control. Then she moved before him and allowed her glance to roam over his glistening wet chest. She was tall enough that her head reached to his shoulder, which positioned her perfectly for what she did next. Before she touched him with the towel,
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her tongue darted out to lick the droplets of water that gathered and dripped from his nipples. He felt them harden immediately and his cock rose up between their bodies as if it too wanted to be licked. Molten fire ran through his veins as she slid down on her knees before him, but once more he experienced disappointment as all she did was dry his legs. When he glanced down, he saw that her eyes were examining the silvery scar that ran down his inner thigh. But she quickly raised her eyes until her glance caressed his full erection, then she licked her lips. "If there is anything you need, Rod, you must ask."
It was the first time she had called him Rod, and it played merry hell with his desire. More than anything in the world, he wanted her to fellate him, wanted to feel her beautiful lips kiss the pulsing head of his shaft, wanted her to take him into the hot, wet cave of her mouth, wanted to thrust until he spent, but because of his pride, he found it impossible to ask.
Rosamond remained on her knees for a long, drawn-out moment, then she stood up and, with a wicked laugh, hung the towel on his up-thrust cock and walked sensually toward their bedchamber. She tossed her honey-gold hair over her shoulder as she glanced back. "Come and warm yourself at the fire so you can r
emain naked." Her words were those of a practiced courtesan, and coming from a virgin, they had an unbelievably erotic effect on him.
He tossed aside the towel and followed her, mesmerized by the seductive spell she wove. She stood before the fire, the outline of her body visible through the finespun material of her night rail. His gaze licked over her like a candle flame, and the scent of roses made his nostrils flare. With her back to the fire, she began to draw up her night rail inch by inch, slowly exposing her limbs. Rod loved the lines of her long legs, and he wanted those legs encircling him, high about his back, while he plunged between them. He strode toward her and watched her raise her hand imperiously to stay him. "If there is anything you need, Rod, you must ask."
"What about your needs, Rosamond? Don't you need pleasuring?"
Her throaty laugh was accompanied by a toss of her glorious hair. "I can pleasure myself, if that's all you have in mind. Would you like to watch?" She inched up the white silk, then deliberately threaded her fingers through the curls on her mons.
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It was too much for Rod. He swept her into his arms, determined to master her with his kisses. Rosamond did not remain passive; she returned kiss for kiss, touch for touch, arousing them both beyond the point of return. Suddenly she broke away and moved toward the bed. She ran up the mounting-steps, drew off her silk night rail, then slid to her knees. She dipped her fingertips into a goblet of wine beside the bed and anointed her nipples with the blood-red liquid. In a flash, he was after her, pulling her roughly against him, so that her breasts were crushed against his chest and his rock-hard phallus scalded her soft belly. His demanding mouth took possession of hers, and their tongues began a mating duel of hot, sliding friction that created a wild desire to touch and taste each other everywhere.
Dark erotic sensations inflamed his passion until all he could think of was the sound of her cries when he thrust inside her and felt the hot, wet pull of her around his throbbing sex. He took her down to the bed and rose above her. "Rosamond"—he brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek— "I'm asking."
The Marriage Priza Page 18
