Page 22 of The Raven and the Rose
The water felt like heaven as it closed over her shivery, aching body. Roseanna unbraided her long hair and shook it out to hang over the side of the tub closest to the fire. She lay back, languorously allowing warmth to seep into her limbs. Her eyes closed, and she began to float in that delicious limbo before sleep descended. A sudden noise caused her eyes to fly open.
Ravenspur entered her room through an adjoining door with a steaming platter of food in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other.
“Mm, you must try a mouthful. It’s not half bad,” he said with aplomb.
She gasped. “I thought that heavy curtain concealed a window, not a door,” she said with dismay as he approached the tub and held the plate beneath her nose. He towered above her, clad only in a velvet robe.
I am naked, and so is he beneath the robe!she thought wildly. He was the only man she had ever encountered who made her afraid.
“You are a horrible man. Get out!” she cried.
He ignored her. Seating himself on the edge of the tub, he selected a succulent piece of veal and lifted it to her mouth. “Open wide,” he tempted.
His nearness had an instant effect on her. Her pulse raced and her heartbeat quickened with anger and, yes, fear of his intentions. When she clamped her lips tightly, he ordered, “Eat!” His command left no room for disobedience, so she took the proffered food and almost melted at the delicious taste of it. He put the plate and goblet on a coffer beside the tub within easy reach. “I’d like to bathe with you.”
She gasped. His words sent a scalding sensation curling inside her. Shocked, she read the wicked intention clearly visible in his dark, savage face.
“Never!” she said with cold finality.
“Selfish little wench. By not sharing with me, you deprive me of a bath.”
“Horse piss!” she said angrily. “All you need do is order one, and the servants will grovel at your slightest desire.”
His dark eyes flashed the reflection of the fire. “You are no lady to use such language. I think your arse needs a spanking.”
“And you, sir, are no gentleman to suggest such a thing!”
He looked upon her with admiration. She was only one step from exhaustion, yet still she stood her ground with him and parried his every thrust. He plunged his hand into the water. She cried out with alarm, then put her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound, mindful that if Sir Bryan heard her cry, he might come to her rescue, and there could be murder done this night.
Roger’s brown hand emerged from the water and held out a large sponge. Her breasts rose and fell with her labored breathing; her hands flew to them in an effort to conceal herself from his night-black eyes.
He laughed mockingly. “Don’t bother to hide your charms from me, Roseanna. I am to be your husband, and you forget, I’ve already had you in my bed.”
Feeling totally vulnerable, she knew her only weapon against him was her sharp tongue. “Then why are you staring at my breasts?” she demanded.
He leered wickedly. “I’m debating which one to wash first.” His hand swooped down, and the sponge encircled first one breast, then the other. Threads of fire shot from her nipples to down between her legs. He was a beast! She was afraid to cry for help. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and they both knew it. He tossed the sponge aside, picked up the large towel, and reached toward her. For a moment she thought he was handing her the towel so she might at last conceal her body from his gaze, but he deftly wrapped the towel around her and lifted her from the tub.
“Put me down!” she hissed furiously. Obeying her command, he laid her upon the bed and began to rub her body with the soft towel. Her limbs were weak as he awakened sensations in her that felt as delicious as sin. At last she realized that, in his mind at least, she was his bride-to-be and that he could do with her as he wished.
“Why are you compromising me like this? How can you take advantage of my predicament?” she pleaded as the last of her strength melted away.
“To teach you a lesson, my lady. If you had traveled with your parents, properly chaperoned, this predicament would never have occurred. Instead, you chose to run around the countryside like a wild thing. A young woman can get into all kinds of trouble when she allows herself to be alone with a man. What kind of trouble, you ask?” he teased. “Well, he could do this to you, for instance.” His hand cupped her breast, and he caressed its silky fullness. As she opened her mouth to protest, his head dipped down to take the kiss he lusted for. The strong physical power he had over her awakened her sleeping sensuality. As he plunged his tongue into her sweetness, she found herself actually wanting him to do forbidden things to her. As if reading her mind, he obliged.
“Then, of course, he would be free to do this to you.” He ran his long fingers down her abdomen and caressed her between her thighs, slowly tormenting her with exquisite, overpowering sensations. A moan escaped her lips, “Please, please.”
“Are you begging me to stop or to continue, Roseanna?” he asked. Looking at her beautiful body writhing on the bed, he began to caress her more forcefully.
Suddenly she knew she would let him do anything to her. Later, she would hate herself; later, she would hate him; later … later.
When he stood up and his expression changed to one of seriousness, she gasped and almost begged him to come back to her.
“Yesterday I dispatched men to escort your family to York. Your mother will be with you soon. I bid you sweet dreams, my lady.”
Her eyes widened for a moment. My God, did he know she dreamed of him? Nay, she was exhausted and was not thinking straight. She lay weak with relief after he left. Her body still tingled where he had touched her; her hatred for him hardened. “Too much,” she whispered. “Too big. Too strong. Too dark. Too many wives.”
Her thoughts drifted to Bryan, and she worried for his welfare. If Ravenspur harmed one hair on his head, she would kill him. Then she laughed at herself. Surely Sir Bryan did not need a maid to defend him. He was a knight, wasn’t he? What could he have done differently under the circumstances? she asked herself. He couldn’t throw down the gauntlet and challenge Ravenspur. The chivalric law did not allow a man of noble blood to be challenged by a man below his rank. And yet … and yet. Roseanna was asleep before she finished the thought.
York was built on the site of an ancient Roman town. It sat in the vale of York; the dark hump of the North York Moors rose beyond it.
