Page 44 of The Raven and the Rose
Good,thought Roseanna.Now if I can only run my own life as easily as I run others’.She gave Ravenspur a swift sideways glance and found his eyes upon her. Suddenly he gave her a very suggestive wink. Flustered, she turned to Richard and said, “I claim the first dance, Your Grace.”
“Please call me Richard. I want us to be friends.” As they danced, he said, “When you visit London, be sure to take a ride in the Royal Barge at night. It’s most exhilarating. The Thames current runs very fast, especially under London Bridge, and at night the lit torches stream tails of sparks like comets. But be sure to take a perfumed pomander with you—the Thames stinks, I’m afraid.”
She looked up at him. “From what I’ve heard, all Rivers stink!” He doubled over with laughter, for she referred to the Queen’s father, Lord Rivers, who at sixty was still as randy as a goat.
“Though I’m loyal to Edward in all things, I must admit I quite detest Elizabeth and her whole tribe,” he confided.
“Why?” asked Roseanna with simple curiosity.
He thought for a moment and then said, “I think it’s because, as the King’s brother, she insists I kneel before her and kiss her hand. Yet never must my lips actually touch her skin. She is absolutely inviolate!”
“’Tis most curious, but I’ve yet to meet someone who likes her.” Now that she thought of it, even King Edward, her father, had warned her of the Queen and her family. Hated by all, she would be a formidable enemy. Roseanna decided to ask Ravenspur his opinion of her.
The musicians played tirelessly. Roseanna was pleased to see Rebecca partner first Richard and then Tristan for the gay galliard, that deliciously decadent dance in which the male lifts his partner high enough in the air to show her ankles and petticoat.
Ravenspur took Roseanna’s hand and led her to the dance. “I’d rather not, my lord,” she protested.
“You have purposely ignored me all evening, Roseanna. You will learn that that is a dangerous thing to do,” he whispered teasingly. The pressure of his hand on the small of her back forced her feet forward reluctantly. Then suddenly, breathlessly, he lifted her higher than any other woman in the room. The musicians quickened the tempo, and the dancers became more abandoned. On the second lift, he kept her in the air for thirty seconds. “Ravenspur, please!” she cried. All the dancers were kicking up their heels wildly now, and it became a contest to see who could hold their lady longest in the air. Everyone was laughing playfully, and even Roseanna began to enjoy the silliness. She couldn’t help giggling when her husband held her in the air and his fingers curled into her ribcage and tickled her unmercifully.
“Put me down!” she cried, now almost helpless with laughter.
Roger’s eyes glittered up into hers wickedly. “Cry mercy!” he told her, and he only allowed her feet to touch the floor for one second before he lifted her again.
“Ravenspur, please?” she begged.
“Say Roger,” he laughed. She shook her head, and he held her on high until her skirt fell about her thighs and exposed her stockings.
“Roger, Roger!” she cried, and quickly he let her down and took her into his embrace. She looked up at him, and suddenly they both stopped laughing. He was aflame with desire, and his secret part grew hard against her soft body. Needing the taste of her, he bent his head to ravage her mouth. Her response was so instant, so hot, that it shamed her. She pulled away, horrified at the desire she felt for him. Her body’s reaction mauled her pride.
“Are you mine, Roseanna?” he murmured softly.
“Never!” she hissed, and ran from the hall. Her heart was beating wildly. He always affected her that way. First she would feel so cool and calculating and think she could easily manipulate and handle him; then without warning her body would turn traitor on her, and she would no longer be in control of herself. She knew her time was growing short. He would not be put off much longer. He was far too virile to put up with this arrangement indefinitely.
When she reached Kate and Alice’s chamber, she suddenly thought of Bryan. If Ravenspur ever found him there, he would kill him without hesitation. She prayed that Bryan would not come. “Oh, Alice, help me unthread these pearls from my hair. I’ve danced too much; my poor head is spinning.” Alice put her jewelry away in its coffers, and Kate helped her remove the burgundy gown.
She moved toward her own chamber, then stopped and took Kate’s hand. “Kate,” she said very seriously, “if ever I had a visitor—one who came very late—you wouldn’t let him into my chamber, would you?” she pleaded.
“Need you ask such a thing? Off to bed with you, child!”
Roger lay in bed a long time, but sleep had seldom been as far away as it was this night. Why had he allowed this situation to develop? he asked himself over and over. He had made a very bad blunder on their wedding night when he left the nuptial bed to sleep on the couch. The marriage should have been consummated that night, even if force had been necessary. What bridegroom didn’t have to use his superior strength to overcome a bride’s reluctance? The trouble was, Roseanna was no ordinary woman. She was not only more beautiful than other women, she was finer in every way. She was accomplished and intelligent, and he did not need to remind himself that she was royal. Her bloodlines were evident. She was his heart’s desire, and he wanted her for his soulmate. He longed for that transcendence, that sense of crossing each other’s boundaries and becoming one.
He mocked himself for a fool. At this moment he was so frustrated, he would be willing to settle for a purely physical relationship. If she had haunted him before they were married, now she was like a fever in his blood. His need for her grew with every heartbeat. He was obsessed with her in body and mind. If he allowed it to go on much longer, there could be such a cataclysmic encounter that it would destroy them both.
He threw back the covers and reached for his robe. He would go to her and lay her on her bed and arouse her to the point where she would beg him to love her. His hands knew tricks that would make her mindless. Once he had made her his once, she would be his for a lifetime. After all, he was nearly thirty-two, with a man’s experience. She was just seventeen and untouched, if he guessed right.
He made his way to the northeast corner of the castle and recalled that to get to Roseanna he would have to pass through the outer chamber. He muttered a fertile obscenity, hating the idea of knocking and asking for permission to visit his own wife. But he suppressed his anger and knocked on the chamber door. Kate Kendall opened it and held a candle high. “Is aught amiss, my lord?” she asked low.
He swallowed a savage retort and stated evenly, “I want to visit Roseanna.”
“Oh, my lord, she is not expecting you. She went to bed unwell. Her head was spinning vilely.” Kate was determined to thwart him. Hadn’t she just given her word that she would not let him have entrance if he chose to visit her?
Roger looked toward the inner door and saw light shining from beneath it. He kept his temper but pressed the servingwoman. “If she is unwell, I think I should see to her.”
Kate shook her head firmly, as if dealing with one of her young charges. “You wouldn’t be kind if you disturbed her, my lord. She only needs rest, and she wouldn’t get that if you visited her, would she?”
The old horror of being denied entry to his wife suddenly gripped him. What if she were entertaining her lover? He’d seen the young knight pass her a note this morning. No, the thought was too vile to contemplate! Yet it lingered so that he doubted the wisdom of forcing the issue. As he turned to leave, Kate said, “Good night, my lord.”
Good night? Nay, one of the worst he’d endured. Christ, she had vowed to make him wretched, and she was succeeding. He slammed his chamber door and ground his teeth. Though the chamber was large, it caged him. It imprisoned the essence of him, the strength, the male recklessness. Suddenly he booted a stool across the room, then hurled an obscenity after it. He fought the urge to go and see if Fitzhugh was in the men’s quarters. Nay, that way lay madness.
