Page 48 of The Raven and the Rose
She looked him directly in the eye and answered boldly, “Perhaps I have tried more things than you give me credit for, Ravenspur.”
He smiled at her. “You avoid my given name like the plague, Roseanna. Are you afraid to call me Roger?”
“Me? Afraid? Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, tossing her head. Her hair flew back over her shoulder, then fell to the carpet in a silken, rippling, dark waterfall. He vowed that he would wrap himself in that hair before long. It was the most sensuous hair he’d ever beheld, and he longed to play with it.
Mr. Burke removed the first course and returned with two heavy silver tureens. When the covers were removed, a delicious aroma arose with the steam from the partridges. One dish held four roasted birds; the other held partridges cooked in wine with mushrooms and chestnuts. There was a panache of fresh greens to go with the game, but no other vegetables. The meal was simple yet elegant. They ate at a leisurely pace, yet each was filled with anticipation for the backgammon game that lay ahead. The air was charged with a subtle tension, for each was eager to challenge the other and emerge victorious. They were so alike in temperament that neither even considered the possibility of losing.
Roger threw scraps to the wolfhound, who had roused himself from before the fire to investigate the delicious smells coming from the table. Roseanna reached for a ripe pear at the same moment as Roger, and their hands touched for an instant. It was as if a flame ran up her arm from his touch. She couldn’t keep a blush from staining her cheeks and was relieved when Mr. Burke created a diversion by bringing them rosewater bowls and towels to wash their hands. Roger nodded imperceptibly to Mr. Burke that he wished no further intrusions into the room; then he filled their goblets and took them over to the games table beside the fire.
Roger drew in his breath as Roseanna passed in front of the fire. Her body was clearly silhouetted through the filmy underdress. Again Roger held her chair, but this time as her hair brushed his hands, he stroked it. It crackled beneath his fingers.
“Beware, I give off sparks,” she laughed tauntingly.
The black stones on the backgammon table were carved from ebony, and the whites from ivory. He waved his hand that she should make the first throw. She picked up the two dice and rolled them onto the board. She had rolled a double of four and four, so she moved four stones four points each. She played intently and was determined to get all fifteen stones into her inner table before Ravenspur managed to do the same with his stones. He was playing negligently, allowing his attention to focus on her, so she wasn’t worried about losing. “You were so eager to begin. What stakes are we playing for?” he drawled.
“Money, of course,” she said, laughing.
He smiled. “What do you need money for?”
“Horses. I’m going to buy some decent mares to breed.”
“Then money it shall be. Five hundred pounds.” He watched her carefully, then asked casually, “Do you have five hundred pounds?”
“Of course not,” she said.
“Then how will you repay me?” he asked pleasantly.
“I’m going to win, not lose!” she pointed out.
“I see,” he said calmly, not seeing her logic at all.
With each throw of the dice, she made her point. She combined moving with bearing off, and in a short time she was elated because she’d won.
“I am playing at a disadvantage, Roseanna.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “How so?”
“Your beauty distracts me,” he murmured.
“What a poor excuse. You must concentrate. What shall we play for next?” she asked.
He considered a moment, then suggested, “Jewels? My ruby earring against your sapphire hair ornament.”
His lean brown fingers unfastened the earring, and he placed it before her on the board. She reached up for her moon and stars, and when she removed it, her hair tumbled down where it had been held back. He smiled into her eyes. “I suggested your sapphires only so that when you removed the clasp I would have the pleasure of seeing your hair fall around you in all its glory.”
“Ravenspur,” she said, beginning to feel a little uneasy, “pay attention to the game.” She picked up the two dice to roll.
“How can I?” he whispered. “You have deliberately used a perfume that robs me of my senses.”
“Fool!” She laughed nervously and challenged him to double.
“You have deliberately dressed to arouse me,” he said low.
“Liar!” she threw back.
“And you have succeeded,” he finished.
Toward the end of the game Roger had not borne off a single stone belonging to Roseanna, and she scored a gammon. She could not hide the triumph in her eyes. “Perhaps you will play a better game if we play for something closer to your heart,” she suggested.
