Page 62 of The Raven and the Rose
“If this is your way of apologizing, I’ll think on it,” she said grandly.
The corners of his mouth twitched. Even naked, her manner showed her royal blood as clearly as if she had proclaimed from the rooftops that she was the King’s daughter.
Late in the afternoon, when she thought perhaps he would not be in his chamber, she slipped along to satisfy her curiosity about what was in the leather trunk. She cautiously opened his door but gasped when he grinned at her.
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said artlessly.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Roseanna, you are a damned little cheat!”
She laughed. “Ravenspur, I have to be as wily as a fox to deal with you. Now, my lord, what did you bring me?”
“You are all woman! In spite of yourself you adore presents.” He indicated the trunk. “Help yourself.”
She knelt down and lifted the trunk lid. She gasped with pleasure at the sight of the brilliant silks. She pulled out a silken caftan of scarlet, and another of bright turquoise, and yet another of pale orchid. Beneath these was a robe of pure white with a white turban encrusted with small topaz jewels and golden beads. She opened the ivory casket and sniffed each bottle with appreciation. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that Roger removed his doublet and shirt without her noticing.
“Try them on,” he said huskily, and when she turned to look at him, she was stunned by his naked chest, powerfully muscled and covered with black hair. His powerful thighs showed clearly in his skin-tight breeches; his half-naked body disturbed her deeply. He exuded mastery over himself and, she imagined, over any situation in which he found himself. “Put one on,” he urged, “and I’ll have Mr. Burke fetch our supper up here.”
She could not resist the pure white robe with the matching turban and lifted it reverently from the trunk. Her mother’s words drifted back to her—“Enslave him”—and she wondered if it would be possible to enslave this man.
A low knock came upon the chamber door, and Roger uttered a fertile oath. He opened the door to admit Dirk. The young man handed Ravenspur a ring of keys. “The prisoner is secure for the night, my lord. His horse has been locked away as an added precaution.”
Roger nodded curtly and closed the door after him.
“What prisoner is that?” asked Roseanna with interest.
Roger’s face was closed and forbidding, and suddenly an ugly suspicion raised itself.
“Who is your prisoner, my lord?” she asked again.
“Leave it, Roseanna,” he warned.
Her mouth went dry. “It’s Sir Bryan, isn’t it?” she demanded.
“I suspect him of being involved in a plot of treason, Roseanna. I want him secure under my hand for the next few days.”
“Treason? You must be mad! You’re doing this because of jealousy—admit it!” she cried.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Have I reason to be jealous?”
“No, damn you! No, no! This is utterly ridiculous. You will release him at once!”
“No, Roseanna, I will not release him. Leave it be. You know nothing of the matter,” he said in forbidding tones.
“I know that he went with me and my brother to buy horses. Why, you might as well accuse my brother of treason!”
“I do,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened at his words. “You are mad, or lying, or both!”
He went over to his discarded doublet and drew a scrap of paper from the pocket. He handed her the note that read, “The prisoner is to be taken to Middleham.” She read it, then looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“When I found you missing, I searched Sir Bryan’s belongings and discovered this message along with a signaling lantern. As soon as I was safely out of the way, Sir Bryan signaled for your brother to come; then together they held you overnight in case they had to use you.”
“But they didn’t take me to Middleham,” she protested.
“I know, for I went to rescue you. They didn’t need to take you to Middleham. Jervaulx Abbey served them just as well without arousing your suspicions.”
“Ravenspur, I have no idea what you are talking about. Why would I be of any use to them in this deep plot?”
