Page 88 of The Raven and the Rose
“Did he help her?” Roger demanded.
“He did more. He fell in love with her and married her.”
“What?” The word exploded from him as if he spat fire. “The faithless bitch! I’ll kill her!”
“She refused to marry him, but that degenerate pig Clarence returned and forced his abominations on her. Her mother and I urged her to accept Lincoln. My lord, she had no alternative!”
Roger sank down and buried his head in his hands. His precious Roseanna! He felt as if his heart were bleeding. Kate left him alone.
After a while James Burke got up enough courage to go in to him and offer him another drink. Roger threw off his inertia and strode from the hall. Edward’s battles would have to wait. He had one of his own to win first!
Lincoln received a message from Warwick that Edward had landed and was approaching Nottingham. Warwick asked that Lincoln join him in Coventry. He had also sent urgent messages to George, Duke of Clarence, to bring the four thousand soldiers he had recruited.
When Ravenspur strode into the hall at Lincoln Castle, Line thought he was another messenger. Roseanna turned from her husband to the messenger and gave a joyous cry from her heart: “Roger!” Her hands flew out to steady herself, but her legs and head swam with unreality, and she fell into a dead faint.
Ravenspur strode up to Lincoln and dared him with his eyes to touch Roseanna. He bent swiftly and lifted her into his arms. “This lady is my wife,” he said implacably. “Show me to a couch where she may recover.”
“You’re not dead?” asked Line with deep dismay.
“Not yet!” replied Roger shortly.
Although Line was devastated by Ravenspur’s arrival, he led the way to Roseanna’s chamber and with great effort allowed Ravenspur to go in alone with her.
Roger laid her down and shook her gently. “Roseanna! Open your eyes and look at me!” As her eyelashes fluttered open, what he needed to know was written there pure and clear. There was no fear or dismay, only love for him. Her mouth was like a pink velvet rose, and he was starving for the taste of her. Their lips touched, then clung fiercely. He caressed her lovingly and held her to his heart. He loved this woman beyond his wildest dreams, and he was about to prove it by providing safety for her future. “Rest for a few minutes. I have to talk to Lincoln.”
“Roger!” she cried, alarmed at what he might do.
He gave her a reassuring smile and said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Trust me.”
Ravenspur approached the Earl of Lincoln calmly. “We have things to settle.”
“We do.” Line nodded stiffly. The two men were such a contrast to each other. Lincoln’s silver-gilt hair made him seem younger than his years, while Ravenspur’s darkness made him seem years older.
“The law is on your side, Ravenspur. Technically, Roseanna is still your wife,” Line conceded. “But I think she should be allowed to choose between us.”
Roger said, “Let us approach the matter with our heads rather than our hearts. We are at war. We will fight a battle, perhaps many battles, before it is done. If I die, I would like your oath that you will be a good husband to Roseanna and work for my son’s best interests.”
Lincoln’s eyes widened. “You have my oath.”
Roger continued, “If you die, I will give you the same pledge. If I live, Roseanna remains my wife unless she chooses otherwise. Is it agreed?”
“Agreed,” nodded Lincoln, feeling admiration for Ravenspur in spite of himself.
Roger hesitated. “Roseanna is too much woman to be long without a man. I am not unmindful of the service you have done me by protecting my family. I’ll just say my farewell to Roseanna.”
He went back to her chamber and found her with his son. “Look, he can take a few steps, and he can even say words,” she said with great pride. She pointed to Roger; “Dada,” she coached.
“Mama,” said the baby. He had the darkest eyes and the blackest curls Roger had ever seen, and they evoked the strangest emotions in Roger. Suddenly he wanted to cry.
“I’ll pack and go home immediately,” said Roseanna, looking sorry for all the trouble she had caused.
“Roseanna, do nothing,” he cautioned. “There will be terrible fighting when Edward and Warwick meet. Your husbands are pledged to opposite sides in this conflict. If one of us dies, you will still have the other.”
“You won’t die!” she cried.
“No, I won’t die,” he promised. “Sorry, little one, but you may have to wait awhile before you become the Baron of Ravenspur.”
He kissed the child good-bye but did not trust himself to touch Roseanna. He turned so swiftly, his cloak swept a vase of early snowdrops to the carpet. As Roseanna knelt to pick up the fragile white flowers, tears stole down her cheeks. She cried for joy that Roger lived; she wept for sadness that she had caused Line pain; she sobbed with fear for them both in the bloody battles that were inevitable.
