Virginia Henley Read online

  When he rolled to her side, strange feelings enveloped her. She was relieved, yet she felt bereft that they were not still joined. He watched her warmly; her scent filled his nostrils, that elusive fragrance that had haunted him every night since he had met her.

  She raised shameful eyes to his. “You made me behave wickedly, Ravenspur! Are you satisfied?”

  His dark face was intense. “I’ll never be satisfied, Roseanna; I’ll never have enough of you.”

  She was covered with guilt and felt the blush would never leave her cheeks again. She moved away from him as if to flee the bed, but his arms forced her to stay. She knew he would keep her all night; the possessiveness of his touch told her he would keep her there against him. Ravenspur was the devil, and the devil was Ravenspur! She was tormented and frightened by her own feelings. She knew the barrier she had set up between them had challenged his manhood, and she knew he would not rest until he had smashed that barrier. But then she had made it so easy for him! Once engulfed in that warm bed, his nearness had overpowered her. Her senses were filled with the smell of him, and she could still taste him upon her tongue.

  She turned from him and buried her burning face in the pillows. He slipped a possessive arm around the curve of her waist and moved close against her back. She tried to make her small body rigid with rejection, but he ignored it. He’d lain awake too many nights and suffered great torment because he knew she was close by, but he had not been able to touch her. Now he could touch her —and would!

  Roseanna was consumed with guilt because she found him too darkly attractive and because the things he had done to her were wickedly exciting. She was shamed to her very soul.

  Roger longed to possess her again within a very few minutes, but his good sense told him that her first time was better short and sweet. Her body would respond to him swiftly next time because he had been gentle with her initiation. With his arm around her waist, he began to stroke her softly in a spot that would be soothing rather than arousing, and after a while Roger slept, relaxed and content, as he had not been in many months.

  Roseanna lay a long time with her thoughts swirling in chaos; then, exhausted, she finally succumbed to sleep’s irresistible beckoning.

  Roger awoke early, as was his custom, and lay content simply to look upon his beloved. First she stirred, then turned over, then slowly opened her eyes. She was spellbound for a moment; then as memory came flooding back to her, she began to tremble. Her soft lips quivered, and the tears spilled over.

  “My darling,” he said with concern, and moved to take her in his arms.

  “Don’t touch me!” she said with such venom that he was stunned. Her words mauled his pride. He had taken time to awaken her desire, and he knew she had received deep pleasure from his lovemaking. Yet now she wanted to deny it. She dashed the tears from her eyes with stubborn fists.

  “So,” he said with narrowed eyes, “with daylight the barriers are again erected between us, and we are again at daggers drawn.”

  “Nothing has changed.” She tossed her head angrily.

  “Roseanna, you are deluding yourself. You gave me greater pleasure than any woman has ever managed to give me, and your rich, womanly response told me that you also took joy in it.”

  “No more than with any other man,” she hurled at him cruelly. He swept aside the bedclothes to reveal the spots of blood on the snowy sheets. “You beast! You deflower and shame me, and now you are gloating over it! ’Tis all a game of dominance and submission to you, Ravenspur. Hoist your bloodied sheets up the flagpole and fly them from the castle’s highest tower to shout your virility to your men!” For a moment she was almost overcome by her hatred of the man—or was it herself she loathed?

  He would not let her make him lose his temper. His eyes suddenly glittered with amusement. “Lovemaking has given you a fit of hysterics.”

  “Oh,” she gasped, searching for cruel words of disparagement that would exacerbate his temper.

  He grinned wickedly. “Let’s hope you recover by bedtime.”

  She drew herself up regally. “Ravenspur, be sure of one thing. Tonight I sleep alone!” She swept from the room and crashed the door with such force that the tail end of her quilted bedgown was trapped in it. No matter how she pulled, she could not release it. She almost slipped out of it and ran naked to her own chamber, but the thought of coming face to face with Mr. Burke prevented her. In exasperation she reopened the chamber door to free herself and seethed as she saw Ravenspur doubled over with laughter on the bed at her sore plight.

  He knew a way to tease her that would make her livid. He felt as carefree and exuberant as a youth after his first conquest. He rang for Burke to fetch him hot water to wash and shave, and he whistled a merry tune while Burke selected his clothes from the wardrobe. Roger shook his head. “Not black. Not today.” He grinned like a lunatic. “Give me the purple—I feel like a king!”

  Mr. Burke kept his features totally impassive, but inside he was happy for Roger. The lad had known none but bitches, beginning with his mother. It was time for him to seize a little happiness. By the looks of things it wouldn’t be long before he’d breed some fine sons for the house of Ravenspur.

  As a finishing touch, Roger fastened a diamond stud in his ear and cast an admiring glance into a mirror. Then he took out a key and unlocked his cash box. He removed a leather pouch, counted five hundred pounds into it, and slipped it into his doublet. He turned to his servant. “If Tristan returns today, we’ll leave for Ravenglass tomorrow. Pack my saddlebags with enough clean garments for two weeks.”

  After he had gone, Mr. Burke shook his head. Ravenspur was never a man to shirk his duty, no matter what temptation was dangled before him, but Mr. Burke was willing to bet that it would be the hardest leavetaking he’d ever faced.

  Roger walked briskly down the corridor that led to Roseanna’s chambers and tapped lightly on the door. A startled Kate stood openmouthed as he dropped the heavy leather pouch into her hand. He winked suggestively and said, “For Roseanna. She was worth every penny!”

  Kate closed the door and turned to Roseanna. “It was Ravenspur. He brought you money.” Kate actually blushed—a thing Roseanna had never believed possible. She was so angry, she was incoherent and could only manage, “That damned devil, oh, that damned devil!” She could still see him laughing, and suddenly she didn’t know if she wanted to cry or tear his face to ribbons, “The wretched man!” she cried helplessly. “Now I really feel like a harlot!”

  Roseanna preferred her own company for the rest of the day. She went for a long ride over to the town of Richmond, where the castle dated from the eleventh century. The town was once a great center of Norman power, and the castle was its dominant feature. Her groom, Kenneth, was happy to provide escort and fill her in on all the history of the place.

  By the time they returned, Tristan and his men were back from Ravenscar and were preparing for their departure on the morrow for Ravenglass, on the opposite coast. Roseanna decided that Ravenspur would be well occupied in the dining hall and would not miss her sorely if she dined with her women in her own chamber this evening. If she could just avoid him tonight, she would be free of him for perhaps as long as a fortnight. Winter was fast approaching, and the brisk cold air she had encountered on her ride now took its toll and made her very sleepy. She retired early, relieved that she had not glimpsed Ravenspur that whole day.

  The castle was steeped in silence as the hour passed three and headed toward four o’clock. Kate Kendall sat bolt upright in her bed when something awoke her. She was just in time to glimpse Ravenspur entering Roseanna’s chamber. She blinked, knowing she could not again keep him from his wife. Then she shrugged and pulled the eiderdown up over her head.

  Roseanna, suddenly awakened, had no idea what hour it was. Her words, “How dare—” were rudely cut off by Ravenspur, whose voice brooked no foolishness. “Be silent, Roseanna.” He shrugged off his robe and got into bed. “I want nothing except to hold you. I ha
d a nightmare that I returned from Ravenglass to find you gone. I must be up in about two hours, but I want to spend this short time with you.” As he reached for her, she went rigid and turned stiffly away from him. He ignored her rejection, pulled her against him, and tucked her head beneath his chin. Their bodies curved together like two spoons, and with a possessive arm thrown over her, he was soon breathing the deep even breaths of sleep.

  Her rigid rejection was lost upon him, so gradually in the warmth of his body she began to relax. But something was stirring inside her that she refused to acknowledge. An ache, almost a longing began deep within her body. My God, this couldn’t be happening to her! The ache began between her legs and spread its fiery fingers up into her belly and inched its way up toward her round, full breasts like liquid fire. The ache grew unbearable until she had to bite her tongue to prevent her low moans from escaping. He was a devil of darkness who had played with her body, leaving sensuous memory in every pore, and now her weak flesh lay against the muscled length of him craving his lovemaking.

  Ravenspur turned over in his sleep, and momentarily relieved, she sighed as he presented his back to her. Furiously she told herself that she must detach her thoughts from him and let them drift off so that sleep could claim her. Roger lay on his side with his back toward her. The firelight made the room glow. She was suddenly admiring his shape, his wide, strong shoulders. His breathing came smoothly, slow and rhythmic. Slowly, as if compelled by a force greater than herself, she inched closer until she could again feel the heat from his body.

  Suddenly she was desperately fighting the urge to touch him. In her imagination she wanted to rub her breasts across his back, to let her belly rub against his buttocks. She wanted to glide her tongue over his skin and taste the salty, manly taste of him. Her body had become all nerve endings so that every inch of her skin tingled, and as the tightness of her lower body became unbearable, she let her imagination have its way. She fantasized that he released a breath that was half a sigh, half a moan. She dreamed that he turned to her and pulled her hips to his mouth; then his tongue began to dance over the delicate folds, teasing between her legs until the sensual ripples snaked upward into her belly. She moaned, and her hand reached out to caress him. Roger awoke instantly. As in her imagining a few moments before, he turned and lifted her hips to his mouth. “I dreamed that you let me love you this way,” he breathed huskily.

  Wildly, she thought it impossible that they had shared the same dream.

  “Let me love you, Roseanna!”

  She was shocked beyond anything she’d ever known as his tongue began its devilish dance in and out of her hot, throbbing womanliness. She tried to stop him, but an inner voice told her it was the most wickedly thrilling sensation she would ever experience, and she let him go on for long minutes. Finally she begged him to stop, but he was not ready to give up her sweetness. The throbbing pulse where his tongue thrust became heavier, threatening to erupt, yet he went on and on until she cried out and arched up from the bed. Finally, when the explosion came, it brought with it the most blissful feeling she’d ever known. Everything was totally new and exciting. The spark of sensuality had ignited into an explosion of erotic sex. He had her primed and willing now, and he wasn’t about to let her retreat behind her cold, rigid barrier yet.

  His hot mouth moved up her throat, and he murmured into her ear, “Whisper to me your secret fantasies. What wicked reveries delight you?” She could not answer him, for she was beyond words. So he whispered his wicked desires to her and finished, “I would like to do that with you! Let me love you again, Roseanna, before daylight comes and makes you circumspect!”

  She reached out, and her fingers closed around his swollen shaft. He groaned his pleasure, and they were shamelessly hungry for each other again. Her breath was ragged, and he knew her desires were as great as his. Her sighs of delight as his pulsing shaft thrust deep told him that she received almost as much pleasure as did he. She caught his rhythm and moved with him until they were both lost in the throes of passion. His seed thundered into her; her enjoyment was so intense, she almost fainted. His body shook with a great shudder of intense pleasure as he filled her with his love.

  At dawn he slipped from her bed, taking infinite care not to disturb her. He caught his breath at her loveliness. Her hair was disheveled, and it suited her. She was wildly beautiful. He silently cursed his state of erection as he yearned for a time when they could awaken together. Then he would reach for her, and she would open to him and welcome his advances. The nightmare had shaken him, although he kept the lurid details to himself. In the dream when she’d been missing, he had searched for Roseanna and had found her dead, exactly as he had found Janet. His face grim, he silently put on his robe and went softly from the chamber.

  Roseanna spent the morning visiting Rebecca. She wasn’t surprised to learn that Tristan had spent the night with her. Their relationship was much improved; Rebecca was eager for Tristan’s return from Ravenglass, for if the political situation seemed quiet, they would all be traveling back to Ravenspur.

  “Did Roger tell you how long they would be away?” asked Rebecca hopefully.

  Roseanna shook her head. “We didn’t speak of it. I assume they’ll be gone about two weeks, but I suppose it could be much less. Ravenglass is about sixty miles from here. If they ride hard, they could get there in a day.”

  Rebecca sighed. “The thought of moving the entire household again fatigues me, but I’ll be glad to go home. I’ve had enough of the frozen North.”

  “I’m looking forward to going to Ravenspur Castle. I haven’t seen my real home yet,” said Roseanna.

  “Oh, you’ll love it. It’s so much prettier than this place. It doesn’t seem like a castle at all. In the spring and summer the gardens are like a picture, and the parkland between Ravenspur and the house where Tristan and I live is ideal for riding. It’s nothing like the wild moors up here.”

  “I rather like these hills and dales, although they seem like mountains to me. I suppose I’d better get Kate Kendall started on the packing if we are about to move households. I’ll consult with Mr. Burke; he knows everything that’s going on, and he usually has everything under control.”

  Her mind was already busy with the horses. They’d take them all back to Ravenspur, taking special care with the three mares that were in foal. She’d have to speak again with Thomas about the white horses that those monks were known to breed. Now that she had money, she intended to buy a mare or two to breed with the Arabian.

  That evening, she again dined in her chamber rather than go down to the dining hall, which would be empty except for servants and the castle women. Afterward, she took a notion to explore Ravenspur’s chamber. What a great opportunity to satisfy her curiosity about the chamber—aye, and about the man! His possessions would give her insight into his personality and perhaps his weaknesses.

  In his room she blushed at the sight of the bed, yet she spent a pleasant hour touching his belongings, looking into coffers and cabinets, and admiring his rich clothes, which were hung in two large wardrobes. One, she noticed, smelled of exotic sandalwood, while the other held the scent of newly mown hay from the herb woodruff.

  Already she had known him for a fastidious man; now she realized how neat and organized he was. The room was furnished richly, and she could tell he loved luxury; yet she knew he was Spartan enough to survive any hardship. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and tossed her head in disdain. A mirror, indeed! To admire himself, no doubt. He was an arrogant and prideful devil, too.

  She was aghast when the ache inside her began. In a panic she fled the room to dispel his influence. She closed the door with a soft thud to return to her own chamber, but as she passed the doorway that led up to the barbican tower, she came face to face with Sir Bryan. He was carrying a shuttered lantern, which he quickly set down, and he drew her into his arms. “Oh, Roseanna, my heart bleeds for lack of you.”

  She reached up to caress his face
tenderly. “My sweet Bryan, don’t pine for me. It breaks my heart.”

  He pulled her into the shadow of the doorway lest anyone see them. She glanced up the stairs to the barbican tower. “What were you doing up there?” she whispered.

  “I go up there to be alone—to compose verses to you.” She felt his breath upon her cheek; he sounded so young and sincere that she almost melted. “It must be freezing up there. What manner of lantern is that?” she puzzled.

  “The shutters are for closing so the drafty winds cannot blow out the light.”

  Roseanna accepted his explanation, yet in the recesses of her mind she knew shuttered lanterns served a dual purpose.

  When he whispered, “May I kiss you?” her heart nearly burst with pity. He demanded nothing but the crumbs that were left over from Ravenspur’s table. She lifted her mouth to his and found his lips cold. They remained fused together until her warmth entered him. She wanted to take him to her cozy chamber where they could be warm and private and share their precious thoughts, but she knew she must not. “Go down to the kitchens for something warm to eat and drink. I’ll meet you there as if by accident. We can talk before the fire. None can deny us such a small pleasure.”

  They shared a high-backed settle before the enormous kitchen fireplace, sipping slowly on warmed ale and gazing into the flames.

  “Does Ravenspur hurt you?” he asked.

  She was startled at his question but answered truthfully, “No. Why do you ask?”

  “He murdered his last wife, and I’ve learned the unspeakable way he did it. She was raped with his dagger!”

  Roseanna recoiled, horrified at his accusation. “Nay, Bryan, I’ll not believe it. Where did you hear such foul slander?”

  “One of his own men told me. Ravenspur was arrested for the murder, and only the fact that the King intervened on his behalf saved his neck.”