Virginia Henley Read online

  She made no comment. He was adorned in white satin and diamonds, and she knew in that instant that he would indulge himself no matter what the cost to others.

  “Your son is the new Baron of Ravenspur. I am considering making him a ward of the crown so that I can administer his estates.”

  “No!” she cried, her hand going to her throat.

  “Everything rests in your hands, my sweet Roseanna. Please me, and I will increase your son’s lands and titles tenfold. Spurn me, and I will have him removed from this household!”

  The blackmail threat enveloped her; no matter which way her mind turned to escape him, she was caught securely in his web. Suddenly she heard the voice of Rebecca cry out in anguish.

  “Do not let them harm my sister-in-law,” she begged.

  “She’s not a virgin, I believe?” he drawled.

  “Stop them!” she implored him.

  “I have already told you—it is in your hands, little girl. Only say that you will come to me tonight, and everyone in your household, including your son, will be safe from harm.”

  “I will come to you,” she promised softly.

  Roseanna bade Kate mix a sleeping draught for Rebecca and told her to put an abortifacient in it to be on the safe side; Rebecca was hysterical and refused to say what the men had done to her. Then Roseanna sought out Mr. Burke and examined his facial laceration. “Do not provoke them, Mr. Burke. I will take care of the duke’s needs. Pray God they will be gone tomorrow.”

  He looked at her with anguished eyes. “If only there were something I could do to aid you, my lady.”

  “There is. I want you to bury the gold plate the Queen sent for my son’s christening. Then get Roger’s coffers to a safe place where they will not be found. I must hide my good jewels, for mark my words, Mr. Burke, he will have everything from me before he is satisfied.”

  She did not dine with her guests but bathed in the privacy of her room. Then she put on a simple warm white velvet robe with wide sleeves, poured a goblet full of pale golden Chablis, and sipped it slowly to calm her nerves. She told herself bravely, I am more of a woman than he is a man! I shall emerge victorious from this encounter!

  When the dregs of the wine cup were drained, she took a deep breath and went to George’s bedchamber. He had been drinking most of the afternoon, and his face was flushed from the wine. It had loosened his tongue, and she noted with disgust that his conversation was coarse.

  “Welcome, little girl. You’ll not regret it, for I have the biggest cock in England.”

  She lowered her lashes to her cheeks, lest he see the fear in her eyes. He reached out long fingers to toy with her nipples beneath the robe. “Your breasts are magnificent,” he said thickly. Where he rubbed her nipples, two tiny wet spots became visible on the bodice of the velvet robe. His eyes dilated and his organ swelled and hardened.

  He took her hand and placed it on his groin to give her an idea of his unusual size. He whispered, “I won’t be satisfied until I’ve put my yard up you more times than my brother.”

  She knew he was obsessed with his brother the King. She wanted to cry out that Edward was her father, not her lover, but she dared not. If he knew her child was Edward’s grandson, he would take not only his lands but his life.

  George pulled her to the bed. He quickly disrobed and lay back awaiting her. She had expected him to fall upon her and ravage her, so this behavior surprised and alarmed her. It would be worse than she had imagined if he expected her to service him. She stood quietly by the bed, gathering her courage for what had to be faced.

  “I’m waiting, little girl,” he said in a menacing tone, narrowing his eyes.

  Slowly she removed her robe and knelt upon the bed. She looked at his sex organ with alarm. It was enormous. Using the coarsest language, he told her in shocking detail what he wanted her to do to him.

  As she knelt down to him, her silken hair swept forward like a curtain to cover her shame. Suddenly his hand shot out to grab her hair in a cruel grip. “You intended to bite me, didn’t you?”

  She offered no denial but quickly veiled the triumph in her eyes lest it incense him further. He got off the bed and ordered her to kneel at its edge. He came up from behind her and tried to enter her. Roseanna had had no experience of what it was that he attempted.

  “Christ Almighty, you’ve never been initiated—you’re too small!” he ground out. Frustrated in everything he desired, he flipped her flat onto her back and ordered thickly, “Spread yourself!” He thrust inside her cruelly until she thought she would burst. “Respond to me!” he ordered. Then his avid mouth fastened onto her breast and he sucked her milk from her. Once he’d satisfied his cruel desires, he fell into a stupor.

  Later that night, Roseanna sat in the window embrasure. She was too numb to feel or think. George roused in the great bed.

  “What are you doing over there?” he demanded.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured.

  “If you cannot sleep, I haven’t used you enough. Come back to bed.”

  In the morning she escorted the duke and his gentlemen to the stables. She wanted to see with her own eyes that he had quit the place. His greedy eyes fell upon the white mares. “Are these Arabians?” he asked.

  “No, sire. They are bred by the Cistercian monks at the Abbey of Jervaulx.”

  “I have a fancy for them,” he said smoothly.

  “These are only mares. I’m sure if you visited the abbey, you would find the stallions more to your taste.”

  “Perhaps,” he temporized. “Next time I visit you, little girl, perhaps you will be generous enough to gift me with the mares.”

  The mares meant a great deal to her, especially since they had all been bred to Mecca, but she heard only the words next time I visit you.

  She reached her bedchamber on shaky legs. As Kate came toward her with the baby, she cried, “Don’t bring me the child while I’ve the stink of that pig on me. Get me a bath, Kate!” She scrubbed herself until her skin was raw, and she would not come out of the water until Kate said, “The shame is his, not yours, Roseanna.”

  “You are right, of course, Kate. I have no time to waste in this fashion. I must be up and about, making plans to protect my son. I’m going to have to wean him, Kate. I must place him where he will be safe, and that may not be at my side.” She donned a black mourning gown and went briskly around, giving her household orders. In the midst of all this, her mother arrived.

  “Kate, what lies have you been telling me that Roseanna was half dead, walking around in a trance?” asked Joanna.

  “I’ve had a rude awakening,” said Roseanna caustically. She took her mother up to a bedchamber close to her own and told her everything that had happened, leaving out no detail. “I want you to take my son to Castlemaine. That isn’t out of George’s reach, but Ned won’t be nearly as vulnerable. Take Alice back with you, and I would appreciate it if you also took Rebecca and her little girl. Tristan will never forgive me if I don’t keep them out of harm’s way.”

  “What about Kate?” asked Joanna.

  “Kate is my strength. Without her, I’d go mad,” Roseanna said simply. “I’m going to arrange for old Dobbin to take all the best horses home to my father.”

  “Isn’t that going a bit far, darling?” asked Joanna.

  “I’ll not let that whoreson swine have even the smoke off their horseshit! Everything belongs to my son, and I’ll die saving it for him!” she vowed.

  “It’s a man’s world, Roseanna. Haven’t you just had that lesson driven home to you?”

  “Then I’ll get a stronger man! I’ll go to Warwick if I have to,” she threatened.

  “He’s above temptation—I tried years ago. His God is ambition, and he will sacrifice everything to it. Women mean nothing to him.”

  “Then I’ll appeal to Ravenspur’s overlord. Surely the Earl of Lincoln will at least listen to me if I swear him allegiance for my son’s land and title.”

  Joanna look
ed at her daughter with admiration. “’Tis said he is a young man. If he has a young man’s appetites, he will not be immune to your beauty.”

  Kate brought a heaping tray for Joanna, for she knew what a lusty eater she had always been. Roseanna said, “Kate, find Mr. Burke and come back. I want to speak with you both.” When they returned and stood waiting for her decisions, she was very grateful to have such loyal people who really cared about what happened to her. “Mother is taking my son to Castlemaine. Alice and Rebecca will accompany them. I must leave tomorrow on an important mission, and I want you both with me. Ravenspur’s fleet of merchant ships is anchored at Liverpool. I must speak with the captains and get the ships safely out of the country. They are responsible for much of Ravenspur’s wealth, and I cannot let them fall into the hands of the Duke of Clarence. Mr. Burke, do you think it would be feasible for them to sail out of Drogheda?”

  He nodded. “Aye. The Boyne empties into the sea close by Drogheda.”

  “Good. You’ll both come with me to Liverpool? Tell no one,” she cautioned. “We travel in secret.”

  James Burke spoke up. “The most direct route is through Derby. There is a Roman road from that town that leads directly to the coast.”

  Roseanna spent the next twenty-four hours patiently trying to feed her son bread and milk. He ate it hungrily, yet still cried for his mother’s breast as if that were the only thing that would satisfy him. Kate fashioned him a dummy teat that he sucked willingly enough, but he screamed furiously when no milk was forthcoming. Finally Roseanna came to a hard decision. “Mother, my time is running out. I want you to leave for Castlemaine today. Little Ned won’t starve; his appetite is too voracious for that. He’ll adjust much more quickly when I’m not available.”

  Once the child was not there to occupy every waking moment, she found herself longing for Roger. She busied herself with preparations for the journey to Liverpool throughout the day, but that night she found she couldn’t sleep because her body ached for him. Thinking back, she found it incredible that she had ever rejected him, and she regretted all the time she had wasted defying him. Yet it had been a sort of mating dance they had performed; irresistibly, male and female had been drawn together, becoming one. But how cruel it was to be wrenched apart! She felt mutilated.

  It was late when the closed carriage drew up at the innyard in Derby. James Burke went into the hostelry while the women waited inside the coach. He secured two bedrooms and a private dining parlor and asked for extra logs for its fire.

  Roseanna pulled her hood closely around her face as she quit the coach and entered the inn. She did not remove it until they were safely ensconced inside the private parlor. A door that joined the room to another private parlor opened and a servant brought an armful of logs. Briefly, before the door was closed, Roseanna saw a man staring at her with open admiration in his eyes. She was used to men staring boldly at her and thought nothing more of it.

  The young man in the next room immediately inquired about the lady’s identity. The innkeeper could tell him nothing. He sent wine around to her; it was politely refused, and he felt thoroughly frustrated.

  He was a young nobleman returning from Coventry, where he and the other earls of the realm had been closeted with Warwick, deciding England’s future—if they could ever come to an agreement. He did not know what intrigued him more, her outrageous beauty or the air of mystery surrounding her, but in that one brief glimpse he had been snared.

  Roseanna would not have been indifferent if she had known the man occupying the other private parlor was the Earl of Lincoln.

  She met with the captains of Ravenspur’s merchant fleet. At least two of them were familiar with the Drogheda estate in Ireland. She appointed one of them captain over the others and authorized him to take care of her son’s shipping enterprise. She told them they must never drop anchor in an English port unless King Edward was returned to the throne. She arranged to travel to Ireland the following summer, when most of them would be returning from trading ventures in far-off lands.

  It would be easy to sail to Ireland with them and thereby escape the Duke of Clarence. She had the deed to the estate in Drogheda, which Ravenspur had given her. It was separate from the other landholdings and could not be taken from her, but if she abandoned Ravenspur, it and the other castles would be snatched from her son forever. Resolutely, she prepared to return home.

  The closer she got to Ravenspur, the more she dreaded another encounter with the Duke of Clarence. She shuddered. The memory of him clung to her like scum on a pond! She calmed herself by making plans to visit the Earl of Lincoln and beg him for his aid. Upon her return, she rested for one day only, for she found herself at the upper windows anxiously scanning the countryside so often that she knew she could not let another day pass without taking action.

  The ancient town of Lincoln was pre-Roman in origin; it was dominated by a cathedral built by William the Conqueror four centuries before. The castle seemed ugly to Roseanna after the elegance of Ravenspur, but it was a formidible stronghold. She took Kate with her to attend to her toilette, for Roseanna was a woman who knew the true value of appearance. She was a woman appealing to a man, and she intended to use every feminine device she possessed.

  There was nothing she could do about the color of her gown: she was in mourning, and it had to be black. But she chose the finest black silk gown, which rustled provocatively; its neckline, which seemed modest, was deceptive in that it molded her breasts and exposed them when she dipped into a deep curtsey. She had swept her hair back to show off her heart-shaped face. It was held in place by a gold filigree clasp, then fell straight down her back in a silken waterfall. With her hair pulled back, her cheekbones stood out, and her eyes were slightly slanted. Her mouth was painted the same deep luscious red as the rubies in the diamond necklace Roger had gifted her with. Its huge pearl nestled in the deep valley between her breasts.

  The castle chamberlain led her into the reception room, where the earl received the people of Lincolnshire who requested audiences with him. A calmness came over her. The Earl of Lincoln was seated at an ornate refectory table doing paperwork, when he glanced up and saw her approach. His eyes widened, and he was on his feet instantly, coming forward to meet her.

  She was surprised by his youth. He could be no more than twenty-five. He was of medium build but so good-looking, she couldn’t help but stare. He had silver gilt hair and silver eyes.

  “Who are you?” he asked, forgetting his manners completely. His voice was deep and rich as if it belonged to a much older man.

  She sank into a graceful curtsey that displayed her magnificent breasts. “I am Lady Roseanna, Baroness of Ravenspur.”

  “I’ve seen you before,” he told her.

  Her eyebrows went up in a question, and he supplied, “At the inn in Derby a fortnight past.”

  The corners of her mouth went up deliciously. “You were the gentleman who stared so boldly?”

  “I confess I was, madame. You were right to treat me with disdain.”

  Her lashes swept to her cheeks. “I—I am recently widowed, unprotected. I am easy prey, my lord.”

  He stiffened. “Some man is forcing his attentions on you,” he said with perception.

  She sighed deeply and sadly and nodded. “I came to you for advice, my lord. Though you and my husband were on different sides, you are technically my overlord.”

  “Who is this man who dares offer you insult?” he asked.

  Her eyelashes sparkled with unshed tears. “I am frightened to tell you his name,” she murmured.

  He took her hand between both of his and pressed it reassuringly. “Come through to the inner room, where we can be less formal, Lady Roseanna. It grieves me to see your evident distress.”

  Obediently she allowed him to take her into a small drawing room with comfortable sofas and a cozy fire. He poured wine into two small crystal glasses and handed her one. As her fingers brushed his, she heard his sharp intake of breath. S
he sipped her wine in silence; the sexual tension between them almost crackled in the air.

  He said low, “Please trust me. Whatever you tell me will be in strictest confidence, and I pledge to do anything that is within my power.”

  She smiled tremulously, and his heart turned over. “My lord—”

  “My friends call me Line,” he invited.

  “I’m being blackmailed.”

  His eyes widened, but he held his silence, hoping she would continue.

  “By a man of high rank,” she finished.

  “So high, you are frightened to give me his name?” asked Line, incredulously.

  Roseanna nodded. “Two months before my husband was killed, I had a son. He is now Baron Ravenspur— except … except the Duke of Clarence threatens to become his guardian and take his lands away unless—unless I give him access to my bed.” She sat facing him; the firelight turned her jewels to flame.

  He whistled at the royal name. “He’s married to Warwick’s daughter! The kingmaker will take a dim view when it becomes known to him.”

  “My lord—”

  “Line,” he insisted.

  “Line, tell me if it is within his power to do this to my son.”

  Line nodded slowly. “He could either take your son’s wealth in wardship until he comes of age, or he could issue a warrant of attainder and have everything revert to the Crown—but only if he becomes King, Lady Roseanna.”

  She drooped visibly at this news, so he hastened to explain, “It is by no means a certainty that George will be crowned. I tell you this in strictest confidence. The nobility does not want him. Most of the Lancastrian lords want old King Henry restored.”

  “But he’s mad! He resides in the Tower of London.”

  “Mad, yes. Yet still they prefer him to the Duke of Clarence.”

  “You have given me hope, at least. When will this be decided?”

  “Soon. We all want this matter settled. Continual war drains the lifeblood of a realm.”

  “Will you add your voice to those who oppose the crowning of the Duke of Clarence?” she begged.