Kiss of the Rose (17 page)

The queen’s rather somber expression lightened as he approached and bowed to her. She put down her embroidery.

“You will play for us, Sir Christopher?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

She clapped her hands together and smiled, the pleasure on her face making her look younger than her fortyfour years.“I am already looking forward to it.You play exquisitely.”

Christopher bowed again, and as he backed away, he saw Rosalind and her friend Margaret appear in the doorway.

No doubt, Rosalind would be eager to hear what he had learned from Elias Warner, although the Vampire had been less than forthcoming. Christopher stopped walking. Why had his uncle insisted he had no part to play in the prophecy except to seduce Rosalind? Elias implied he was far more important than that and Christopher had to believe him. In truth, his ability to communicate with the Vampire might prove invaluable.

Christopher took up the lute the queen offered him. He sat down in the window seat and focused his attention on tuning the lute to the more accurate pitch of the flute Margaret was playing. He breathed in a now familiar fragrance of roses, and looked up to see Rosalind settling herself beside him. She’d replaced her old green riding habit with a brown-and-gold embroidered kirtle that matched her eyes.

He smiled at her. “Do you play, my lady?”

She shrugged, the motion drawing his attention to her breasts and the amber cross nestled between them. He wondered if anyone would notice if he leaned forward and licked a path down that soft valley…

“I have no talent for any musical instrument, but I can sing a little.”

He swept his hand over the strings of the lute in a melodious chord. “Shall we make sweet music together, then, my lady?”

She raised her chin at him. “I will sing as the queen commands me to, sir.”

Christopher looked over at the queen, who was smiling and nodding in his direction. “Your Majesty? Would you like to start with a rousing song for May Day?”

“Indeed, Sir Christopher. Then we can all join in.” The queen clapped her hands and the small court settled down in a circle around her, some seated on the floor, others leaning up against the walls. One man took up a set of drums and another the psaltery, and both looked at Christopher expectantly.

He struck a loud opening chord of an old familiar tune, and the other musicians joined in. Beside him, Rosalind took a deep breath and began to sing. He angled his head to hear her better, entranced by the purity of her voice, and the bell-like tones.

“Unite, and unite, and let us all unite

For summer is a-comin’ today.

And whither we are going we will all unite

In the merry morning of May.”

Christopher picked up the harmony and the rest of the court joined in. He studied the happy, laughing faces around him. Which one of these courtiers was the Vampire? He could get no sense of her now. He wondered if Rosalind could, but she seemed too intent on singing to be aware of anything else.

Even as he forced himself to seek that elusive, malevolent presence, he kept on playing. The quiet joy in the queen’s dark eyes was reward enough for his efforts. Rosalind sang steadfastly alongside him, her voice blending effortlessly with his, her body leaning into him as she swayed in time to the music. At long last, the queen clapped her hands again.

“Thank you, Sir Christopher, and all of you.That was wonderful.” She sighed. “May Day has always been a special time of year for me. It reminds me both of Our Blessed Virgin and my daughter, who is named for her.” She glanced out of the window to the garden beyond where the preparations for the May Day celebrations continued.“Shall we venture outside and see if the May-pole has its ribbons yet?”

Most of the court got to their feet, their excited chat-ter almost drowning out the queen’s quiet voice. When Rosalind attempted to rise, Christopher touched her sleeve and she hesitated.

“I have one more song to sing, my lady. Will you stay and listen to it?”

She bit her lush lower lip and slowly sat down again.

He retuned his lute and settled his fingers over the strings before looking into her eyes.

“Heaven pictured in her face

Doth promise joy and grace.

Fair Rosalind’s silver light

That beats on running streams

Compares not with her white,

Whose eyes are all sunbeams.

So bright my Nymph doth shine

As day unto mine eyn.

With this there is a red

Exceeds the damask rose,

Which in her cheeks is spread,

Where every favor grows;

In sky there is no star

But she surmounts it far.

When Phoebus from the bed

Of Thetis does arise,

The morning, blushing red

In fair carnation-wise

He shows in my Nymph’s face

As Queen of every grace.”

Christopher let the last sweet notes fall away and found he still couldn’t look away from Rosalind’s gaze. He cleared his throat. “Did that please you?”

She nodded slowly, her brown eyes huge in her face. “It was beautiful.” He shrugged.“It needs a far more talented hand than mine to make it perfect.” “You wrote that?” He inclined his head, and busied himself propping the lute up against the wall. He almost startled when she grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard. “It was perfect just as it was.”

He was so used to his uncle’s dismissive remarks about his interest in music that pretending her shy compliments meant nothing to him was extremely hard. He stood up and bowed.

“I’m glad my pitiful efforts met with your approval, my lady.”

Rosalind remained in her seat, her head cocked to one side as she regarded him. “Did you write it for me?”

“Some of it. I’m sure you can guess which part.”

She pouted. “And the rest of it was written for another of your conquests?”

“I believe the original, much shorter version, was addressed to a fair-haired lady called Cynthia.”

“Cynthia.” Rosalind stood up and he instinctively backed up a step. She dropped into a curtsy and gave him a blinding smile. “It was still beautiful, Christopher. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

She turned on her heel and headed for the open door. He called after her, “You are the only person who has ever heard it.”

She turned at the door and looked back at him. “You didn’t play it for dear Cynthia?”

“No, she was a passing fancy— unlike you.”

She looked at him for a long moment and then walked slowly back toward him. She stood on tiptoe, framed his face in her hands, and kissed his mouth. Before he could respond, she was gone again, her skirts flying out behind her along with the long tails of her hood. He brought his fingers to his lips and simply stood there like a half-wit until she disappeared from sight.

Rosalind swallowed hard as the fatty smell of roasting pig and lamb floated across from the fire pits where the king’s cooks strove to satisfy the gluttonous appetites of the court and the villagers from the surrounding countryside. The sky was a calm blue that matched Christopher’s eyes, and there were no clouds on the horizon.

Rosalind picked her way through the crowds watching the Morris dancers, and avoided those slurping ale. Sunlight glinted off the golden crown set atop the redand-white-striped Maypole. The brightly colored ribbons swung gently in the breeze as they were untangled and readied for use.

On a high dais, set against the protection of the palace walls, sat the king and the queen attired in matching green and gold.Although their chairs were a scarce foot apart, the king ignored the queen, and chattered instead to his courtiers and a few chosen ladies. Rosalind felt a surge of anger on the queen’s behalf, but could do nothing to help her.

“Lady Rosalind, you look very fetching in that silver and green gown.”

Rosalind curtsied to Elias Warner, who was attired in sumptuous pale blue velvet and satin, a heavy silver chain around his neck. His matching hat and shoes were indigo blue and his hat sported a peacock’s feather.

“Thank you, Master Warner. Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“I’d enjoy them a lot more if we could be rid of our little problem.” He shivered extravagantly and glanced up at the sky. “Although I doubt she will draw attention to herself out in the open like this.”

“Rhys, Sir Christopher, and I are keeping watch for anything unusual. I’m sure you will do the same.”

“I will indeed.” Elias bowed low. “Have you seen Sir Christopher today?”

“Not yet.” Rosalind kept her smile in place as Elias moved in close.

“He is enamored of you.”

“Is that so?”

“And despite your attempts to appear indifferent, you are interested in him as well.”

“That is none of your concern.”

His eyes went cold and flat. “Indeed it is. You were told to help Sir Christopher kill this Vampire.”

“And I am.”

He brought her palm to his lips and she flinched as the tips of his fangs pricked the soft skin at her wrist. Pain shot up her arm and she swayed.

“Let me go.”

“When you taste so… alive?” His smile dimmed. “You are not trying hard enough.”

“To do what?” Rosalind struggled to sound calm as her wrist pulsed to the frantic rhythm of her heart. She inhaled the scent of her own blood and Elias’s voice took on a seductive note that beckoned and beguiled her senses.

“You know what is required.”

“That I lie with Sir Christopher? That is nothing to do with you.”

His grip tightened. “Untrue. Three are mentioned in the prophecy. If Sir Christopher is not to your ‘taste,’ I’d be happy to offer my services.”

Rosalind wrenched her hand free of Elias’s. “I will never bed a Vampire.”

Elias’s smile was mocking as he deliberately licked his fangs. “We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?” He bowed and walked away. Rosalind unclenched her hand where twin pinpricks of blood welled. She patted the wounds with her kerchief, but the blood kept coming.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

She looked up to see Rhys and Christopher bearing down on her, and unsuccessfully tried to hide her injured wrist. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Rhys scowled and gently took her hand. “You’re bleeding.”

“It was just Elias Warner playing games.” She allowed Rhys to dab at her skin with his kerchief and then snatched her hand back. “It will stop bleeding eventually.There is something in a Vampire’s spittle that seems to keep blood flowing longer than it should.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Sir Christopher grimly. “I shall find Elias and remind him of his manners.”

“We might need his help. There is no point in antagonizing him.” Rosalind peered at the tiny puncture marks.“There, they seem to be healing up now. No harm done.”

From the matching expressions on Rhys’s and Christopher’s faces, she realized they didn’t quite agree with her. She folded her ruined kerchief and tucked it back into her hanging pocket. “Please, let’s not let such a minor thing stop us from enjoying the day and watching over the king and queen.”

Christopher’s face relaxed a little, although Rhys still seemed grim. “You’re right, of course, my lady.” Christopher offered her his arm. “Would you care to promenade with me and enjoy the fair?”

Rhys rolled his eyes at Rosalind. “I’ll be off, then. I’ll take first watch on the king and queen and I’ll see you later tonight.”

Christopher waited at her side, his brow creased as Rhys disappeared. “Are you planning on spending your night hours with Rhys rather than guarding the king with me?”

Rosalind took a deep breath. On the day of such an important festival, it was fitting that she remind Christopher of what she was. “It is the feast of Beltaine.”

“Beltaine?” Christopher went still and drew her down the darkened passageway between two of the vendors’ tents. He dropped her arm and swung around to face her. “And what will you be doing?”

“What I wish.”

“With Rhys?”

“With those who practice my faith.”

He stared down at her, his blue gaze narrowed. “I’ve heard how you practice your ‘faith.’ ”

“Indeed?”

“By fornicating in the fields.”

She opened her eyes wide at him. “It
is
a fertility festival, Sir Christopher.”

He snorted. “You deny me a place in your bed, and yet under the convenient blanket of your faith, you slake your lust with as many men as you wish.”

She struggled to control the tremble in her voice lest he think she was upset rather than justifiably angry. “I would ask you not to speak of things of which you know little and respect not at all.”

“By God’s teeth!” He glared down at her, a muscle flicking in his cheek, and slowly let out his breath.“I cannot believe I’m jealous.”

Rosalind gaped at him. “What did you say?”

“I’m jealous of any other man who gets to touch you.” His laugh was short and harsh. “But considering what you are, that’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Rosalind drew herself up to her full height, her hands fisted by her side. “I do not owe you either an explanation or an apology for the way I choose to live my life. Your slurs on my character are based on nothing but your distorted hatred of my people.”

“As are yours.”

“No, I’ve seen the work of Vampires firsthand. As a slayer, I vowed to rid this world of those who prey on the weak and plot to destroy humanity. I have never understood why the Ellis family has to interfere. Haven’t you killed enough of my people?” She shook her head. “By all that is holy, I should not have reminded you it is Beltaine.”

“Why not?” Christopher scowled at her. “Do you think I’m now sharpening my sword and licking my lips at the prospect of a gathering of Druids?”

“Your ancestors certainly did!”

“Well, I’m quite happy to leave you to your ridiculous posturing, as long as there is no human sacrifice involved.”