The Marriage Prize (10 page)

lord."

"Splendor of God, you are looking forward to this battle of the

sexes, unless I miss my mark."

"I am," Rod conceded with a wolfish grin. "I know who the victor wil be!"

"You ruthless devil, you desert me without a thought, caring

little if I die of night starvation."

"You'l survive, my lord. I'm not leaving until dawn, which wil

give you ample time for one or two jousts."

Close on midnight, when Rod opened his chamber door to

admit Alyce, he was in a playful mood. "What makes you think

Edward is up to it tonight after spending most of the day in

freezing water?"

"You are teasing me, chéri. I too can play games." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, then deliberately cupped his cock with

her hand and felt it harden. Her lips caressed his ear as she

whispered, "Anytime Edward is not up to it, I know you can

give me satisfaction. Never forget I chose you first, my

beautiful Rod."

He playful y slapped her bottom and ushered her toward the

inner door. If he had resisted her charms when she was an

overripe virgin of sixteen, he surely had no difficulty resisting

her now. Rod stripped and lay down on his bed in the

darkness, glad of the cold night air that blew through the arrow

slits of the Warwick Tower to cool his flesh. In spite of his

exhausting day, sleep did not come. He could dimly hear the

love play coming from the adjoining chamber, and he tossed

restlessly as he tried to mental y block the arousing sounds. At

first, it seemed impossible, until he began to think about

Rosamond Marshal.

Her image came to him ful blown, exactly as he had last seen

her in the carnation red velvet. Her eyes were dark violet,

fringed with long golden lashes, her cheeks were sun-kissed,

and her mouth was the same luscious, bright red as her gown.

He watched the tip of her tongue lick her top lip, then the ful

bottom lip, and he felt a surge of blood rush into

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his cock. Her glorious hair caressed her shoulders, then fel

down her back, brushing her waist and curling about her hips.

She knew the silky, waving mass attracted him, for she

deliberately tossed it behind a saucy shoulder, then bent

forward so that it spil ed over her breasts, possessively

touching and taunting.

Her ful -throated laughter was like music to his ears. It was

provocative and sensual and whenever he heard it, he wanted

her in bed beneath him, laughing up at him, no matter what he

did to her. A tempting laugh was one of the most arousing gifts

a woman could bring to a man's bed. He could hear her

wicked laughter now. A plunge in freezing water might be just

the cure for that swel ing.

His phal us jerked. A plunge is definitely the cure for my

swel ing, but I prefer your honey pot. Her scent of roses and

almonds floated in the air about him, and he suddenly had a

wild desire to taste her. He closed his eyes and his mouth was

fil ed with the luscious juice of an apricot. He felt his bal s

tighten pleasurably, and he felt his pulse beating in his throat

and in the soles of his feet.

He had tantalized himself long enough. He knew he must

undress her and touch her al over or go mad. He wrapped his

arms around her, unfastened the back of her gown, and

watched the carnation velvet pool about her feet. Christ, he

had no idea she would be this lovely. Her breasts were

perfect, her high mons was covered by golden tendrils, and

her legs were the longest he'd ever seen. Suddenly the ache

in his groin became unbearable, and he was in agony. With a

foul curse, he flung himself from the bed and snatched up a

wine jug. He paced across the chamber floor, tipping back the

jug, trying to quel the insatiable desire her image had

aroused in him.

******************

They didn't awaken him until they had dressed, packed up

their quilted bedgowns, and folded their bedding. The three of

them broke their fast with the bread, fruit, and wine that was

left in the basket. Rosamond knew she would have to face the

insolent servants once again before she left, because there

was no way her pride would let her leave without speaking her

mind and giving them fair warning of the dire consequences

they could expect in the very near future.

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She went directly to the kitchen and was appal ed at the

conditions she found. Dirty cooking utensils from yesterday

were stacked waiting to be washed, and food had been left

uncovered to spoil and attract vermin. The cook was nowhere

in sight, but a pale young scul ery maid was trying to light the

kitchen fire. "Where is the cook?" Rosamond demanded.

"She's in bed, ma'am," the girl answered in a frightened voice.

"But it's almost nine," Rosamond protested.

"She never rises afore ten, ma'am," the girl whispered.

"What is your name?" Rosamond realized the girl was

terrified of authority, even hers.

"Edna," she murmured, wiping her hands nervously on her

dirty smock.

"Wel , Edna, this kitchen needs a thorough cleaning. Is that

your job?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Yes, ma'am. That's why I'm lightin' the fire, so I can boil the

water."

"When you knew things were left undone from last night, you

should have started earlier."

"I did, ma'am," she said faindy. "I had to gather wood from the forest, then get water from the wel ."

"You shouldn't have to get firewood or haul water, Edna, there

should be kitchen boys for that. Are you the only scul ery maid

at Pershore?"

Edna nodded warily. "I'm not complainin', please, ma'am."

"I can clearly see you are terrified of the fat bitch, but I promise you, Edna, that things are going to change around here."

Rosamond went into the larder to get food for their journey.

She wrapped up a few capon legs and a loaf of bread, and

directed Nan to bring some apples and two bottles of red

wine. As they entered the hal , the steward was descending

the stairs.

Though she feared him, she did not dare show it. "We are

leaving, Master Dymock, but let me warn you that your days of

authority here at Pershore are numbered. I intend to report you

to my cousin, the Earl of Gloucester; I have a ful catalog of

your deficiencies as steward, and your insolence to me!"

Dymock threw her such an amused, mocking glance that

Rosa-

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mond suddenly felt uneasy. What did he know that she did

not? She swept past him with the hauteur of a countess,

though inside she felt more unsure of herself than the little

scul ery maid.

When Rosamond stepped outside, the cold air in the bailey

took her breath away. The temperature had plummeted in the

night, and her heart suddenly went out to their horses, tethered

in the meadow. She pul ed her cloak more tightly about her

and said, "We'l give the poor animals those apples, Nan."

They crossed the bailey and skirted the stables, but when they

came in view of the field, their horses were nowhere in sight.

Rosamond swung round to see the stableman watching them,

his beefy arms folded in satisfaction.

"Where are our horses?" Rosamond demanded, abject fear

waging a battle with anger inside her breast.

The brute shrugged. "Stolen maybe."

For one moment, anger won out. "Stolen by you and that

swine Dymock, I warrant!" The next moment, ice-cold fear

wiped out her anger. Without horses, they were trapped here,

at the mercy of these ruthless men. They had disposed of her

and her servants' mounts, what was to stop them from

disposing of them?

"Oh, my lamb, whatever are we to do?" Nan cried.

"I'l check inside the stable, my lady." Ned set down the bags he carried and pushed past the ruddy-faced stableman,

courageously risking another black eye. When he emerged,

the droop of his shoulders told its own story.

Rosamond felt weak at the knees, but she knew they must get

away by any means possible. Though she was racked with

worry for Nimbus, she had to deal with the pressing problem

of their own safety. "We wil have to walk, we are not staying

here. We must leave the luggage and find the main road. I'm

sure I remember our passing a vil age a few miles from here."

Rosamond spoke with as much confidence as she could

muster, hoping it masked the despair that was threatening to

overwhelm her.

After they'd walked about a mile, Rosamond's heels had

blistered and her feet hurt, but at least she could stil feel them,

which was not the case with her fingers. They seemed as cold

and numb as her heart. Suddenly a horse and rider appeared

on the road some distance away.

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Rosamond feared she was hal ucinating, then seeing double,

as one horse became two. Only when Ned pointed them out

did she final y believe they were real. As the lead horse

gal oped closer, her heart fil ed with hope. Could it be Sir

Rickard de Burgh, her knight in shining armor, come to rescue

her?

As the dark horse and rider drew closer, a wave of stark terror

swept over Rosamond, snatching her breath away. She turned

and began to run, knowing instinctively they would pursue her.

Relentlessly! The rider was faceless, al she knew was that he

was dark, but it was the horse she feared most. It was huge,

black, and terrifying.

An icy shiver slithered down her spine. Her pale golden hair

tumbled wildly about her shoulders as she pul ed her skirts

high, baring long, slim legs in a desperate attempt to escape

the cruel hooves. Her lungs felt as if they would burst as she

gasped for just one more breath that would carry her to safety.

Her pulse hammered inside her eardrums, deafening her as

she turned to look over her shoulder. Rosamond's eyes

widened in horror and a scream was torn from her throat as

she saw the black forelegs rise above her, then helplessly she

tumbled beneath the murderous hooves.

Rodger de Leyburn leaned down from his saddle and swept

up Rosamond Marshal in his powerful arms. He realized that

for some reason she was fleeing in terror. He lifted off his

helm so she could recognize him, but to his dismay felt her

become limp as she lay in his arms in a dead faint. "Bones of

God, what are you doing trudging down the road like

vagabonds?"

Ned told him about their horses and the stableman at

Pershore, then Nan described in graphic detail the condition

of Rosamond's property and the vile reception she had

received at the hands of Dymock the steward. As he listened

in disbelief, his rage soared higher with every word they

uttered. Rod looked down at the woman cradled in his arms

and watched her lashes flutter, then rise.

"Sir Rodger," she whispered with relief.

His green eyes blazed with anger. "Why did you flee from me?

"

"I... I did not realize it was you. I feared your huge black

stal ion, I was terrified that it would trample me. I felt so utterly

powerless, just as I did at Pershore, where they showed me

how completely vulnerable and insignificant I am."

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Rod stared down at her. He had no idea she had a fear of

horses, no notion that she feared anything. She had always

managed to give the impression of cool courage, which he

admired. Now he admired her even more, for it was obviously

a careful y constructed facade she used for self-protection. It

came to him in a flash that she had revealed her weakness

and he now held the key that would unlock the guarded door

behind which she hid her thoughts and her emotions.

Rodger de Leyburn was a bril iant student of human nature.

His lessons had begun of necessity, while he was stil a

pageboy. It had al owed him to survive, and then thrive. He

now possessed the ability to affect, persuade, control, or even

dominate those about him without alienating them in any way.

He was such a master of manipulation that those about him

had a deep and genuine affection for him. Sir Rodger now

had a mission to make Rosamond Marshal respond to him,

and the task would be amazingly simple. Al he had to do was

make her feel as if she were the most important woman in the

world.

"Are you feeling il , Rosamond?"

"No, no, I am fine, my lord. If you wil take me back to

Kenilworth so that I can report this dire situation to my cousin

Richard of Gloucester, I wil be forever grateful."

"Griffin, take Nan up behind you. Ned, you'l have to return on

foot," Rod directed, setting the spurs to his mount.

"My lord, you are going the wrong way!" Rosamond cried in

alarm. "I need my cousin Richard."

"Why in the name of God do you need Gloucester? Pershore

is yours, not Gloucester's. I'l take care of this matter." As he rode through the gates into Pershore's bailey, he immediately

noted that no guards patrol ed the property and that the bailey

was in disorder, fil ed with flocks of fowl, unchained dogs, and