Tori Phillips (16 page)

Speechless with shock at this new turn in her fortune, Rosie could only nod in reply. Jesting and punching one another, the three young knights stumbled out into the howling wind.

Jeremy did not look at her, but he turned very red in the face. “Wh-who would have thought it?” he stammered. “I am gone,” he added as he grabbed his cape and followed after the others.

Rosie turned to Andrew. “And now what?”

Andrew gave her an irresistible grin. “Strip, my dear.”

Understanding washed over her. “But I had a bath the other day.”

He nodded. “Aye, but since then you have managed to perfume yourself like the Billingsgate fish market.” He pointed to the tub.

Not sure if Andrew was still angry at her defection,
Rosie decided not to argue with him. She quickly untied her apron, petticoat and nightshirt and let them slide off her body. Without daring to look at him, she stepped into the steaming water and sank down. The warmth felt wonderful after a long day bent over a table slitting open oyster shells.

“Wet your hair, my sweet, then lean back so that I may have the pleasure of washing your tresses,” he murmured near her ear.

She turned and saw that he now knelt behind her with his assortment of soaps and oils within reach. “But your arm,” she protested as she watched him deftly remove his doublet and roll up his right sleeve.

He flashed her a smile that sent her pulses racing. “Tis much better now that you have returned safe and sound.”

She ducked under the water for a moment, then leaned back and enjoyed his gentle touch as he worked the soap into her hair.

“Are you a-going to beat me?” she finally asked, not looking at him.

He paused. “Do you want me to?”

“Nay, but are you very angry with me?”

He poured a jug of rinse water over her. When she stopped sputtering, he asked, “Why did you run away? Have you been ill-treated?”

She wiped the last droplets out of her eyes, then turned to him. “Nay, my lord. You have been kindness itself.”

He sat back on his heels with a perplexed look on his face. “Have I ever threatened you with bodily harm?”

She shook her head. “Nay, you have been very patient with me.” She regretted her foolish action.

He narrowed his eyes. “Did someone speak unkindly in your ear?”

Rosie didn’t answer. She refused to place any blame on the men who had spent the entire day looking for her.

“Ah,” Andrew said. “I see that I have hit the mark. They blamed my little scratch on you?”

Instead of answering him, Rosie took a deep breath, held her nose and sank under the water. She stayed there as long as she could, then splashed to the surface. Andrew waited with several towels.

He wrapped her hair in one and squeezed out the water. “Youth is full of passion and fire,” he observed in a husky voice. “My young friends are like squirrels, especially my imp of a squire. They chatter a great deal, but have no thought behind their swaggering speeches. Wisdom comes with age and wrinkles such as mine. Over time, I have learned to think before acting. Tis a lesson you would do well to learn.”

Rosie looked at him through the veil of her wet hair. “You have no wrinkles that I can see, my lord.”

Her compliment ignited a warm glow of pleasure in Andrew’s chest. His advancing years often pricked his vanity and it pleased him that Rosie did not think him an old man. With a broad smile, he offered her his good hand and helped her out of the tub. He allowed himself the sinful pleasure of gazing fully upon her seductive young body and her innocent beauty. After all, he
did
own her, in a manner of speaking.

The bathwater ran down her flat stomach and over her rounded hips. The candlelight complemented the peachtinted cream of her skin. He desired to caress the moist satin of her breasts and to suckle the pink tips of her nipples. Liquid fire surged through his loins. He wrapped
her in a soft blanket. For a long moment he held her dewy body in the crook of his good arm.

“Ah, Rosie,” he murmured in her ear, “you could provoke all the deadly sins.”

She giggled. “Haint ever.” Then, like an eel, she wiggled out of his loose embrace and went over to the mirror where he had put the comb and brushes. Sitting on a stool, she worked on the tangles in her hair.

Andrew drew in a ragged breath to steady himself, then shouted, “Jeremy! Bring us our supper and remove the tub. My lady and I have a great hunger.”
For thee, dearest Rosie, if I only dare.

As if he were a mummer awaiting his cue, the squire whisked through the entrance carrying a cloth-covered tray. The youth did not look at either his master or Rosie. Andrew would have boxed the boy’s ears if he had gawked at the nearly naked girl. Zounds! The blanket clung to her body, outlining every delightful curve.

After setting the table and serving the food, Jeremy turned his attention to the tub. Andrew dismissed the squire from his mind. His thoughts centered on the fair nymph who had set him afire.

“Will you join me, Rosie?” he asked in a strangled voice.
In bed for a lifetime?
He cleared his throat. “For a bite of supper?”

Her beautiful eyes gleamed with delight. She put down her brush and took her place opposite his chair. “I’ve had nothing but oysters.”

He groaned inwardly.
She is stuffed full to the brim with the food of passion.
He cleared his throat again. “I am quite partial to oysters.”

She wrinkled her nose in the most adorable way. “Aye, but they lose their appeal if ye have nothing else to eat.”

Andrew didn’t trust his voice to answer. Instead, he cut her a large slice from the fresh-baked loaf of bread. With a cry of pleasure, she slathered it with butter and soft cheese, then consumed it greedily. He quaffed a large gulp of wine in an attempt to cool down his ardor. A mistake of the first order! His senses spun.

They ate their meal in silence, accompanied only by Jeremy’s rhythmic dipping of the bath water from the tub into buckets. Andrew had no idea what he put into his mouth. He could taste nothing but his growing desire for his supper companion. He chewed and swallowed but took no satisfaction from the food.

From the moment Guy had dumped Rosie on the rug like a sack of grain, Andrew had wanted to clasp her to his heart. The realization that he had almost lost her further inflamed his desire. He ached to bursting and he prayed that the leather lacings of his codpiece would hold. The twinkle in her eyes as she demolished a half-dozen boiled plover’s eggs, the dimple at the corner of her mouth when she bit a dark, ripe cherry, her pink tongue that darted to catch the fruit’s red juice—all enticed and beguiled him. He gripped the arm of the chair with his good hand and wished Jeremy would finish his deuced bailing.

At last the squire stood and pointed to the empty tub. Andrew fished a silver shilling out of his poke and tossed it to Jeremy. “Take the tub and yourself away, my boy, and amuse yourself in an educational manner.” The squire’s eyes widened with surprise. Andrew had been very liberal with his money. “If not educational, try profitable. In either case, do not return until after the midwatch.”

For the first time that day, Jeremy smiled. He bowed to his master, then to Rosie. Hefting the water-logged
wooden tub with a low grunt, he removed himself with appreciable speed. Andrew crossed his legs.

Rosie mopped the cherry juice from her chin, then cocked her head. “What are you looking at, my lord?” she asked with a charming half smile.

“You.”

She fidgeted with her napkin. “Don’t know why. I look like a drowned mouse.”

He shifted in his chair and leaned over his nearly untouched supper. “Nay, my sweet, my eyes are glad to see you.”

She flushed, then bowed her head in confusion. “And I to see you, my lord,” she whispered.

He cleared his throat, then reached across the table for her hand. “Rosie, would you share my bed with me this night?”

R
osie sucked in her breath. His request and the gentle caress of his fingers sent waves of excitement mixed with fear coursing through her. She had dreaded the arrival of this moment. She would give the earth to lie with Andrew and to be his lover, but she knew he didn’t mean it that way. He was claiming his bought-and-paidfor virgin. Ha! How was she to accomplish that trick so late in the game? Her precious vial of pig’s blood was long gone. She shuddered to think what he might do to her when he discovered that she had duped him.

She took a deep breath, but didn’t dare look into his handsome face. “You paid for that pleasure, my lord. Tis yours to take.”

He kissed her fingertips and licked the traces of honey from them. The warmth of his tongue sent shivers up her arms.

“Nay, Rosie, that is not what I asked you. What I paid for were your services in my great counterfeit before the king. I did not buy a maiden’s favors. I never have.” He kissed her hand again. “Rosie, look at me. Will you lie with me for the sheer pleasure of my company?”

She longed for the fulfillment he asked, but she realized that her intense feelings for him had nothing to do with their business arrangement. He had never said that he loved her. He only wanted to take his pleasure, just like all the other noblemen whom she had met over the past few days. Women were merely the means of attaining that goal.

She withdrew her hand from his. “If you wish it, my lord,” she replied in a calm voice. She must not betray how much he meant to her.

He got up and came around the table. To her shock, he dropped to one knee before her. “And what do
you
wish, sweet Rosie?” His mellow voice simmered with barely checked passion.

To be loved forever.
She whispered, “Take me gently.”

“Of course,” he replied, with a significant lifting of his dark brows. “Because you are a virgin. I had forgotten.”

Rosie wet her lips and girded herself with resolve. She owed him the truth, no matter what it cost her. “Am not.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and swirled the pad of his thumb across her lips. “Not what?”

She drew a deep breath. “I am not a virgin.” She closed her eyes and waited for him to explode.

Instead, he tapped her on the nose. When she opened her eyes, she saw that his were bright with merriment. “How now, my dear?”

She gave him a stiff little smile. “Well, mayhap I am practically one.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured in a lighthearted manner. “Prithee, how can you be almost, but not quite a virgin?”

An unwelcome heat crept into her cheeks. “Twas this past May Day. Simon Gadswell—he was the son of our squire—bought me ribbons and sweetmeats and told me how pretty I was.”

“He spoke the truth in that, sweetheart.”

“And he kissed me—several times, methinks.”

Andrew clasped her damp, clammy hands in his warm, dry ones. “I agree. I am sure twas more than once. No man in his sound wits would stop at only one kiss from your sweet lips. Go on.”

She shuddered with humiliation, then was angry with herself for being embarrassed. “Then he…um…touched me and I…that is…” She buried her burning face in the hollow of his neck. “I let him take me in our hayloft. Simon made a quick job of it.”

Andrew’s good arm encircled her and pulled her onto his knee. Gently, he rocked her back and forth. “I expect it hurt you,” he murmured.

Rosie gritted her teeth at the painful memory. “Aye, but he said he loved me for it. And I believed him, like a ninny.”

“Naturally.” Andrew’s voice rumbled from deep inside him. “He got what he wanted. And I presume he abandoned you soon after that?”

Her mind burned with the remembrance of what followed. “Aye,” she answered with a snap. “Tis why Barstow sold me to Quince. Ha! Quince thought he had gotten a virgin. He never knew the truth. Before the auction, one of the girls gave me a little vial of pig’s blood to prove my claim…but…but I lost it.” A knot of regret rose in her throat. “Forgive me, Sir Andrew, but I cannot bloody your bed. Are you very angry with me?”

He threw back his head and let out a great peal of
laughter. “Indeed not, my pretty deceiver! My sheets are made of the finest cotton from Cyprus. Quite costly—far more than I paid for a certain virgin. Do you think that I would wish to have them stained with the blood of a swine?”

Rosie couldn’t help but join in his mirth, and her tense muscles relaxed. He stood up, bringing her with him, and smiled with satisfaction. Her heart turned over in response.

“Then to the question at hand, Mistress Rosie. I humbly beg the honor to show you exactly how a real gentleman cherishes his lady. I have a wealth of experience in these matters. Trust me, sweetling.”

His affectionate teasing cheered her. For the first time she relaxed in the company of a man. They exchanged glances and a slender fragile thread of trust grew between them.

Rosie cocked her head. “Pray tell me, my lord, do your other lovers recommend your lessons?”

“I have never had a complaint in over twenty years.”

She gasped at the length of time. “By the book, you must have started in your cradle.”

His eyes shone with amusement. “Not quite
that
early.”

He slipped his good arm around her tiny waist and drew her closer to him. He whispered her name, sending shivers of delight through her. She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms around his neck. Only the pressure between their bodies kept her blanket in its place.

Andrew lowered his mouth. She felt the heady sensation of his lips against her neck. She clung to him. His lips feather-caressed her with a tantalizing promise. Her skin burned where he had touched it. Then he moved his mouth over hers, and devoured its softness. Parting
her lips, she rose to meet him and welcomed the velvet warmth of his kiss. She drank in his sweetness. When the need for air became pressing, he lifted his head.

“Will you lie with me and be my love, Rosie? I will prove to you all earthly pleasures.”

Her blood pounded in her brain, her heart soared and her knees trembled at his words. Pretending to consider his offer, she glanced at him then said playfully, “Aye, haint got nothing else better to do this night.”

Rosie’s damp blanket dropped to the rug somewhere between the supper table and his bed. Though the evening shadows had fallen, the silken chamber took on a glow with Andrew at its center. His compelling presence entranced her. She looked into his eyes and saw the heart-rending tenderness there. Excitement rippled through her and her bare skin prickled pleasurably as his gaze caressed her.

“Ah, Rosie,” he breathed her name like a prayer. He held her snugly against him.

She inhaled sharply at the contact. Desire rose in her breast.

“Do not be afraid,” he whispered. “I will not hurt you.”

She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected by his vitality that hummed under her fingertips. “Haint…I mean,
I am not
afraid.” She banished all the shadows of the past that clutched her heart.

His intoxicating scent of wood smoke and exotic oil from the East enveloped her. Dizzying currents ran through her.

His fingers skimmed down the hollow of her back. His touch was almost unbearable in its tenderness. The mere brush of his hand sent a warm tantalizing shiver
through her. His uneven breathing fanned her cheek as he held her close to his chest.

“Give me your lips, my love.”

Her soul sang in response. She lifted her face to his and rose on tiptoe to meet him. His lips touched hers like a whisper.

His first kiss was as light and honey-sweet as a summer zephyr. She quivered under its agonizing tenderness. He worshipped her lips slowly until she could stand it no longer. She laced her fingers through his thick hair and gave herself freely to his passion.

His tongue coursed over her lips as if searching for the entrance and she opened for him. When he withdrew, her mouth burned with his fire.

With infinite tenderness, Andrew eased her down to lie among his pillows. As he stood beside the bed, his gaze wandered slowly over every quivering inch of her. Rosie colored under the searing heat of his scrutiny. The prolonged anticipation of what would happen next was almost unbearable.

She reached up to him. “Do I please you, my lord?”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Aye, Rosie, so well that all my fine speeches have flown from my mind.”

He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. The candlelight etched the musculature of his chest and shoulders, giving her a new awareness of his strength. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears. She found it difficult to breath.

With a seductive smile, Andrew untied the three laces that held his golden codpiece in place. His appeal was devastating. A delicious shudder heated her body.

“Do I look too old for you, my dear?” Andrew teased.

She ached for his touch. “Nay, my lord. I perceive
no wrinkles at all.” Her heart skipped with her longing for him.

He untied his hose and peeled them over his narrow hips, then down his hard legs that were corded with muscles. When he stood before her in all his manly glory, Rosie sensed the barely controlled power that was coiled within his magnificent body. She thought she would die for the pain of wanting him.

“Will you come to bed now, my lord?”

“Aye, my love,” he replied in a low husky voice.

Rosie swallowed with difficulty as he dropped down next to her. He leaned over and kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. She purred and wriggled closer to him. He moved higher and nibbled her earlobe. Then his lips fluttered across her cheek toward her mouth in a series of slow, slivery kisses. His caresses were light, yet painfully teasing. She took his face in her hands and drew him to her.

Andrew smothered her lips with a demanding mastery. She wound her arms around his neck and held on tight. It was a kiss for her bruised soul to melt into.

When they finally parted, he cupped one of her breasts in his hand. She moaned with pleasure as he outlined the circle of its creamy mound with one slow-moving fingertip. His sensuous massage opened a floodgate of desire within her, quickening all her untried senses. The rosy peaks of her nipples grew to pebble hardness. He laughed at her delight when his lips brushed their tips.

“Do I tickle your fancy, Rosie?”

“Oh, Andrew!” was all she could gasp. Instinctively, she arched toward him.

His sleek hard body caressed hers, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. His heartbeat thudded against her own. She molded her curves to his contours. Andrew took her
hand and guided it down to the most private part of himself. He groaned when she fondled its silky smoothness.

“Hold, sweet executioner! I am not as strong as I thought I was.”

He slid his hand between her thighs and inched upward to her core. When he touched her there, waves of fire throbbed through her. She writhed under his gentle torture and gripped the pillow behind her head. Never in her most wanton dreams had she imagined this ecstasy. She peaked and exploded in a starburst of fiery sensations. As she descended, she breathed in deep souldrenching drafts of satisfaction.

Before she had time to relish the moment, Andrew touched her again, drawing her into another whirlwind of passion. She gasped as he lowered himself over her. With a whispered “aye,” she surrendered herself completely to his love.

Together they soared into golden, fire-flashed heights, then burst into bright comets and floated back to the present on feathered clouds of bliss. Andrew’s love wrapped Rosie in a silken cocoon of euphoria. Uncontrollable joy bubbled through her. She savored the deep feeling of peace that settled over her.

Andrew rolled onto his back and gathered her to him with his good arm. He breathed a long sigh of contentment. Pillowing her head on his broad shoulder, she tucked her chin next to his chest with a murmur of pleasure and drank in the comfort of his nearness. In one joyful moment he had unlocked her heart and bared her soul.

They slept for a while, then Rosie slowly awoke to find him nuzzling her neck. Her willingness shone in her eyes and on her lips. Now they took the time to explore
each other, then to arouse and finally to give to each other the full measure of their beings.

When dawn’s light filtered through the sides of Andrew’s pink palace of love, Rosie watched him waken. The glow of his smile melted her heart.

“Good morrow, Rosie. Pray, what are you looking at?”

“Your own sweet self.” She smiled in reply. “Without a feather, or a satin doublet or an outrageous codpiece in sight.”