by The Raven
Roseanna surveyed herself with dismay. Never in her life had she been dressed in such a plain, modest, unbecoming garment! She pulled off the headcovering as the servingwomen looked on with pursed lips. Briskly she braided and looped her long dark hair and bound it back in a style every bit as plain as the gown. She had been utterly determined not to wear the cloak he had given her, but the thought of facing ten knights dressed as she was made her change her mind. She wrapped the cloak around herself and lifted its great length from about her ankles so that she would not trip. Emerging from the hunting lodge, she walked with her head held high past the ten mounted knights who would act as her escort. Ravenspur led out two horses, his eyes glinting with amusement. “If you are afraid of horses, my lady, I will take you up before me.”
“Afraid?” she choked, and words failed her. He had offered her the final insult! She mounted with the sleek, supple movements of a panther, wheeled the animal about, and took off at such a reckless speed that the men had difficulty keeping up. Roger enjoyed himself. Everything about her delighted him.
It soon dawned on Roseanna that she did not know the way home, so she had to swallow her pride and allow Ravenspur to take the lead. They did not exchange one word or one look on that long ride home, yet no man or woman had ever been more acutely aware of each other. Her thoughts were wild and disordered. He was a barbarian, a devil! She had conceived an instant disgust for the man. He was too arrogant, too virile, too—male!
She shuddered at the narrow escape she had had, not only from this morning, but from a lifetime tied to him by a Gordian knot. Sensations teemed through her body —indignation, smoldering anger, and relief, as well as strange blossoming sensations that darted through her body in the most extraordinary fashion. Imagine! Marriage with Ravenspur would submerge a woman’s very soul, so dominant would he be. Her spirit would be vanquished. Whenever he willed it, she would be in the bondage of his arms! He was obviously a much-practiced womanizer, used to having his way. Well, she was the exception to the rule. She was one woman who would never give him the chance to have his way. Although some women might find him attractive, she did not!
Roger’s thoughts chased each other about, preventing him from thinking logically. He was cynical enough to suspect a trick and angry that she and his brother had tried to use him, but he was also deeply relieved that he had not ravaged her. Although he was outraged that she was running around the countryside unchaperoned, he was nevertheless bemused by her saucy allure. All in all she was a magnificent, though unusual, piece of baggage!
When they came in sight of Castlemaine, they were met by a posse consisting of her father and his men-at-arms. Neville looked haggard.
“Thank God you are safe. I’ve had men out all night.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” Roseanna said. “I went to Belvoir to see Baron Ravenspur. I should have told you where I was going.” She seethed as Neville thanked Roger for returning his daughter safely. She wanted to scream aloud that he had bedded her so that her father would draw his sword and run the bastard through. But she clamped her teeth down hard on her tongue to ward off the specter of marriage.
Neville thought of Joanna. She would be annoyed to be caught unprepared for a visit from Ravenspur. Neville knew what high hopes she had for this union, and he also knew how slender was the thread that bound the great baron to Roseanna. “Allow me to offer the hospitality of Castlemaine to you and your men, my lord.”
Roger held up his hand. “I will not stay. Today I merely act as escort. But I shall accept your hospitality and return at the end of the week to discuss the betrothal”
Neville nodded his head. As usual, Roseanna had taken matters into her own hands. There would be no peace for him at Castlemaine tonight. Joanna would run mad when she learned what Roseanna had been up to.
In Castlemaine’s hall, Joanna was taken completely off guard when Roseanna flew past her to her turret room and she found herself curtsying low to Roger Montford. They had known each other years ago; Roger and King Edward had been companions since they were twelve and had trained together under Warwick. Joanna’s thoughts flew back to those days. How they had swaggered in their scarlet livery with its golden bear and ragged staff! Warwick trained his men to be a breed apart. They knew at least half a dozen more ways of killing a man in close combat than any other fighting men did. Warwick instilled in them the confidence that grew with the development of their own capabilities. With his motto, “Seulement Un,” he taught men absolute reliance upon themselves.
Roger’s stance before her now was wary but regal. He looked like a conqueror—darkly primitive and savage— and he was as proud as Lucifer. No wonder the women run after him, she thought with awe. She firmly smothered her own physical response to him because she knew she was playing for high stakes. She wanted him for her daughter. “Welcome, my lord. We are honored by your visit.”
“Perhaps you will not think me welcome when I have had my say.” He fixed her with his dark eyes. “I am shocked at the amount of freedom Lady Roseanna is allowed. While our betrothal stands, I wish a closer guard of her person. I shall return at week’s end to discuss dissolving it.”
Joanna looked affronted. “On what possible grounds could you dissolve it, my lord?”
“Many! For one thing, is she still a maid? At seventeen most girls are not.” He looked her directly in the eyes, and she knew he was referring to the fact that she had not been a virgin at seventeen. Beneath his knowing gaze, she swallowed the scathing retort that jumped to her lips. He continued. “And quite apart from my feelings in the matter, Lady Roseanna herself wishes it dissolved. It is the reason she sought me out.”
Joanna’s mouth fell open.
Ravenspur bowed low, turned on his heel, and departed. The ring of his golden spurs upon the stone steps shattered the hush that had fallen. The moment he stepped out through the portal, Joanna gave vent to a high rage.
Neville cautioned, “Don’t go to her now. Allow your temper to cool, I beg you, Joanna.” She swept past him, but he noted with relief that she went in the direction of her work studio. He sighed heavily. He must get word of Roseanna’s return to Jeffrey, who had taken out another search party.
Roseanna sat in a soft ivory underdress as Alice brushed the tangles from her long hair. Joanna burst into the chamber without ceremony, with Kate Kendall at her heels.
“Mother, before you say anything, let me explain a few things,” began Roseanna.
“No, let me explain a few things. I am replacing Alice with Kate Kendall. Since you need a keeper, I’ve chosen one you won’t be able to twist around your little finger. You will wear this, and Kate will have charge of the key.”
Roseanna looked with disbelief at the object her mother held out to her. “A maidenbelt? Mother, you cannot be serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Ravenspur questioned your virginity!”
“He what?” hissed Roseanna as white-hot hatred seared through her. “That whoremaster dared question my virginity? In the name of Christ, what has it to do with him?”
“ Tis his way of slipping out of the betrothal. An excuse you’ve handed him on a golden platter by running about the countryside like a wild thing!”
“He needs no excuse. I demand that the betrothal be dissolved!”
“You, little madame, will stop demanding and start obeying. You will wear this maidenbelt to ensure your purity. You cannot deny you have been making calf’s eyes at Sir Bryan.”
“Why would I deny it?” she cried. “I am in love with him. I want to marry him!”
“My God, you are afflicted with temporary insanity. Let’s hope it runs its course by the time Ravenspur returns. At which time I will do my utmost to mend this breach.”
“It can never be mended!” cried Roseanna passionately. “We already detest each other!”
“There is a very fine line between love and hate. As long as he is not indifferent to you, all can yet be saved. Put that on.”
> “I will not!” hissed Roseanna.
“Kendall, take her legs,” directed Joanna. Although Roseanna kicked and scratched and swore and cried, in the end she was locked into the maidenbelt.
“Cry all you want. Roseanna, as your mother, I must take this action to protect you from your own foolishness. Damn it, do you think you invented infatuation? It has followed the same pattern for centuries. When a young boy and girl become infatuated, they hold hands and sigh. Then they kiss, and next comes a French kiss. If you return that kiss, you are saying, ‘I like it—carry on.’ You give him permission to develop twelve pairs of hands, which he will instantly use to undress you and take possession of your body.”
Roseanna was white-lipped with shock. “You are the slut, Mother, not I! Leave my chamber! I will never forgive you,” she whispered.
“I think you’d best dine up here tonight. You are not fit company for the hall,” declared Joanna.
“I will not leave this chamber until this thing is removed from my body. I will not eat one mouthful of food until this thing is removed from my body. I will not speak ever again until this thing is removed from my body!”
Her mother ignored her and pushed the two servants ahead of her out of the room. The moment the door was closed, Roseanna turned the key in the lock with an ominous click, and heavy silence enfolded her.
Roseanna lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling, but her mind was busy with a hundred little details. Her mother had designed this ridiculous maidenbelt in her workshop. It was made of two heavy silver chains that went around the waist and a flat piece of silver mesh, very like chain mail, that went between her legs. It had a small lock at the waist. She suddenly remembered a small lock and key that her mother had given her to secure her jewel casket. When she tried the key on the maidenbelt and it unlocked the contraption, she sighed with great relief.
Next she gathered together a store of food. She had a bowl of apples; in one of her coffers she found a bag of walnuts and hazelnuts; and on her bedside table she had a large box of sweetmeats made from marzipan. She also had a jug of water, and a flask of wine; she could go for two or three days at least. She would make them all sorry!
Her eyes fell on the cloak Ravenspur had given her. She snatched it up with the intention of rending it to shreds, but with the first tear came a subtle scent. She rubbed the cloth between her fingers reflectively and lifted it to her nose, wondering what its fragrance was. She picked up a little volume that always gave her pleasure on the language of flowers. Balsam was for impatience. As she read it, she could smell the balsam. She smiled as she read that broom was for neatness; how apt. The white lily stood for purity. Her mind wandered briefly to the maidenbelt. Dead leaves represented sadness, which was sensible when you thought about it. Jasmine … jasmine! That’s what his cloak smelled of. Quickly she ran her finger across the page to see what it meant. Sensuality! She shut the book with a little snap. She visualized his dark eyes and the thick black lashes and brows that intensified his gaze. She closed her eyes to dispel the image, but it only became sharper. His jaw was so aggressive, his mouth so frankly sensual, that she blushed at the memory. His naked body rose up before her, so real that she could almost reach out and touch him. Lord, why ever was she having such wicked thoughts? She could see him and smell him—aye, she could even taste his kiss upon her mouth. His rich, dark laughter came back to her, making her spine tingle; the very danger of the man filled the room, so tangible was her memory of him. Again she tasted his blood on her lips when she had bitten him, and she shivered with excitement. Damn Ravenspur to hell, she thought savagely. He was the root of all her misery!
When Kate Kendall knocked on the door, she ignored it. The woman called through it, “I’ve brought your supper.” Roseanna didn’t respond. “Don’t be a silly lass. Ye must eat.” Again receiving no response, the sensible north-country woman decided to leave the tray outside the door. No doubt as soon as she left, Roseanna would eat.
Her face was grim two hours later when she returned to find the tray untouched. She bent close to the door and called, “Roseanna!” There was no response. She put her ear to the door and listened for a few minutes, but there was only silence. She did not report this to Lady Joanna. No doubt by the time breakfast arrived Roseanna would be ravenous.
Very early the next morning, Roseanna’s attention was caught by a piercing whistle from outside. She went to the window and saw her brother Jeffrey below, accompanied by Sir Bryan. Quickly she picked up a piece of paper and wrote,
Please don’t worry about me. Ravenspur will give us no trouble. We hated each other on sight! I’ve locked myself in because of a disagreement with my mother. I beg you not to worry about me. Roseanna.
She folded the note tightly, wrote “Sir Bryan” on the outside, and threw it from the high turret down to the young men below. Jeffrey stooped to retrieve it and handed it to Sir Bryan. Then he winked at her and waved his hand in approval.
When Kate Kendall found Roseanna’s breakfast tray undisturbed outside her chamber door where she had left it, she knew she must inform Lady Joanna. But Joanna was still annoyed at her daughter’s behavior the day before; this only fanned the flames of her grievance. She came to the turret and rattled the doorknob, ordering, “Open this door at once!” There was no reply. “Roseanna, I have had enough theatrics! Open the door.” Still Roseanna didn’t respond. “Very well, madame, two can play this game! Kate, you are not to bring any more food up here today. By tomorrow there will undoubtedly be an improvement in her appetite.”
Joanna did not discuss her daughter’s behavior with her husband. He had a knack for making her feel as if she were in the wrong, and in this instance she knew she was not. She had plenty to keep her busy. Ravenspur would return the day after tomorrow, and everything must be perfect for his visit. She had the maids clean and plenish the best bedchamber, overlooking no detail. Even the candles were scented with pine, and the bed linen was embroidered with the initial R.
The next day when Joanna ascended to the turret, she was ready to make some concessions if Roseanna was. “Roseanna, open the door, and we will discuss our differences like civilized human beings.” Roseanna kept silent. “Kate Kendall is here with the key to the chastity belt,” she tempted. Silence. Her anger rose again. If there was one thing this mother and daughter shared, it was stubborn pride. “If you are willing to harm yourself by starving just to punish me, then so be it!” she said with suppressed fury. As Joanna walked away, Roseanna pressed her ear to the door and heard her mother say to Kendall, “What am I to do? Ravenspur comes tomorrow!”
Roseanna smiled. She had been on the verge of opening the door, for she was truly longing for a substantial meal. But now she realized that if she held out until tomorrow, the showdown would be postponed until Ravenspur arrived.
* * *
Roger dressed with great care for his visit to Castlemaine. He rejected the clothes he wore at Court; they were too flamboyant for his taste. The tight silk hose had to be lined with heavy satin, which molded and exaggerated his manhood to the point of indecency. The doublets that were being worn were shorter and shorter to display to advantage everything a man possessed. He passed over these peacock-colored garments and chose sober black hose and boots and a wide-shouldered wine velvet doublet. His fine lawn shirt boasted lace at the neck and cuffs, but then, he would have been hard pressed to find a plain shirt in his entire wardrobe. He wore a large ruby on one hand and a heavy gold seal ring with a cruel-looking spurred raven on the other.
Ever since he’d returned her to Castlemaine, Roseanna had been with him constantly, almost as if she were haunting him, he thought grimly. The images his mind conjured of her were so vivid, he could almost reach out and touch her cream velvet skin, and when he was abed, he could swear he actually felt her long tresses trailing across his nakedness to inflame his desires. He should have made love to her while he had her in his bed and gotten her out of his system! Then he blanched at the thought of bein
g charged with rape. Again.
He had forced himself to relive the nightmare of his first two marriages so that he would run like a scalded cock from even the hint of a third wife.
Now, fortified with the company of ten knights, he rode forth to Castlemaine, secure in the knowledge that by this time tomorrow he would be free of her.
Sir Neville met his visitors at the stables, where Ravenspur and his men were attending their own horses. A knight worthy of the name usually did this rather than leave it to others, since so many times his life depended upon his mount. Neville, noting that Ravenspur’s black stallion was almost identical to Zeus, showed off the animal to his guest. Roger was so impressed with the sleek, wild creature that he offered to buy it.
Neville shook his head and laughed. “Nay, my lord, he is my daughter’s favorite. However, I’m sure we have other animals here that meet your high standards. My daughter is an expert when it comes to horse breeding.”
Although keenly interested in learning of Roseanna’s expertise with horses, Ravenspur was nevertheless alarmed. “You don’t allow her to ride this wild animal?”
“My lord, I cannot stop her,” said Neville mildly.
Ravenspur’s dark eyes searched the other man’s face. Then he said quietly, “I see.”
“Lady Joanna eagerly awaits you in the hall. I’m sure she is better prepared for your visit today. I’ll show your men to their quarters.”
“Thank you, Castlemaine. I’ll visit your stables again before I leave.”
Joanna greeted Roger effusively. She was regally gowned in a deep royal blue tunic and underdress that attractively showed off her blue-black hair. She wore a jeweled posy cap, but no veil was in sight. Like Roseanna, she was inordinately proud of her hair and covered as little of it as possible.