by The Raven
“I think this mare here is breeding. The head stableman told me she was covered by Ravenspur’s stallion, but she has a history of abortion.”
Roseanna frowned as she ran her hands along the sleek belly of the only mare Ravenspur owned besides the one she had brought with her. “Get the head stableman for me, Dobbin,” she said with determination.
Dobbin left and returned in the company of a strapping young man who looked as if he could lift a horse if it were necessary.
“This is Tom. He’s in charge of Ravenspur’s stable.”
Roseanna smiled warmly. “You do a fine job with Ravenspur’s animals, Tom. It’s quite a large stable.”
He grinned. “There’s over a hundred men-at-arms to be mounted. ‘Course, most knights take a personal interest in their animal. See that it’s fed and groomed and exercised. But they know naught about doctoring a sick animal or binding up its wounds after a battle. I hear ye have a special interest in horses, my lady.”
“Yes, we bred the best in England at Castlemaine, and I see no reason why we can’t do some breeding here, Tom. Dobbin tells me this mare has a history of abortion?”
He answered her as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be discussing these matters with Ravenspur’s new bride.
“I’ve had lots of experience with that problem, Tom, and I think we’ll be able to save this one if you’ll follow my advice. It’s worth a try if she was covered by Ravenspur’s black stallion; he’s a beauty.” She looked around the stables to find a quiet box stall removed from the heavy traffic of horses. “I want her checked every week. Keep her quiet and warm and comfortable. Wash her shapes down every few days with strong soap and water. Keep her meticulously cleansed, and at least one of her feedings every day should be oatmeal gruel.”
“Does that prevent abortion?” asked Tom with deep concern.
“It certainly helps. Whenever a mare aborted, we always disinfected the stall immediately, gave the horse an enema to clean the bowels, and then rubbed it with olive oil. And of course, most important of all—always burn the fetus.”
Tom nodded sagely as these new ideas were presented to him.
“I’m going to buy Ravenspur some new mares so we can breed the Arabian.”
“They have horses something like that one over Middleham way. Some monks at an abbey breed white horses,” said Tom.
“Really?” asked Roseanna with interest. “I’d love to see them.” When she raised her head, she saw Sir Bryan saddling his horse, so she quietly excused herself and unhurriedly made her way in his direction. She must take the chance of being seen together, for at all costs she must warn him not to come to her chamber.
“Bryan, your note has distressed me,” she said low.
“My sweet, I miss your company sorely. How have I distressed you?”
“You must not come to my chamber, especially after the hour of midnight. It would cover us with guilt. If any saw you, we would be charged with adultery!” she warned.
He stiffened. “What I feel for you, my lady, is love, not lust. It is a pure love, beyond the physical, on a higher plane,” he insisted as if she had offered him grave insult.
She softened. “Oh, Bryan, I know, and that is why I love you. But we must keep it secret between us, or I shall not know a moment’s peace. If our love were known, you would be in mortal danger.”
“When Ravenspur travels to his castle at Ravenglass, I will endeavor to stay here. Then we may spend some time together.” When they saw Captain Kelly headed their way, they quickly separated.
Roseanna discovered that Mr. Burke had been looking for her.
“The master asked me to prepare dinner for the two of you and serve it in the living quarters. He said you would choose what to serve and give me my orders, Lady Roseanna.”
“How very thoughtful he is,” said Roseanna sarcastically. “Mr. Burke, tell me, is he very accomplished at cards and chess and games of chance?”
“He’s challenged you, has he?”
“He has, Mr. Burke, and I intend to beat him. I’ve diced with Castlemaine’s men-at-arms since I was live. The King himself taught me to play chess and how to be devious. So if you will tell me which game Ravenspur does not excel at, it will give me the advantage.”
He chuckled and stroked his chin. “Well, I’ve never seen any beat him at chess, but young Tristan always wins when they play backgammon.”
She gave him a conspiratorial grin and said, “Set the backgammon board up before the fireplace, and we’ll dine over there in that alcove beneath the pretty stained-glass aureole window.”
“Very good choice, my lady.” He nodded his approval. “What do you wish me to serve?”
“Let’s see. We’ll begin with smoked salmon or trout. Then I suppose we should have some sort of game bird because they are so plentiful now, but I hate grouse, and pheasant flesh sometimes has a strong taste.”
“May I suggest partridge, my lady? There’s nothing as sweet as a plump partridge.”
“Perfect, Mr. Burke.” She nodded her agreement. “Serve Ravenspur whatever wine he prefers, but I’d like mead, please.”
“I’m pleased that you like the mead, my lady. ’Tis made with honey and gets its distinctive flavor from the heather. When we go back south to Ravenspur, I shall take some barrels of mead along for your enjoyment.”
“Thank you, Mr. Burke. Tell me, what was Ravenspur’s second wife like?” she asked disarmingly.
He looked taken off his guard for once; he measured his response carefully before giving it. “Well, I would say she was a man’s woman, if you know what I mean.”
Roseanna felt annoyed and her voice rose slightly. “No, I don’t know, Mr. Burke. Whatever is a man’s woman?” She almost felt jealous; what was the matter with her?
He looked most uncomfortable. “It’s hard for me to explain, my lady. It’s almost nine years since she died. What do you wish to know about her?”
“Was she beautiful?” she asked bluntly.
“Very beautiful, in a voluptuous sort of way.”
Roseanna bristled. “How long were they married?”
“Ah, not long, not long at all. She died while still a bride, technically. Within two years, I mean.”
“I see,” she said. “I understand he was married for the first time at fifteen?”
“Yes, that is so, to a lady who was older than himself. That first marriage could not be called a love match, though they were wed over five years.”
“That means his second marriage was a love match?” she queried.
Mr. Burke coughed to clear his throat and wished he were not being put on the spot. “He was certainly in love when he first met the lady. He was widowed at twenty and rushed headlong into a second marriage before his twenty-first birthday, disregarding a decent mourning period.”
“Thank you, Mr. Burke. I know you feel you are breaching his confidence, but I have no one else to ask.” She had a hundred questions about the “voluptuous” bride Ravenspur had loved so madly, but she bit her tongue. She would save them for another time, after she and Mr. Burke had become more comfortable with each other. “Mr. Burke, would you be good enough to have hot water sent to my chamber? I must bathe the traces of the stables from myself before I dine with Ravenspur.”
Suddenly it was very important to her that she look beautiful tonight. She wished herself to be the loveliest woman he had ever dined with in his life. She would choose something revealing that his maleness would respond to and that would keep his mind from the game.
She stepped from the tub and allowed Kate to wrap her in a thick towel. She opened her wardrobe with Alice at her elbow and began to search through the great number of gowns. She stopped when she came to the red velvet that she had worn so long ago for King Edward’s visit. Her mind flew back to that night and to the influence it had had on her life.
“Oh, you can’t wear that red velvet tunic without the underdress again!” pleaded Alice in a frightened voice.
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Roseanna gave her an amused look over her shoulder. “As if I would do such a thing. No, tonight I’m going to do it the other way around. I’m going to wear the diaphanous white underdress without the tunic.”
Alice gasped. “But Lady Roseanna, it’s so sheer you can see through it!”
“Yes,” mused Roseanna with relish. “I know.” She opened one of her coffers and selected a white shift delicately embroidered with silver thread, then donned the sheer underdress and stood before her mirror to gauge its effect. She lifted her arms high; the long filmy sleeves floated down until they touched the delicate folds of the skirt. If she stared very hard, she could just discern the deep rose-pink aureoles that circled her nipples. Kate stood behind her with pursed lips. “Kate, stop disapproving and fetch my jewel coffer.”
Kate Kendall handed her mistress the heavy leather coffer that held the lovely jewelry her mother had designed for her.
“When Ravenspur came to your chamber last night, I sent him away on the thin excuse of your spinning head. If you dine with him dressed so, I doubt that even I will be able to fob him off tonight.”
“Did he really come last night?” asked Roseanna, inordinately pleased with herself. “Thank you, Kate. You saved me, and you will do exactly the same tonight or I shall banish you back to Castlemaine!” Roseanna teased. “Alice, I want you to brush all my hair to one side, like so. Let some of it fall down my back and some fall down my front so that it almost but not quite covers my left cheek and shadows my eye. Brush the other side up and back completely so that my neck and ear are bared, and then put this lovely sapphire moon-and-stars clasp just to the side of my temple.”
Kate scrutinized her as Alice brushed her hair. “Ravenspur will be able to see clear through to your tit-ties!”
Roseanna blushed. “I don’t care.”
Kate shook her head. “I’ll have to get you some hemlock to put in his wine.”
“Good God, I don’t want to kill him!” said Roseanna, shocked.
Kate was disgusted. “Brainless child. It’s good against your husband’s lechery—in small amounts, of course.”
“A poisonous tongue is a better weapon than a poisonous cup of wine,” said Roseanna firmly. “I must go down, for I don’t wish to arrive late. He must find no fault with my behavior this evening.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “That will last ten minutes, and that’s stretching it. Roseanna’s best behavior, forsooth!” she hooted.
Serenely Roseanna floated from the room and went down to the castle’s private living quarters. Mr. Burke had set up a lovely table for two in the alcove and was just placing the goblets for the wine. Roseanna nodded to him politely but stayed across the room in case his sharp eyes saw through the material of her bodice.
One wall was covered by a large tapestry that must have taken years to complete. The workmanship was so fine, it actually looked like a painting. It showed some sort of banquet in which a man and woman were being served by many and were even being entertained by musicians. Ravenspur’s voice, close behind her, momentarily startled her, but she did not jump.
“It is a banquet of the gods. The eagle and peacock mark the presence of Zeus, king of the gods, and his consort, Hera. The god Pan provides music, as does Apollo with his lyre. Ganymede is serving them nectar, and the bow, arrows, and wings denote the presence of Eros, god of love.”
“I did not know you were a student of the classics.” As she turned to face him, his dark eyes lingered a moment on her mouth, then lowered to her breasts, which thrust boldly above the neckline of the filmy underdress. “I am not a serious student, but I have a fondness for beauty,” he said as he lifted his eyes to hers. “Thank you for joining me, Roseanna,” he murmured.
She raised a delicate brow. “I wasn’t aware that I had a choice.”
A slight frown creased his brow. “You will always have a choice. You think me some monster who must be obeyed?”
“You forced me to wed you against my will. Where was my choice then, my lord?” Her eyes blazed their challenge. Her best behavior had lasted nowhere close to ten minutes.
“A fate worse than death,” he murmured with a humorous glint in his eyes. He was determined that she would provoke no arguments tonight. He was dressed in a black padded doublet that emphasized his unbelievably wide shoulders. The only touch of color was a ruby in his ear. In their black and white they looked like bride and bridegroom. He bowed before her, took her hand, and led her to the table. He held her chair for her. His hands ached to caress her shoulders, but he restrained the impulse and took the chair opposite her. “Let us enjoy Burke’s supper without being at each other’s throats, my love.”
“I quite like Mr. Burke. He’s been with you for many years and must know where all your skeletons are buried.”
He ignored the barb. “Yes, he came from our estate in Ireland over twenty years ago.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You have a castle in Ireland?”
“Not exactly a castle. An estate of about fifty acres with a lovely manor house,” he told her as he poured mead into her goblet.
“They say Ireland is ideal for breeding horses. Whereabout in Ireland is your land?” she asked with quick interest.
The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement as he saw the speculation in her eyes. “It’s not far from Ravenglass Castle, on the west coast. It’s just a short run across the Irish Sea to the Isle of Man, and then another short sail to Drogheda.”
“Do you have ships?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied smoothly. “Do you enjoy sailing?”
“I’ve never been aboard a ship, but the thought of sailing across the sea is thrilling.”
He smiled as he raised his goblet to her. “There are many thrilling things you haven’t yet tried.”
She looked him directly in the eye and answered boldly, “Perhaps I have tried more things than you give me credit for, Ravenspur.”
He smiled at her. “You avoid my given name like the plague, Roseanna. Are you afraid to call me Roger?”
“Me? Afraid? Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, tossing her head. Her hair flew back over her shoulder, then fell to the carpet in a silken, rippling, dark waterfall. He vowed that he would wrap himself in that hair before long. It was the most sensuous hair he’d ever beheld, and he longed to play with it.
Mr. Burke removed the first course and returned with two heavy silver tureens. When the covers were removed, a delicious aroma arose with the steam from the partridges. One dish held four roasted birds; the other held partridges cooked in wine with mushrooms and chestnuts. There was a panache of fresh greens to go with the game, but no other vegetables. The meal was simple yet elegant. They ate at a leisurely pace, yet each was filled with anticipation for the backgammon game that lay ahead. The air was charged with a subtle tension, for each was eager to challenge the other and emerge victorious. They were so alike in temperament that neither even considered the possibility of losing.
Roger threw scraps to the wolfhound, who had roused himself from before the fire to investigate the delicious smells coming from the table. Roseanna reached for a ripe pear at the same moment as Roger, and their hands touched for an instant. It was as if a flame ran up her arm from his touch. She couldn’t keep a blush from staining her cheeks and was relieved when Mr. Burke created a diversion by bringing them rosewater bowls and towels to wash their hands. Roger nodded imperceptibly to Mr. Burke that he wished no further intrusions into the room; then he filled their goblets and took them over to the games table beside the fire.
Roger drew in his breath as Roseanna passed in front of the fire. Her body was clearly silhouetted through the filmy underdress. Again Roger held her chair, but this time as her hair brushed his hands, he stroked it. It crackled beneath his fingers.
“Beware, I give off sparks,” she laughed tauntingly.
The black stones on the backgammon table were carved from ebony, and the whites from ivory. He waved his hand that she should
make the first throw. She picked up the two dice and rolled them onto the board. She had rolled a double of four and four, so she moved four stones four points each. She played intently and was determined to get all fifteen stones into her inner table before Ravenspur managed to do the same with his stones. He was playing negligently, allowing his attention to focus on her, so she wasn’t worried about losing. “You were so eager to begin. What stakes are we playing for?” he drawled.
“Money, of course,” she said, laughing.
He smiled. “What do you need money for?”
“Horses. I’m going to buy some decent mares to breed.”
“Then money it shall be. Five hundred pounds.” He watched her carefully, then asked casually, “Do you have five hundred pounds?”
“Of course not,” she said.
“Then how will you repay me?” he asked pleasantly.
“I’m going to win, not lose!” she pointed out.
“I see,” he said calmly, not seeing her logic at all.
With each throw of the dice, she made her point. She combined moving with bearing off, and in a short time she was elated because she’d won.
“I am playing at a disadvantage, Roseanna.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “How so?”
“Your beauty distracts me,” he murmured.
“What a poor excuse. You must concentrate. What shall we play for next?” she asked.
He considered a moment, then suggested, “Jewels? My ruby earring against your sapphire hair ornament.”
His lean brown fingers unfastened the earring, and he placed it before her on the board. She reached up for her moon and stars, and when she removed it, her hair tumbled down where it had been held back. He smiled into her eyes. “I suggested your sapphires only so that when you removed the clasp I would have the pleasure of seeing your hair fall around you in all its glory.”
“Ravenspur,” she said, beginning to feel a little uneasy, “pay attention to the game.” She picked up the two dice to roll.