by The Raven
Roger reached for his clean garments that had been laid ready for him and was dressed before Mr. Burke returned.
“Apparently, my lord, Lady Roseanna is not here. Her foolish women don’t know where she went off to.”
Roger frowned. “I’ll speak to them.” He moved swiftly along the corridor that led to Roseanna’s chambers. Kate and Alice curtseyed as he came upon them. “Where is she?” he demanded.
Kate Kendall explained, “She told Alice she was going out with Jeffrey and would return in time for dinner.” Alice visibly trembled as Ravenspur’s dark eyes swept over her.
“Her brother was here?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord. He’s been here all week.”
“Do you actually mean to tell me you don’t know her whereabouts?” he demanded angrily.
Alice drew in her breath on a sob, but Kate Kendall straightened her backbone and stood up to Ravenspur. “My lord, Roseanna is not one to keep in leading strings. She is her own woman, as you more than any other should know.”
He cursed under his breath. Had he not dreamed that she would be gone when he returned? He looked at Mr. Burke. “Find out if Sir Bryan is with her,” he ordered. Roger looked at the two women coldly. “What’s been going on while I’ve been away?” he asked silkily.
“Nothing, my lord. Lady Roseanna spent the time entertaining her brother.”
“And entertaining her brother’s intimate friend. How very cozy for the three of them! How strange and convenient that he should show up the moment my back is turned!”
Kate pressed her lips together. She was not going to dignify the unspeakable things he was insinuating with a response.
Actually, Roger was concerned for Roseanna’s safety more than her virtue. If it were known she was the daughter of the King, she could and probably would be used as a pawn in the deadly game of power. He strode from the chamber and made his way to the ground floor of the castle, where his knights were housed. Mr. Burke confirmed that Sir Bryan was missing.
“Send Tristan to me,” said Roger shortly. He began to search the small chamber. He saw the signaling lantern and surmised that Sir Bryan had signaled to Roseanna’s brother the moment they had left for the coast. He carefully searched his belongings, then went through the pockets of his clothing. When Tristan came in looking weary, Roger handed him a scrap of paper that said, “The prisoner is to be taken to Middleham.”
“Roseanna’s missing. This is all I have to go on,” he said shortly.
Tristan read the note. “No name, no date.” He knew Roger would not wait for morning, so he covered his weariness and asked simply, “How many men do you want?”
“Twenty, for now. Tell them to take fresh horses.”
Ravenspur was slightly astonished that the drawbridge at Middleham Castle was lowered as soon as the small troop of horses came in sight of the castle. Did they expect him? Was this a trap? Then, just as swiftly, he realized that they could not be recognized in the dark and had been mistaken for others. He gave signals to Tristan and Kelly, and the moment they were inside the walls, they dismounted and had their knives at the guards’ throats.
“Who were you expecting?” demanded Ravenspur, letting the point of his knife slip in quarter of an inch.
“Only the night patrol,” gasped the terrified guard.
Ravenspur eased the knife away from the man’s throat and asked himself why Middleham needed a night patrol. The guard sighed his relief too soon, for Roger pressed the blade close again and demanded, “Was a woman brought in here today?”
“No. There’s been no women brought here. I swear it!”
It was apparent that the guard knew nothing; Roger decided to change his tactics. He sheathed his dagger and signaled to Tristan to follow suit. “Sorry for the rude greeting. It was merely a test.”
“Warwick’s idea, no doubt,” the guard said grimly, wiping the trickle of blood from his neck.
“Just so,” agreed Roger with a wolf’s grin. “We will take advantage of Middleham’s hospitality tonight and be gone at dawn,” he announced as if this had been his plan from the beginning. He would scour this building from dungeon to turret and learn for himself if Roseanna was a prisoner here.
As the men stabled their horses, Roger noted that the stables had been freshly cleaned. But the huge piles of horse dung outside the buildings indicated that the castle had been full to overflowing—and recently, by the looks of things. Roger was fully alerted. He had been scurrying from coast to coast while the plotters had been holed up at Middleham under his very nose.
A thorough inspection of the stronghold revealed only a normal number of soldiers garrisoning the place and the usual number of servingmen and women necessary to run a castle. The castellan, as he was assigning them beds for the night, shook his head and remarked, “Never expected you to throw in with Warwick again, my lord.”
Roger tried to fish for information. He shrugged. “There’s safety in numbers. So many earls of the realm are involved—why not a mere Baron?”
The castellan grinned but named no names. He didn’t have to; Roger could smell treason when it was this close. After his men had settled for the night, Roger slipped away to search the castle again. He was relieved to find no trace of Roseanna, yet he was baffled by her disappearance. God willing she was home safe by now. She was a willful woman who did and went as she pleased. He realized he had better learn to put up with her whims if he loved her.
Tomorrow he would effectively remove any who threatened her safety, and that included her own brother, whether she liked it or not.
Brother Ben brought Roseanna to a cell-like room that was austerely furnished with a bed and a washstand with jug and bowl. It was immaculately clean, with hand-loomed linen on the bed. The whitewashed walls were adorned with only a crucifix. One window, too high for Roseanna to look from, let in what was left of the fading light.
When the bell rang to call the monks to vespers, Brother Ben brought her a tray with freshly baked bread, a generous supply of churned butter, and the flaky cheese of Jervaulx. Then he brought Sir Bryan to her small chamber. An earthenware jug of October ale completed the meal, “Your brother’s room is next door,” Brother Ben said quietly as he withdrew.
Roseanna said, “I’m sorry we have to stay overnight, but the horses are grazing on Middleham High Moor, and I couldn’t very well demand they go and round them up instantly. I hope Jeffrey doesn’t make a fuss.”
Sir Bryan walked over to her and said quietly, “Roseanna, Jeffrey did not return with me.”
She looked at him blankly. “Where is he?” she demanded.
“At Middleham he met up with Northumberland, and I think they rode south together,” he said evasively.
“The wretched boy! He took offense because I wanted to do my own horse trading rather than let him do it for me!” she said hotly.
“Nay, love. I think rather he did it for us, so we could be alone.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Very gently, he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him; then he slowly lowered his head and kissed her. She returned his kiss.
When it ended and they drew slightly apart, she gazed up at him in wonder. Where were her pink blushes? Her fluttering heartbeat? She felt no response to this golden boy who had once held her in such thrall that she had dreamed away whole days sighing over his verses. Then she realized she had put her finger on it exactly. He was a boy! She had known a man since her infatuation, and she was no longer a girl. She was a full-blooded woman who had a deep need for a man, not a boy. She realized that if Bryan had loved her well enough, he would never have allowed her to go to another man. All efforts to escape Ravenspur had come from her, not from Sir Bryan.
A secret smile touched her mouth as she thought of Ravenspur. Bryan, thinking that look of love was for him, pulled her to the bed. His hot mouth pressed into the valley of her breasts in the deep Y of her shirt; his hands, too, came up to caress the heavy round globes. Once, not long before, she wou
ld have been out of her depth in a situation like this, but now the boy before her presented no great problem. She wished to be gentle and not hurt him, so she took his hands from her breasts and stood up. “Bryan, this is a holy place.” Her eyes raised pointedly to the crucifix on the wall, and she saw him flush with discomfort for his actions. She squeezed his hand in a gesture of comfort and promised low, “We’ll speak tomorrow. Good night, Bryan.” He left without protest, effectively banished from her chamber.
At first light she found herself on horseback between two similarly mounted monks, flying across Middleham High Moor, a huge sloping oval of green. Its turf was reputed to be the springiest in all of England. The moor was a world of its own, filled with lark song and lapwing cries. As she lifted her eyes, she saw the high walls of the round tower of Middleham Castle and beyond the Penine chain of mountains, the backbone of England that linked all the moors, valleys, and rivers. It was easy to imagine herself the first rider to leave hoofprints on this wild, deserted expanse.
She watched, enthralled, as the monks rounded up the white mares. They slipped a rope bridle onto each until they had a string of half a dozen. Then they returned to the abbey, where Roseanna was hard pressed to choose the best. They were all beautiful, so she examined their teeth to determine their age and finally picked two that were of an age to be bred.
She had expected to pay two hundred fifty pounds apiece for them, but when she was given a price of one hundred fifty, she quickly picked out a third mare and counted out four hundred fifty pounds from her saddlebag. To her delight she had fifty pounds left over.
Sir Bryan was in the abbey stables saddling his horse when she found him. She greeted him gaily, “I’ve acquired three of the loveliest creatures you have ever laid eyes on. Come and see!”
Roger and his men had left Middleham at dawn. He and Tristan had discussed nothing inside the walls of Middleham, but when they departed, Roger said, “There has clearly been a great gathering of men back there recently. It stinks to high heaven of treason. I want you to ride to Edward at York and warn him. If he’s gone back to Westminster, he’ll escape their plotting and will be safe. But if he’s still in the North, you must warn him to leave immediately. He has too many enemies up here. There’s Northumberland, Stanley, and Percy—all thick as thieves with Warwick—and then there are neutrals like Somerset and even our own overlord, the Earl of Lincoln. If it comes to the crunch, the devil only knows on which side they’ll jump. We’ll ride east to the Great North Road; then you can turn south. Take half a dozen men with you in case you are ambushed.” Roger rode back to Ravensworth praying to God that Roseanna was safe at home.
Two hours later Roseanna rode into the courtyard at Ravensworth. Zeus was in the lead, the mares were strung out behind him, and Sir Bryan was in the rear. To her surprise she was met by Ravenspur in a towering temper.
“Where in hell have you been?” he demanded.
Stung to be so addressed in front of his men, she immediately took the offensive. “How dare you question my whereabouts?”
“I dare, madame, because I am your husband, a thing you seem to have conveniently forgotten!” he said pointedly as his dark eyes raked over Sir Bryan.
She said quickly, “My brother Jeffrey took me to buy mares from the Abbey of Jervaulx.”
“Your brother, madame, is conspicuous by his absence —and a good thing, too. I’d give him a damned good thrashing if he were here! I forbid you here and now to go off with your brother ever again!”
“Forbid?” she asked icily. “I think not, my lord.” She prodded Zeus with her heel; he sprang forward, past Ravenspur, and into the stables.
Roger glared at Sir Bryan and gave the order between clenched teeth: “Seize him! Lock him up!”
Inside the stables the new white mares created a sensation. Old Dobbin untied their ropes and chuckled, “The Arabian will think it’s his birthday.” Tom and Kenneth ran their hands along the mares’ flanks in appreciation. “You picked real beauties, my lady.”
“Well, I’m glad someone appreciates the presents I’ve bought for my husband.” She unsaddled Zeus herself and gave him a brisk rubdown and a generous feeding of oats.
Only then did she go to the castle to face the music. As she mounted the staircase that led to her chambers, Roger’s tall figure loomed above her. “I wish to speak with you,” he said firmly.
“I need a bath, my lord,” she said coolly.
“Damn it, the bath can wait! I want you in here now, Roseanna.”
He flung her into his chamber but she turned to face him with her hands on her hips. His dark eyes roamed assessingly over her. She was wildly beautiful in her windblown disarray. “Go on, vent your spleen on me— let’s get it over with!” she demanded.
He leaned back against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest. “Roseanna, I never want to return home again and find you missing!”
“How was I to know you would return so quickly?” she flared.
He spoke patiently. “Is it not reasonable to let your women or Mr. Burke know where you are going?”
She ignored the question. “When we wed, you told me I would be free to come and go as I pleased!”
“And you are, but I ask again: Is it not reasonable to let someone know where you are going?”
“I suppose so,” she conceded. Then she added quickly, “But I don’t appreciate being shouted at in front of your men. After all, the mares were meant as a surprise present for you. You could at least be grateful!”
He grinned and closed the distance between them in two strides. His fingers threaded through her hair, and he brought her face up for his kiss. “Let me show you how grateful,” he murmured against her mouth.
She felt the kiss all the way down to her knees. He slipped her breast from her shirt, and she cried out as he dipped his head to put his hot mouth onto her sensitive nipple. She pulled away from him. “My bath, Ravenspur.”
“Do you mean to deny me?” he asked softly.
“Without a moment’s hesitation.” Her words were cut off as his mouth descended onto hers to take the kisses he lusted for. “Have I not taught you that I will take whatever 1 want from you, whenever I want it? I think another lesson is in order.”
“Ravenspur, my bath!”
“To hell with your bath!” he swore. He had an overwhelming need to assert his authority over her, to brand her flesh as his. He almost tore the silken shirt off her; pushing her back onto the bed, he pulled off her riding skirt. The soft suede riding boots came up almost to her thighs, and she presented such an erotic picture, lying nude save the boots, that he went on his knees to her, burying his head between her legs. He tongued her, seeking her honey, which sent pulsating waves of heat up inside of her.
“Please … no!” she cried, thinking she couldn’t bear the intensity a moment longer. But his tongue was like wildfire stroking her secret place, arousing pleasures that were before unknown. At last she cried out her pleasure; he did not withdraw his tongue until she lay quiet and panting to catch her breath. He stood up and grinned down at her. “I have other presents, brought all the way from Tangiers on one of my ships,” he added persuasively. “Come back after your bath and see if the things please you.”
“If this is your way of apologizing, I’ll think on it,” she said grandly.
The corners of his mouth twitched. Even naked, her manner showed her royal blood as clearly as if she had proclaimed from the rooftops that she was the King’s daughter.
Late in the afternoon, when she thought perhaps he would not be in his chamber, she slipped along to satisfy her curiosity about what was in the leather trunk. She cautiously opened his door but gasped when he grinned at her.
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said artlessly.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Roseanna, you are a damned little cheat!”
She laughed. “Ravenspur, I have to be as wily as a fox to deal with you. Now, my lord, what did you bring me?”
“You are all woman! In spite of yourself you adore presents.” He indicated the trunk. “Help yourself.”
She knelt down and lifted the trunk lid. She gasped with pleasure at the sight of the brilliant silks. She pulled out a silken caftan of scarlet, and another of bright turquoise, and yet another of pale orchid. Beneath these was a robe of pure white with a white turban encrusted with small topaz jewels and golden beads. She opened the ivory casket and sniffed each bottle with appreciation. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that Roger removed his doublet and shirt without her noticing.
“Try them on,” he said huskily, and when she turned to look at him, she was stunned by his naked chest, powerfully muscled and covered with black hair. His powerful thighs showed clearly in his skin-tight breeches; his half-naked body disturbed her deeply. He exuded mastery over himself and, she imagined, over any situation in which he found himself. “Put one on,” he urged, “and I’ll have Mr. Burke fetch our supper up here.”
She could not resist the pure white robe with the matching turban and lifted it reverently from the trunk. Her mother’s words drifted back to her—“Enslave him” —and she wondered if it would be possible to enslave this man.
A low knock came upon the chamber door, and Roger uttered a fertile oath. He opened the door to admit Dirk. The young man handed Ravenspur a ring of keys. “The prisoner is secure for the night, my lord. His horse has been locked away as an added precaution.”
Roger nodded curtly and closed the door after him.
“What prisoner is that?” asked Roseanna with interest.
Roger’s face was closed and forbidding, and suddenly an ugly suspicion raised itself.
“Who is your prisoner, my lord?” she asked again.
“Leave it, Roseanna,” he warned.
Her mouth went dry. “It’s Sir Bryan, isn’t it?” she demanded.