When she was finally finished he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. She was boneless, staring at him from fogged eyes, her knees out to the sides, looking particularly enticing.
“You have ruined me for any other man,” she said on a laugh.
It was meant to be a jest but the thought of her with another man, of another man licking and sucking her, drained any humor from him. He sat back on his heels, about to apologize, but she sat forward and grabbed his hands.
“I want to do the same for you.”
“What?” His mind was clouded, definitely not working to its full potential because he could not have heard her correctly.
“I want to do the same for you,” she said again, tugging on his hands. “Sit on the couch.”
“Rose…” But he did as she insisted, and she knelt in front of him as he had done to her. He covered her hands with his when she reached for the buttons on his breeches. “You don’t have to.”
“I know that. I want to. Please, Will.”
Helpless against her, he let his hand fall away and watched as she undid his breeches and pulled his flame-red and painfully erect cock out. His knees fell open and she leaned in, taking him in her mouth.
“Good God, Rose.” But his head fell back, and he watched her from lowered lids, her copper hair falling all around him, her head bent industriously.
She sucked him in and he cried out, his hands curling into fists. Her head bobbed up and down as she worked his cock, sucking it and letting it slide out. He put his hands on either side of her head and guided her, showing her the rhythm. She was a quick and eager study and soon he was gasping, his hips thrusting as his release came so fast and furious from somewhere deep in his spine and erupting through him until he shoved his hips up high and shot his semen into her mouth and down her throat.
She made a surprised sound but swallowed readily even as he squirted over and over.
Drained, he collapsed onto the couch. She lifted her head and smiled at him.
“I liked that,” she said.
He moaned. “I’ve thoroughly spoiled you now.”
She grabbed the wine bottle and took a healthy swallow. She was disheveled and the room smelled of their sexual release. He would forever remember this moment, with the moon shining down on her, lighting her hair, revealing her smile, highlighting her naked breasts, half covered with her red hair as she drank from a bottle of wine. Good Lord, but he was enamored.
“I…” He clamped his lips shut because he was about to say, I love you, Rose.
Chapter 21
It was coming upon dawn when Rose tiptoed into her chambers. The fire had burnt itself down to bright orange coals, glowing in the dark.
“There you are!”
Rose froze and turned cautiously toward Margaret who was struggling to sit up in bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Where have you been?”
Margaret sounded more like Rose’s mother than her own ma did.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Rose said.
Margaret threw off the blankets and came around the bed to squint at Rose. “I saw your conversation with Lord Lysle. He was most unhappy when you walked away from him. When you didn’t return to our chambers I worried that he’d done something to you.” She took Rose’s hands in hers. “You’re freezing. You’ve been traipsing around outside again, haven’t you? Really, Rose, you must stop that. It’s not safe and you’ll catch your death out there in the frigid temperatures.”
Margaret was tugging her toward the fire and talking so fast that Rose couldn’t get a word in and that was fine by her. Let Margaret believe that she’d been outside.
Rose stoked up the coals and threw two logs on the fire. Flames shot up and the logs popped and hissed. Almost instantly warmth started to permeate the bedchamber.
“Turn around,” Margaret said. “I’ll undo your laces. No reason to rouse Alice this early.”
Rose hesitated and, with an irritated huff Margaret went around her mumbling about cold temperatures and flights of fancy, but then Margaret went silent and Rose cringed, knowing what was coming.
“Rose?”
“Yes?”
“Why are your laces undone?”
Rose slowly turned to face Margaret’s dawning realization. “You were with him tonight, weren’t you?”
“Him?” She tried to appear innocent but it wasn’t working. Not with Margaret.
“Lord Sheffield. You were with him tonight.”
Rose pressed her lips together, irked that Margaret was making her feel guilty. She should not feel guilty for what she and Will had done. It was wonderful and beautiful and no harm had come to either of them. And, besides, it wasn’t any of Margaret’s business anyway.
“Oh, Rose.” Margaret passed a hand over her eyes and sighed.
“I don’t need a lecture,” Rose said defensively.
“No. Of course not. Here, let me get this gown off you. Alice put a warm brick beneath your blankets hours ago, before I dismissed her. Hopefully there will be some warmth still left.”
Rose submitted to Margaret’s poor rendition of a lady’s maid until she was divested of her beautiful gold gown and petticoats and had quickly pulled on her cold nightdress. She climbed into bed. The brick still held a faint warmth, enough that her toes didn’t freeze.
The silence between them was stifling and she could feel Margaret’s displeasure hanging in the small space between their beds. The stoked fire was giving enough light that it would make sleep impossible. Not that she was tired anyway.
“You’re disappointed,” she said, not willing to look at Margaret. For some reason her friend’s disappointment was worse than her parents’ disappointment.
“Not disappointed.” Margaret’s voice drifted into the room. She too was looking away. Rose wondered if Margaret would think less of her now. It mattered, even though it shouldn’t. “But I am worried,” Margaret said.
“We didn’t do anything that compromised me.”
There was a disbelieving noise followed by a snort.
“I am still…a virgin, if that makes things better.” Though being in an abandoned room all night with Will would certainly compromise her if anyone found out.
“That is good, at least,” Margaret said.
There was much rustling and movement and Rose chanced a glance to see Margaret out of bed and pulling on her robe. She was suddenly at Rose’s side, poking her to move over. Rose scooted to the edge and Margaret lifted the blankets and slid in. Her body heat instantly warmed the cold sheets.
“You seemed fine with Lord Sheffield before,” Rose said softly.
“That was before I realized how serious this was becoming. Sheffield is…Well, he’s a fine-looking man and he seems amiable enough but like you said, he’s English. And you were sent here to wed a Scottish noble. An innocent flirtation is one thing but I fear that you are becoming far too serious about Sheffield.”
“If you only knew him like I do, Margaret. He’s kind and caring and he listens to me when I speak. Lord Lysle barely tolerates me when I speak.”
“But you’re not suited, Rose.”
“We’re suited in everything that matters.”
Margaret raised a brow in skepticism.
“He went to school with Lord Darnley. Do you think Lord Darnley went to school with the baker’s or the tanner’s sons? That’s just silly.”
“Is he wealthy?”
Rose hesitated. They had never talked about wealth before. “Money is not everything.”
“Yes, Rose, it is. For our kind money is everything. Wealth, a title, social standing. It’s why we’re here. It’s why your mother worked so hard to get you here.”
“That is my mother’s dream. Not mine.”
“So you will follow this man you barely know to where? Where is he from? Where is he going?”
“He’s from England and I have no idea where he’s going after this. We haven’t discussed it and for your information I won’t be following him anyw
here because he has made it perfectly clear that nothing can come of…this.”
“This?”
“Yes, this.” She was angry now because Margaret was forcing her to face some hard truths.
“Don’t you see, Rose? You are dallying with a man, and jeopardizing your reputation, when nothing can come of it. I understand that he is exciting and different, but Lord Lysle is the man that will give you stability and a comfortable life.”
Margaret was right. If Rose didn’t know about the plot to kill the king, if she didn’t know Sheffield, then she would consider Lysle a perfect match. But she did know all of that and she knew Sheffield intimately and Margaret didn’t know everything there was to know about Lysle.
“Lord Lysle is pompous and full of himself,” she said.
“You are lucky to have his attention. Every girl here wants to land a man like Lord Lysle and he’s bestowed his attentions on you, Rose.”
“But why?” she cried.
“It’s not up to you to question it.”
Rose took a calming breath. “I will never marry him,” she said. “Never.”
Margaret looked at her sadly. “I was happy for you when you seemed so happy with Sheffield but I should have warned you away from him. He is not one of us and therefore not acceptable. Are you…” She hesitated. “Are you in love with Lord Sheffield?”
“Yes.” Yes, she was in love with Will Sheffield. She loved the way he listened to her. She loved that he asked for her advice. She loved sitting on an old, dusty couch and feeling his fingers run through her hair and she loved sharing a bottle of wine and talking about her childhood. He listened to her with his whole body. She knew that when she spoke his entire attention was focused on her, and he absorbed what she said.
He took her seriously when none of the other men—especially Lord Lysle—did.
“Rose. This is a passing infatuation. Men like Lord Sheffield flit in and out of women’s lives all the time. How many other women do you think fancied themselves in love with him over the years? Dozens, probably. He knows that and he’s taking advantage of it.”
She wanted to deny everything Margaret was saying but in her heart she knew it was probably true. Will Sheffield was one of those men whose charisma drew women to him and he admitted that he was also a man who was not going to settle down any time soon, if at all.
“Regardless, I will not wed Lysle if he asks.”
“Maybe you will change your mind.”
“I will never change my mind, Margaret.”
She desperately wanted to tell her friend why—that underneath the respectability and wealth laid a heart of stone that thought nothing of killing a monarch. But she wouldn’t put Margaret’s safety in jeopardy that way.
“I think I’m going to return home after the baptism,” Rose said. “It will be a good opportunity to collect my thoughts away from the palace and Lysle and Will.”
Even though she knew Will would not be here after the baptism. He’d not said as much, but it was something in her heart that she knew. Their time was coming to an end and she didn’t want to be here after he left.
“Just please promise me that you will think about what I said,” Margaret pleaded.
“I will think about it.” But Rose knew it to be a lie.
Chapter 22
Rose lay awake long after Margaret went to her own bed and the fire died down to glowing embers. The palace began to awaken slowly, first the maids who tended the morning fires, then the other servants. The nobles would not begin to stir until far later but Rose knew that the queen would be at her morning prayers early and then she would attend to state business.
If I had a daughter I would allow her to wear her hair in braids and climb rocks in breeches. I would not force her to sit for hours while someone dressed her hair and conform to society’s silly rules.
She imagined Will’s dark-haired daughters with wild hair, running half naked through a field laughing with their father. What lucky girls they would be and what a lucky woman who would give him those girls.
Rose pretended to be asleep when Margaret woke and Alice helped her dress. When Margaret left the room, Rose slid out of bed and had Alice dress her, then instructed Alice to braid her hair and put it in a simple coronet around her head.
She left her chambers trying to decide if she wanted to skip the morning meal and head to the stables or eat quickly then head to the stables.
“Rose?”
She turned to find Lysle behind her. She remembered Margaret’s warning that Lysle had not been happy with her abrupt departure last night and she well remembered the caustic words she’d tossed at him before stomping away in a huff.
“My lord.”
He appeared different, unsure of himself. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the man unsure of anything.
“Can we speak?” he asked. “I feel that there are things we need to say to each other.”
She hesitated.
“Please,” he said, looking contrite and embarrassed.
She nodded her consent and he led her into the dining hall and picked two seats at the end of a long table, away from others but not so far away that it would draw notice.
“I believe I might have spoiled things last night,” he said in a solemn, regretful tone.
It was on the tip of Rose’s tongue to dismiss his claim out of politeness but she held back because she did not want to be polite and she did not want to give him an easy way out of his hurtful words.
He had revealed his true self last night.
“Will you please accept my apologies?”
“Lord Lysle,” she began, ready to end whatever it was that he thought they had together.
He held up his hand to silence her. The servants had brought the food at some point but she had not noticed and she was not hungry. She desperately wanted to get away from here.
“Please,” he said. “Don’t say anything. I will leave you to your meal and to wherever it was you were going before I waylaid you. Just know that I am humbly sorry and expect that we will make a fresh start after this.”
Sorry for what? For being an arse the night before? And what fresh start? There was to be no fresh start. And what did he mean he expected it? Did he assume she would fall in line with his plans? But he had already left and she realized she was sitting alone and she was very angry.
She left the dining hall and practically marched to the stables.
Her mood improved considerably when she saw Will at the other end as if he was waiting for her.
Her smile was heartfelt and wide as she approached him. “Tyche is warming up to you,” she said, turning her attention to the horse. He nuzzled her, snuffling and searching for a treat.
“I didn’t bring you anything, you ingrate,” she said, laughing as he pulled on her hair, ruining Alice’s coronet of braids.
“I think he likes you far more than he does me,” Will said.
She patted Tyche’s nose before turning to lean a shoulder against the stall and eye Will. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you, of course.”
“And you were so certain that you would find me here?”
He cocked a brow at her, his lips quivering at the corners and she huffed out a breath. “You know me well.”
“There is only so much of court life that you can take. I figured your patience would be at an end soon.”
She grinned and wondered how long he had been waiting for her. Could he not wait to see her as much as she couldn’t wait to see him?
“Well, I’m pleased you found me. I wanted to speak to you.”
The humor faded from his expression. “This sounds serious.”
“It is very serious. It’s a beautiful morning. Let’s walk.”
The feel of snow was in the crisp air that took one’s breath away and numbed the cheeks, but after walking for a few moments Rose’s limbs began to warm and it felt invigorating.
Will placed Rose’s hand on his arm and they wal
ked like that for a bit, formally, with enough space between them that no one would think twice if they happened to see them from a window. And yet walking next to him was enough. Rose was acutely aware of the proximity of Will’s body and the heat that was coming off him, warming one side of her. Just being in his presence, even in silence, was enough. She was at ease with him, something that she’d never been with anyone except maybe her oldest brother, John.
“When we were together the other day…” she broke into the silence. He made a humming noise and she wondered if he was thinking that it was nice being with her. Or were her feelings all one sided? “You let me talk on and on about my family but you never told me about yours.”
She held her breath, sensing that maybe this wasn’t a subject he wanted to broach. He’d been strangely quiet on all things related to his private life, dropping bits of information as if they were nuggets of gold but being stingy with them. And she wanted to know. She wanted to know all about him. His fears, his favorite foods, his favorite color. Everything.
“There’s not much to tell,” he said.
“Surely there is something. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No.”
She waited for more but nothing was forthcoming and now that she’d introduced the subject she hesitated to continue. But she burned to know more about him. How could she have such strong feelings for him when she knew so little of him?
He must have sensed her growing frustration for he sighed. “I was an only child, raised in northern England by a series of nannies and then governesses until I was old enough to be brought to London and attend school.”
He said it quickly and without feeling, as if reciting a lesson he’d been forced to learn in school and yet Rose sensed the loneliness in the words and her heart went out to him.
For someone who grew up with absolutely no privacy and brothers who never allowed her a moment’s peace this existence sounded horribly lonely.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.
“For what?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she was sensing a distance between them. She regretted bringing up his childhood. Obviously not everyone had the warm memories of growing up that she had.
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