This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  Two days later Katherine sat with Roger over wine and fruit brought to them in the cool garden which sloped down to the river. He had been out in the city to seek out old friends. She had rested and given herself over to the care of Lucy who was filled with admonitions about protecting one’s skin and hair.

  Roger said, “By all accounts young Edward is nothing like his father.” They could talk of little but the coming coronation and the character of the new government.

  Katherine remarked, “That might well be a blessing. I care not who reigns, so long as I am left in peace.” With James, her heart added.

  Roger stretched out an elegant, green stockinged leg. “I wonder what will befall his uncle when Edward comes of age and attains full power? The boy has always inclined toward his mother and she has never cared for Gloucester.”

  Katherine thought of the moon pale face under the black veil and the icy eyes that had held Rykos at bay. “All the tales of her witchery say that she holds men in thrall. He, too, will succumb.”

  “She will emerge to see her son crowned. The authority of her husband’s brother will be accepted. Wait and see.”

  The sun beat down beyond their circle of dappled shade. A cloud of bees rose from the golden flowers not far away. The river gurgled softly and a boatman’s call came clearly to them.

  Katherine played with a tendril of hair. “Let it be, Roger. I am bored with all this speculation—it makes me sleepy.”

  He reached over to cut an early rose and laid it in her lap. “I know the Woodville ambition and the boy is half that.”

  Katherine laughed. “Enough!” Inwardly, she was in full agreement. She would make James listen to her somehow. He must know all that had happened to her; perhaps he could make sense of it." Roger would only smile in his good-natured way and tease her about visions. She lifted the full red rose to smell its piercing sweetness and, as she did so, yawned widely.

  Roger looked at her with an ease of camaraderie she had never known. He put his hand on hers and they laughed together.

  It was then that the familiar, sardonic voice came from their left. “Madam, you will explain yourself. This instant.”

  Chapter 27

  Divers Secrets

  Katherine and Roger jerked apart in surprise but she could see that to a suspicious man it might have seemed guilt. James stood in the shadow of the flowering bush, elegantly clad, with all his old alertness restored. His face was smooth and lean, his eyes inscrutable. His fingers were hooked in his sword belt and his lips curled in a frown.

  “I believe that I have spoken to you. Madam. I do not recall giving you permission to leave the castle; indeed, I ordered you to remain. What do you do here?” He ignored Roger, his glare was all for Katherine.

  She gazed at him and the old fires burned in her body with new heat. “I came for the coronation. Were not all invited? Roger came to travel with you, learned that you had departed, and very kindly offered to escort me.” She was glad that her voice did not shake with the apprehension she felt.

  “You disobeyed my order.” He came close to her and caught her shoulder. “I will not tolerate disobedience.”

  Roger intervened. “Jamie, I persuaded her. What harm can there be?”

  James swung round to face him. “The lady has a predilection for young gentlemen. You had best beware. She has learned much since the inn. I can vouch for that.” His laugh was unpleasant.

  Roger glanced at Katherine in honest bewilderment and she felt her anger rise. “James, do such games give you pleasure? Nothing has passed between your lady wife and myself. I hold her in the highest respect. I vow by the Virgin.” His open young face reflected his hurt but his hand was very near his sword. Roger of Amneston was not one to brook insult, even from a kinsman as dear as James.

  Katherine jerked free of her husband’s fingers and snapped, “For that matter, James, where have you been these past days? I know that you saw us in the street when the singers sang of your master. Why did you not speak to us and join us as would have been seemly?”

  James stared at her, his mouth slightly open. “I do not know what you mean.” His eyes told her that he lied.

  Roger laughed, the sound warm and comfortable in the last light of the glimmering day. These were his favorite people and James had ever been quick of tongue. They turned to him as he said, “Jamie, you are jealous, as who would not be when confronted with the fairest face in the kingdom?”

  James frowned at them both, then his look fell to Katherine’s flat stomach under the fitted gown and rose again to her face. In one unguarded instant his weariness and pain showed, then faded. He was once again the courtier.

  “Welcome to this house, my cousin. I thank you for escorting my wife. Will you remain with us until the proceedings are past?”

  He hesitated over the word proceedings and Katherine wondered that he did not say coronation. She knew that he was angered by her presence and not jealous. Jealousy would have been reason for hope that he cared. Doubtless he hated the fact that he would have to seek her bed again.

  James was continuing, “Come, cousin, I shall order the best of the house in your honor.” He linked arms with Roger, ignoring Katherine, and they started toward the house, the little panes of which were flaming in the setting sun.

  Humiliation burned in her. He should not treat her so! She called out in the voice that was Antony’s own, that held the pride of her house. “Husband, you have been too long away from the civilizing influences of a wife. Wait, we shall order the best in our cousin’s honor. Further, elegant dress is the order of the evening and I decree that there is to be no talk of political matters at my table. I am bored to distraction by all this.” She stood, her gauntlet cast down before him.

  James turned and looked at her as she stood, slight and burnished in the light, head high. Roger, too, saw the battle of wills and knew that he must not intervene. This was between husband and wife, lovers both, though they knew it not.

  James bowed to Katherine in the graceful, elegant way of Edward’s court. His eyes saluted a worthy opponent even as he said in his cool way, “I look forward to the evening, my lady.” Then he crossed to her and offered her his arm.

  The evening meal was lavish for the three of them. Capon, fish from the river, roasted meats, pastries, fine Bordeaux, fresh fruits. The conversation was urbane, and lively. James still wore black that rendered him all the more elegant and Roger was in blue. Katherine wore a clinging dress of off-white with sleeves of apple green that brought the brilliance of her eyes into clarity. Up in the minstrel’s gallery, three boys sang the old songs of love and chivalry.

  It should have been a happy time of reunion but it was not. There were old scores to be paid and the look in James’s eyes told Katherine that it would not be long before she was called to account. Roger chatted of a visit he had paid to France during one of the brief periods of toleration between the two countries. James, willing to play the game, recounted a dispute between scholars at the University of Paris over the corporeal nature of demons.

  “By the faith, I believe that they were serious. I was but a boy, yet their logic escaped now as then. The real world that is here to be seen and touched, that is enough for me.” James took a sip of the delicate wine and lowered his goblet to the white cloth.

  “Love is a reality that cannot be held in the hands.” Katherine spoke softly in the candlelight.

  “Love of God, country and a woman, the flesh made one, the love of children.” Roger was a bit drunk and his words were louder than conversation required. They fell into the silence.

  The voices of the boys in the gallery rang pure and true. “Oh, love, for thee I would cross the wild country; for thee I would lift the sword and hold it high.”

  “The flesh made one,” said James in a half whisper. His eyes were dark and smoky on Katherine, his long fingers stretched out in what seemed an invitation.

  Katherine felt her throat go dry and her skin bloomed pink as she said, “A
ye, my lord. So are we adjured.”

  Roger saw how it was between them, that they walked in their own net of passion, and he called for more wine so that he might sit over it in the garden and watch the moon rise. His good night was barely acknowledged.

  In the bedroom that James occupied, Katherine stood hesitant. He had brought her here, seeming an eager lover, then he had bent over the scrawled papers on the table, studying them with an intent gaze that dismissed her entirely. She did not know whether to sit or stand and in her uncertainty she began to fumble with the lacings of the gown.

  “You need not bother. I did not bring you here for that.” He spoke over his shoulder but the words were flat.

  Katherine was surprised at the depth of her pain as she cried, “But I thought you understood about Roger? Surely you are not still angry? James, can you not trust me at all?”

  Slowly he turned around and faced her. His dark face was drawn and sober over the high cheekbones. “Trust is a word not to be used between men and women. Did you bed with him?”

  She drew in her breath in shock as she said, “No. But what good is it to ask me such questions if you do not believe me?”

  James sighed. He said, “I will punish you for disobeying me. You may be sure of that. A husband’s will is law. But for now we must appear to be united with no sign of dissension between us. That is why I playacted so before young Roger. He is a gossip and I may have need of that quality.”

  “What has happened?” She chose to ignore the inflammatory words he had spoken. A heavy burden lay on him this night.

  James said, “I must ask you a grave question. Answer as you would at the day of atonement.”

  She saw that this went beyond their personal lives and spoke in kind. “I have never lied to you, James, whether you believed it or not.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “I have this day spoken to the Lord Protector who told me of the meeting you had with him in which you told him of your father and the circumstances of his banishment. He forgets nothing, thus when the papers of the late King, his brother, were examined in recent days, it came out that the name of Antony Hartley was coupled with that of the Duke of Clarence regarding a certain Eleanor Butler. Did your father ever speak of this to you?”

  Katherine was finding it hard to catch the gist of what he was talking about. George, Duke of Clarence, the King’s own brother, had died in mysterious circumstances years ago while in the Tower under sentence of death for treason. What had old mysteries to do with now?

  “Who was Eleanor Butler?”

  James paced back and forth, his fingers snapping. “Answer the question!”

  “He would tell me nothing. I begged but he would not speak. Is there an effort to clear his name because you are wed to me?” Katherine thought that if James had instituted such a thing it would be to his own ends. Had he thought her pregnant and wanted to clear the way for the child’s heritage?

  His patience at an end, James caught her shoulders and shook her hard. His eyes blazed into hers with an urgency she had never seen there before. “You hold no kindness for me, nor should you, but Gloucester stands as king to this land. Answer as to him.”

  “It is the same. Antony told me nothing.” Once again she saw her father’s faded brilliance, his determination that she know nothing, and chills slid down her back. He had protected her to the end.

  James slammed one hand into the other. “I do not care about your father’s name. That is past and you would do well to forget it. This is a matter so serious that it could affect the succession to the throne, a matter so secret that no word must be breathed to anyone as yet. Men are killed for less than this.”

  “What have I to do with this?”

  “The matter involves you and has done so all along. There are those who believe you have information given to you by Antony who carried the secret into banishment.”

  Katherine expelled her breath in a great sigh and the world swung before her eyes. James supported her lest she fall. One hand moved down the side of her face and on to the swell of her breasts which were covered by the filmy material of her dress. The fire leapt between them, his warm breath mingled with hers and she felt his taut body quiver. Then he drew back, the pulse leaping in his temple.

  She whispered, “Tell me. It is my right.”

  The gray eyes met hers with a curious tenderness. “Dare I tell you?” He spoke as to himself, a man accustomed to holding his own counsel. “Yes, that much is owed you. There are some among the Protector’s counsellors who believe the old story of a precontract that King Edward had with Eleanor Butler before he married the present Queen. By that precontract, all children of his marriage to the Queen would be illegitimate. George of Clarence took it seriously and died for it. The tale faded from the public mind. There were papers ... I am not sure. If we find proof, as I think we may, we will bring it before the Protector and require that he act accordingly.”

  “Accordingly?” The word stuck in her throat and she could not go beyond it so great was the enormity of her thought.

  “Take what is his by right. The crown of England.” James looked older than his years and there were the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes. He almost whispered the treasonous words.

  Katherine was horrified. “You think to tamper with the succession! James, you cannot! It is only a tale!”

  “It is not the Woodville influence nor yet the fact that the land needs a strong ruler, Katherine. There have been many abuses such as the betrayal of your father. There is danger of civil war. If this should be true, it will shake the land. But it must be investigated. As I said, we are few and it may come to naught.” He threw himself down on the bed and began to rub his temples, exhaustion apparent in every movement.

  Katherine said, “It is death to meddle. Drop it.” Antony’s fate rose up before her and the tears pricked at her lids.

  James spoke with all the courage of an honest man, “King Edward was once my friend in the days before he began to change. The Protector has been both friend and commander; I owe him more than I can ever repay. It was he who taught me again that honor is not an empty word. My judgment must not be swayed.” He shuddered at the power upon him.

  Katherine put her cool hands on his neck and began to massage it slowly, feeling the bands of muscle bunched as if they were iron, he did not reject her; she had vowed never again to touch him In self initiated passion for she remembered too well the illness and anger that had precipitated from her earlier attempt.

  He lay back and closed his eyes as she began to circle his face with slow movements. The frown left it as he began to relax. Then one hand slid up her arm, moved to touch a tendril of the swinging hair, reached over to her bodice and halted. He opened his eyes then and looked into the serious green ones above him.

  “Katherine?”

  It was the first time in all their relationship that he had ever asked if she wanted his lovemaking. Passion rose so high in her that she could not speak. But her eagerness was all in the swollen breasts and parted lips, in the hammering mound between her thighs. Swiftly they removed their clothes and tumbled backwards on the bed. His hands fit Katherine down so that she rose and fell on the shining shaft of his manhood as it lifted into her pulsating warmth. She lifted her hips to his hands, her rosy breasts bounced, and her face contorted in the mask of ecstasy as their sweat dripped and mingled in the united flames that joined them.

  Her tongue circled his navel, flicked and drew. His mouth locked with hers and their bodies strained in the renewed eagerness. They pressed together, and rolled apart, and she pulled him over her. Then he entered her and lay solidly there, thrusting every now and then, holding and pacing himself while she writhed under him and their eyes looked wildly into each other’s. He rose slightly on her even as she moaned. His hands touched and moved on her breasts, then moved down her wet sides so that goose pimples rose and faded in response. Then he moved in her again so gently that the tantalizing motion was almost more than
she could bear.

  Her head went back and she shivered in a transport of passion. The next thrust was harder, then slow and soft. She cried out, “Jamie, hard! Hard, I say!”

  He stopped and a frown crossed his face which was now alight with his own hunger. His hand paused on her stomach. He seemed suddenly far away and she felt his movement fading within her.

  She tightened her muscles and held on with all her strength. She pulled at his hand and put it to her breast, then lifted her whole body. “Now, Jamie, I want you. Now.” She moved upward and felt his response, slow at first, then harder and stronger. He looked down and tiny points of desire flickered in his eyes. She lifted wantonly, her tongue thrust out between the red lips and her hand touched the place where their bodies were joined.

  “Now!” She arched and he rose to meet her in a spasm of thrusting and pulling that lifted them from the bed and threw them back by the power of it. Katherine felt the approach of the sweet abyss and heard her voice cry out in longing. He, too, called out and their voices melted as their mouths locked. Then James was writhing back from her, thrusting more deeply yet into her own arching. The explosion took them and they fell with it, rising one last time, and shivering into warm exhaustion, locked together in the aftermath of passion.

  Later in the reaches of the night, lying in the curve of his arm, too relaxed and slaked for any other passion, Katherine was able to tell him of Frances and her words, and of the gypsy. She did not yet trust the warmth between them enough to tell the full horror of her kidnapping. When the time was ready, she would speak.

  His warm breath tickled her cheek and his hand rested on her breasts as he said, “Are you then with me, Katherine?”

  “Aye, my dear lord, to the death.”