The Marriage Priza

by Virginia Henley

  Rickard de Burgh laughed softly. "Some consider it a curse, not a gift. I don't want to frighten you, my dear, but the future brings a great conflict. Rodger de Leyburn's strength and position will give you the protection you need. It will be a rough road for all, but in the end you will not just survive, you will flourish."

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  As she looked up into his eyes, she saw that they were not really like de Leyburn's at all. Though Rickard de Burgh looked at her, he did not really see her—he saw some vision. When de Leyburn's bold green gaze was upon her, he not only saw her, he undressed her! Lady Eleanor's words came back to her: Sir Rickard is a most chivalrous knight, and devas-tatingly attractive, hut far too old for you, darling. You lost your heart to him because he was like a father to you, much as William Marshal was to me. I didn't realize it, of course, until after I fell passionately in love with Simon de Montfort. And it will be so with you and Rod.

  "Thank you for sharing this confidence with me, Sir Rickard. I will think hard on what you have told me." Rosamond handed his cloak back to him and descended from Kenilworth's battlements.

  When she entered her chamber, she found her wedding dress lying upon her bed. Apparently, Hilda had finished it, without a final fitting. It was a costly gown, designed to serve her at Windsor's court functions. Rosamond touched the forget-me-not blue silk with her fingertips, wishing it away, wishing Sir Rodger de Leyburn had never come to Kenilworth. Because of him, her thoughts were in disarray, her temper in chaos, her poise shattered, and her tranquility vanished. De Leyburn was a devil who had insinuated himself into her life and was determined to bend her to his will.

  The things Lady Eleanor had said about this marriage cementing the bonds between Lord Edward and Earl Simon made her feel like a marionette. And she suspected that someone had asked Sir Rickard de Burgh to seek her out and persuade her to their cause. Rosamond decided that she would not go to the hall to dine tonight, but remain in her chamber. She would remain here all day tomorrow as well, avoiding everyone. When she did not show up at the chapel at the appointed time, all Kenilworth would know that the wedding was off! Rosamond had a mind of her own; she would show them that they could not pull her strings to make her obey!

  That evening both Demi and Nan left her to herself. Both believed that Rosamond was pensive because she was nervous and because very soon she would be leaving Kenilworth, which had been her home for so many years. They did not wish to intrude on Rosamond's last night as an

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  unmarried lady. Before leaving Rosamond's bedchamber, Nan, who had already packed most of her mistress's clothes, linen, and other belongings for her move to London, glanced over at her fondly. Chirk lay curled on Rosamond's lap, her eyes closing in ecstasy as her ears were gently rubbed. / hope this marriage is right for her, Nan thought silently as she softly closed the door.

  ******************

  By first light on December 23, Kenilworth Castle was a hive of activity. The chapel was decorated for the nuptials and for the Holy Days of Christmas. The kitchens were filled with tantalizing aromas; the loaves of bread had gone into the ovens before dawn and then dark fruitcakes took their place. Outside, a great pile of oysters was being shucked, traditional fare for weddings, while stags and boar were spitted over fire pits. Barrels of October ale were being brought from the brewhouse, and red wine, imported from Gascony, was hauled up from Kenilworth's cellars.

  In the Warwick Tower, the door was ajar between the adjoining chambers of Edward Plantagenet and Rodger de Leyburn. Their squires, Owen and Griffin, scurried back and forth as the two nobles dressed for the wedding. Lord Edward was in high good humor, shouting bawdy advice to his friend about the best way to rid a virgin of her hymen. Rod gave as good as he got, reminding Edward that soon his own virgin bride would be brought to Windsor.

  "You are a lucky devil, Rod. Not only do you gain a wealthy heiress, you avoid saddling yourself with a mother-in-law. What on earth she sees in an ugly fellow like you, I have no notion. She should leave you standing at the altar!"

  Rod suddenly went cold with premonition. Since Rosamond had told him to "rot in hell," she had purposely avoided him. Rod assured himself that she would come to the chapel, she would not dare do otherwise. But an inner voice warned him that Rosamond was not like other women. She had a reckless will of her own, and a flaming temper when she chose to display it. A good deal of her appeal was the challenge she represented. To avoid the risk of public humiliation, Rod decided he had better make sure of her.

  He walked into Lord Edward's chamber. "Here is the ring, try not

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  to lose it." It was a wide band of twenty-two-carat gold inscribed with their names: *Rosamond*Rodger*, the letters forming an infinite circle. "Excuse me, there is something I must do."

  "Enjoy your last hour of freedom, your leg shackles await!" Edward taunted as he slipped the ring into his doublet emblazoned with the Plantagenet lions.

  To avoid running into other people, Rod climbed to Kenilworth's ramparts, then crossed to the Lady Tower. He descended the stone steps that led to Rosamond's door.

  ******************

  From the moment she awoke, Rosamond had had a dilemma on her hands. Nan brought her breakfast and urged her to hurry. "I'm not going through with it," Rosamond said quietly.

  Knowing how stubborn her charge could be, Nan resorted to a little manipulation of her own. "You willful girl, I am going to be sick!" Nan clapped her hand over her mouth and fled to the garderobe.

  The Demoiselle awoke, hugged her friend, and urged her to hurry. This time Rosamond wisely remained silent. Before the bathwater was cleared away, the visiting began. It seemed every female at Kenilworth wished to visit the bride this morning. They exclaimed over the elegant wedding dress and gave Rosamond whispered advice regarding marriage, and the wedding night in particular.

  Rosamond knew pandemonium would ensue if she breathed a word about her decision, so she said nothing. They would know soon enough, when she did not show up at Kenilworth's chapel. Her first pang of guilt came when Demi put on her lovely gown of silver tissue. She was to be Rosamond's maid of honor, and she was bubbling with excitement. The next pang of guilt came when Lady Eleanor arrived, bringing Bette, her own tiring-woman, to style Rosamond's honey-gold tresses.

  Nan returned with compressed lips and Rosamond suspected that it was she who had summoned the countess.

  "Since you are a royal ward, darling, Simon and I will both give the bride away," Lady Eleanor declared with regal pride.

  Sacrifice the pawn, you mean! Rosamond tried to summon anger, but all she felt was guilt. She sat obediendy in her linen shift while Bette

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  brushed her hair, then fastened on the circlet of silk snowdrops. The females in the chamber chatted endlessly, completely oblivious to Rosamond's inner turmoil. It was only when Eleanor, Demi, Nan, and Bette collectively reached for the wedding gown that Rosamond broke her silence. "Oh, please, no! Could I be alone?" she pleaded.

  Everyone in the room except Nan put it down to bridal nerves. Lady Eleanor ushered them all out. "Rosamond, rub some rose petals on your cheeks, you are far too pale. Nan, be sure she isn't late." When the chamber door closed, leaving Rosamond and Nan alone, an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Filled with guilt, Rosamond felt bad about her decision to remain in her room. She would have changed her mind if the alternative had not been worse.

  Rosamond watched Nan busy herself, gathering together her mistress's toilet articles, her new night rail and bedgown to take to the bridal chamber that had been especially prepared in the Clinton Tower, so named for Geoffrey de Clinton, who had built Kenilworth in the twelfth century. When another tap came at the door, Rosamond's patience flew out the window. "Please go away!" she admonished.

  The door was opened with such force, it crashed against the wall. Sir Rodger de Leyburn, clad in midnight blue, stepped across the threshold. Rosamond gasped. "You cannot be in the ladies' quarters, it i
s forbidden!"

  "I revel in the forbidden." He gave Nan a telling look, then nodded toward the door. The tiring-woman, relieved to turn the problem over to him, quickly departed.

  De Leyburn's dominant male presence sparked Rosamond's temper and doused her guilt. "How dare you enter my bedchamber when I am in my shift?" she demanded hody.

  "Let me help you into your wedding gown," he said silkily.

  "No!" she spat.

  He gave her a level look. "Put on your wedding gown, or I shall put it on for you."

  "Don't you dare touch me!"

  "I will touch you, by God, any time and any place I choose!" Rod grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet most ungently. She reached for his face to scratch it, but Rodger saw her intent and

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  quickly imprisoned her wrists and lifted them above her head, forcing her struggling body closer to his. He dipped his head, intending to master her with a possessive kiss, but Rosamond deliberately bit his lip. With a foul curse, he picked her up and tossed her onto Demi's empty bed, then threw himself on top of her to prevent her escape.

  In her struggle to free herself from the dark devil, Rosamond's breasts spilled from the low-cut linen shift. She lay panting beneath him, shocked beyond belief that she was becoming aroused. She gasped as his warm breath swept over her naked breasts, then moaned as his hot mouth covered her nipple, sucking greedily. Rosamond knew both his anger and his lust had been fiercely aroused. He whispered hot words, dark words against the sensitive peak of her breast.

  "Stop, stop!" she begged breathlessly, fearing that soon it would be too late for either of them to stop.

  He lifted his dark head and raked her with his fiery green gaze. "Will you put on your wedding gown?" he demanded. She stared at him a moment, taken aback by the fierce expression in his eyes. When she nodded her assent, he slid from the bed and offered her his hand.

  "Rot in hell!" she cried, rolling from the bed and pulling her shift up to cover her naked breasts. Rosamond tossed back her wildly disheveled hair and lifted her chin defiantly.

  Rodger's eyes narrowed. "Either you put on the gown or I carry you to the chapel in your shift; the choice is yours."

  An icy shiver ran down her spine. Rosamond knew he meant it. "If the choice were mine, sir, I would remain a spinster! But the choice is not mine. I am being forced into this marriage by the de Montforts, by the prince, and by you!"

  Rod decided to reason with her. "Rosamond, you are a beautiful, aristocratic woman, just like Eleanor de Montfort. You need a powerful man beside you, in order to take your rightful place in society. Did I not put Pershore back in good running order? This marriage is exactly right for you." Rod looked directly into her eyes and said quietly, "What you feel is not anger, Rosamond, it is fear."

  She glared at him fiercely, but could not deny his accusation. He reached for her hand and held it tightly. "Tell me what you fear, my sweet."

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  "Nothing!" She felt his warmth seep into her fingers. It was a barefaced lie, of course. "Least of all, you!"

  His green eyes lit with amusement. "Then prove it, Rosamond. Put on your wedding dress and come down to the chapel."

  She knew she really had no choice in the matter. She told herself that she had only agreed to marry him because he had saved her life, and now the powers that be would not allow her to change her mind. She was being forced to marry against her will. Rosamond didn't trust herself to speak as she stood before him in angry defiance.

  "You willful, stubborn little witch! I will make you obey me if it's the last thing I do." He snatched up the wedding gown from the bed and began to put it on her. Rodger was so determined that her struggles to elude him were all in vain.

  When she finally stood before him dressed in her wedding gown, she was panting with fury. "You devil, de Leyburn! I will give you more trouble than you have ever dreamed of! You have made it plain the marriage is inevitable, but it shall be a marriage in name only. You may take my castles, but I shall never yield myself to you!"

  Sir Rodger threw open the door and spoke softly to Nan. "Please see to her hair." He turned to Rosamond. "I'll wait right outside. If you give us any more trouble, I shall take you across my knee and tan your arse!"

  In a remarkably short time, the door opened and the bride joined him. Rosamond had never looked more beautiful. The blue silk gown with flowing sleeves and train was a perfect foil for her golden hair that fell to her hips. She offered him her hand and he took it to his lips before he placed it on his sleeve. Behind them Nan gathered up the bridal train, and they set off for the chapel. Rosamond's eyes glittered like amethyst ice. "It is bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

  Rod glanced down at her, amused. "I make my own luck."

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  TWE LVE

  Nearly mesmerized by the flames of the tall candles on the altar, Rosamond suddenly heard the priest solemnly intone, "Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, at bed and at board; love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

  Rosamond hesitated. Obey? Love? She wanted to pledge neither, but finally yielded to the pressure. "I will," she murmured.

  "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man? "

  Eleanor and Simon de Montfort stepped forward. "We do."

  She watched, fascinated, as Lord Edward laid the heavy gold wedding band on the book that the priest held open. Then Sir Rodger took her left hand and slipped the ring on her finger. "With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

  Rosamond pictured the Viking bathing tub with which she had just been endowed and felt an urge to laugh.

  "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," the priest warned. "I pronounce that they be man and wife together, In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

  The moment it was done, Rosamond felt panic rise up inside her. They have made me commit the mistake of a lifetime! Her eyes widened as Sir Rodger dipped his dark head and brushed her lips with his. It is done and cannot be undone. He is my husband for better or for worse, but he will be my husband in name only! she vowed stubbornly.

  The voices of Welsh squires soared like a choir of angels. Rosamond twisted the heavy ring on her finger. The scent of burning candles and incense was overwhelming. She watched Demi bend and gather up

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  her bridal train, then felt de Leyburn's powerful arm steady her and lead her down the aisle.

  The moment they stepped outside the chapel, Rosamond heard the bells begin to peal in celebration. A flock of doves, suddenly startled, rose up in the sky. She lifted her eyes and fervently wished she too could fly free. Then the newlyweds were being showered with rice, and amid shouting and laughter, they made a dash for the shelter and warmth of Kenilworth's Great Hall.

  The gaily decorated hall, which could seat four hundred, was bursting with celebrants. As well as the men and women, ladies and knights, servants and squires who resided at Kenilworth, there were Earl Simon's Welsh bowmen, Lord Edward's Gascons, and Harry of Almaine's fighting men from Cornwall. Young Gilbert de Clare was still there with his knights, as were the de Warenne brothers from Surrey with their own train of fighting men.

  As Rosamond looked down from the dais at the sea of faces, she decided to smile. Any resentment she had would be put aside and kept strictly private until she was alone with Sir Rodger. She had far too much pride to allow anyone to suspect she was anything but blissfully happy. When Griffin stepped forward to fill their goblets, Rosamond gave him a radiant smile that reached to her eyes. She genuinely liked de Leyburn's squire and had no misgivings about the fair-haired young Welshman.

  Lord Edward raised his hands for silence. "Join me in a toast to the happy couple. I'm sure I speak for everyone at Kenilworth today. We wish you great joy—now go forth and multiply!"

  Rau
cous laughter and foot stomping ensued, until the groom got to his feet and raised his goblet. "Today I am the luckiest of men, for I have at last achieved my heart's desire. My wife is a prize beyond belief; I am honored to be united in wedlock with the noble Marshal family. Ladies and gentlemen, join me in a toast to my beautiful bride, Lady Rosamond de Leyburn."

  Lady de Leyburn, it is even awkward to say, Rosamond thought silently as everyone in the hall raised a goblet. She thanked them with a dazzling smile and raised her own goblet. But instead of acknowledging the groom's chivalrous toast, she offered one of her own. "I would like

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  to propose a toast to Lady Eleanor and Earl Simon de Montfort, who have always loved me like a daughter."

  Rod suddenly realized that Rosamond had capitulated because of her deep feelings for the de Montforts. It had little to do with her feelings for him. His towering pride was pricked. So, the prize was not yet his after all, he conceded. He would have to siege the castle and mayhap scale her walls before she yielded to him.

  As the toasts progressed, the couple was presented with many wedding presents. Some were costly, like the magnificent set of mono-grammed silver plate from Lord Edward Plantagenet; others were exquisite, like the brilliant tapestries from the de Montforts, and a pair of silver chalices mounted with rubies from the Demoiselle. Richard of Gloucester had sent them a silk Oriental carpet brought back from the last Crusade, and Harry of Almaine gifted them with a full set of Cornish pewter for their dining hall.

  After the gifts came the banquet, with one course following another until even the staunchest trenchermen were replete. During the entire meal, Rosamond was aware of her husband's possessive eyes upon her. Today his face had a hungry look, as if he were ready to devour her, and it did nothing to quiet her inner turmoil. She did not know which she dreaded most, the bedding ceremony, or the inevitable conflict that would follow when they were alone. With resolution she put both out of her mind, recklessly drained her goblet of wine, and smiled.