The Pleasure of the Rose

by Jane Bonander

  When he got to Rosalyn’s door he rapped on it with his knuckles.

  “Yes?” she answered from within.

  “Would you like some breakfast?”

  There was a long pause, then she answered, “Only if you have coffee. Otherwise I don’t want to see you at all today.”

  He opened the door, slipping inside as he closed it behind him. When he turned toward the bed, she was gaping at him.

  “What on earth?”

  He yawned and stretched, flexing his muscles again. Noting her stunned puzzlement, he said in a most serious tone, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I often laze about nude on Sundays. It gives my body a chance to breathe from all those scratchy, uncomfortable clothes you’ve provided for me.”

  Her gaze went from his groin to his face and then back again before she looked away. He forced himself not to become aroused, focusing on things that kept him level, like his escape from the stockade or hunting, for that would defeat his purpose, at least for now.

  His wife scooted out of bed, wrapped herself in her dressing gown, and marched past him to the door. She flung it open with a flourish. “Out.”

  “But I just got here, Rosalyn.”

  She was breathing hard and her eyes glittered angrily. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but whatever it is, it won’t work. Not with me. Not now, not ever.”

  He frowned. “But I didn’t mean anything, Rosalyn. I simply explained to you that I often spend my Sundays exactly like this.”

  “If you don’t get out of here right now, I’ll call for…for…”

  “For who? Barnaby? Or the master of the castle?” He put his fingers to his lips and inhaled sharply. “Oh, that’s right. I’m the master. I don’t think anyone would dare throw me out of my own home, do you?”

  She made a loud, exasperated noise in her throat. “Fine.” She stepped to her wardrobe and pulled out a day gown. “The place is yours. I won’t stand in the way of your debauchery. Obviously, this is something you have inherited from your grandfather. Maybe, like him, you’ll end up deader than a rodent killed by a cat and we can cart you out of here on a slab.”

  He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. “You’ve threatened that before, madam.”

  “And I’m threatening you again, you savage. Now get out!”

  He raised his hands in defeat. “As you wish, madam. I suppose we won’t be breakfasting together, then.”

  Her expression was priceless. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes were huge blue orbs of fear and disbelief. “Not even you would let the servants see you like this.”

  He stroked his chin and said, “Well, maybe I’ll wear my dressing gown when I’m out and about, but,” he added, smiling slyly, “when it’s the two of us, Rosalyn, this is the way I’ll be dressed—or undressed—all day long.”

  “Out!”

  He bowed low and let himself out, feeling the breeze from the door as it slammed soundly behind him. He allowed himself a wicked laugh as he went back to his own chamber.

  • • •

  Rosalyn was already halfway out the door when Annie called after her that her breakfast was ready. “Give it to His Grace,” she said, then added to herself, “and put some rat poison in it.”

  She walked so fast to Fen’s cottage that by the time she arrived she was perspiring and breathing as if she’d run all the way.

  Fen opened the door and took a step back. “My God, Roz, what’s wrong?”

  Rosalyn pushed her way into the cottage and began to pace.

  “Roz?”

  She turned to Fen, her arms crossed over her chest. “Do you know what that savage just did?”

  Fen drew her into her small salon and forced her to sit down. “Tell me.”

  Rosalyn pressed a hand to her heart and breathed in deeply to catch her breath. “He showed up in my bedchamber this morning, stark naked.”

  Fen expelled a sharp laugh. “What? Why?”

  “Oh, he’s a clever bastard, he is. Just last night he practically wooed the britches off me. He got me so ready for him that I went to my chamber and prepared myself for him. Prepared to finally give myself to him like the good wife I am.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Nothing happened! Absolutely nothing.”

  Fen thought for a moment. “That is odd, I’ll grant you that.”

  “He’s simply throwing my own words back into my face.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were married on a Sunday, remember? That night, I told him I would have one day a week to myself. One day when he couldn’t pressure me into having relations.”

  “You mean, having sex?”

  Rosalyn made a face. “Of course that’s what I mean.”

  “And what day did you choose, Roz?”

  She exhaled sharply. “Because I wanted time to grow accustomed to the entire situation, I told him we would not have any sexual relations on Sunday. Any Sunday. All day long.”

  Fen threw back her head and laughed. “So, if I’m hearing this right, he seduced you madly last night without consummating your marriage, and this morning he honorably did your bidding.”

  “But he paraded around me naked, Fen. He was teasing me.”

  “Well of course he was teasing you, you naïve thing.” She gave Rosalyn a sly look. “And what did you observe?”

  Rosalyn felt herself blush. “He is finely made.”

  “Ha! I’ll just bet he is. And did it arouse you?”

  “No, not really, I was too angry to be aroused.”

  “But I’ll bet it wouldn’t have taken him long to thaw you out, dear,” Fen mused.

  “Not today. I’m too angry and, if you must know, humiliated.”

  Fen gave her a warm smile. “Oh, my dearest. This is the kind of courtship that should go into a novel.”

  “Ha! Who would read such a thing?” She followed Fen into the kitchen where Fen had made up a cot with a pillow and soft blankets. On the stove sat a huge pot, steam rolling from it that had the odor of something medicinal.

  “Did you know that our fine doctor has left the island for good?” Fen asked.

  Rosalyn glanced at her. “Really? Whatever possessed him to leave?”

  “I heard he was offered something on another island where he was promised a finer house with servants. Good riddance, I’d say.”

  “So that means you’ll be busier than ever, doesn’t it? Oh, good,” Rosalyn answered. “I’ll help you all I can. After all, I don’t really want to spend any more time in my husband’s company than I have to.”

  Fen bustled around the kitchen, preparing them coffee. She motioned to the small kitchen table and Rosalyn took a seat. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Rosalyn felt an immediate wave of discomfort. “About what?”

  Fen didn’t answer immediately, but studied Rosalyn a long moment before she said, “Has His Grace told you about his siblings?”

  Something like a fist hit Rosalyn in the stomach. “His what?”

  “Oh, dear,” Fen answered. “So he hasn’t told you that he has two brothers and a sister. I thought he would have by this time.”

  Rosalyn threw her hands up and yelped, the sound filled with frustration and astonishment. “He has siblings? And how is it that you know this, Fen?”

  Fen screwed up her face. “Your brother stopped here on his way off the island. He said that after his business was done in Edinburgh, he was going to pick them up. Apparently they’re landing soon.”

  Rosalyn fought a building sense of panic. “And when was I supposed to learn of this?”

  Fen sighed. “Geddes thought His Grace would have mentioned them to you by now so that you would be prepared, both emotionally and physically, when they arrived. I suppose either he or I could have told you, but your brother truly felt it was His Grace’s responsibility.”

  Rosalyn paced. “I don’t know how to react to this.” She stopped and stared at Fen. “When do you suppose he
was going to say something? When they were at the castle doorstep? And how old are these children, anyway? Will they need special care?” She expelled an exasperated huff.

  “Your brother didn’t tell me, Roz, I don’t know. I do know there is also a chaperone with them, someone who travels with them to secure their safety.”

  Rosalyn plopped down at the table again, stunned. “By the saints, if anything could take the wind out of my sails it’s this news. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m still angry with him, but this rather changes a lot of things, doesn’t it?”

  “I know you’ll make all the right decisions, dear. You always do, you know?”

  Rosalyn gave her a wan smile. “Aye, so you tell me. But this time I haven’t got a clue as to how to proceed.”

  • • •

  Fletcher was in the study, wrapped in his dressing gown like he’d promised, when the door flew open and banged against the wall. Rosalyn stood there, and if he had had to describe her stance, he would have said she was battle ready.

  She closed the door and strode up to the desk, her hands on her hips. “You have siblings.”

  Fletcher grimaced. “I suppose I should have mentioned it.”

  “Well, when were you going to tell me? After they arrived?”

  “Sit down, Rosalyn.”

  She ignored him and continued to stand in front of him, breathtakingly beautiful in her ire.

  “Sit down, and I’ll tell you the whole story, all right?”

  She exhaled deeply and took a chair in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t wait to hear this,” she murmured.

  He told her the whole story. How he felt he had abandoned them, how he had threatened Geddes that he wouldn’t go with him unless they were found and brought over. How he worried every day that some ill had happened to them, and if it had, it would be his fault and he would pay for it in eternity.

  “How old are they, and what are their names?” Rosalyn’s voice was softer now that she understood.

  “Duncan is the oldest—he’s my half-brother. He is nearly fifteen. Gavin is fourteen. My father took him in after his family’s ranch was burned to the ground. He found him hiding in a root cellar, nearly starving. The youngest is Kerry.” He smiled, thinking of that sweet girl, his baby sister, his lifeline to the others. “She’s twelve and beautiful.”

  He paused a moment and then said, “If anything should happen to them, not only would I be devastated, but my guilt at my behavior during the years after my father died would kill me. I lived my life my way, Rosalyn. It wasn’t the best way, it wasn’t even the way I really wanted it. I became self-destructive. Maybe I even willed my own arrest, I don’t know.” Suddenly he asked, “How did you know about them?”

  She raised a sardonic eyebrow in his direction. “Apparently you were supposed to do that. I had to hear of their existence from Fen, who, I’m told, heard it from Geddes. And also, it appears that Geddes is on his way to retrieve them from the ship.”

  Fletcher’s heart soared and he stood. “They’re going to be here? How soon?”

  “That I don’t know,” she answered, and then rose from her chair as well. “But since we are to have three more people in the castle, I should guess it’s time to air out the west wing and prepare bedchambers for all of them, don’t you think?”

  Fletcher blinked hard, trying to keep the moisture from collecting in his eyes. God, he was so happy he didn’t know what to do with himself. Without a thought, he came out from behind the desk to where Rosalyn stood and pulled her into his arms.

  “They’re coming here, Rosalyn. Oh, God, how I’ve worried about them. You have no idea what remorse I’ve carried around since I was imprisoned and lost contact. If something had happened to them, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself.”

  She looked up at him and brought her fingers to his cheek. “You’re crying, Your Grace.”

  “Hell, yes,” he admitted. “I’m happy. The happiest day of my life will be when I see their beautiful faces again. You will love them, Rosalyn, I know you will.”

  “But will they take to me?”

  “They will love you as well. Especially Kerry. She needs a woman around, I would think, after all the years of watching out for her brothers.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Did you think I wouldn’t warm to the idea?”

  He thought for a moment. “No, I never believed that. When you’re treated properly, you have a generous heart, Rosalyn.”

  “And when you’re not acting like a savage, you act almost human, my husband.” She gave him an impish smile.

  Arousal rose up, deep and hard, and his heart began to pound. He bent and kissed her, tasting her sweetness, his thirst for her unbearable. She responded by pressing her palms flat against his naked chest.

  She shuddered against him. “’Tis Sunday, Fletcher.”

  “Are you going to put up a fight, my dear wife?” he murmured against her ear.

  Her breathing was erratic. “I’m not sure I have much fight left in me.” Her hands were at his waist and she fumbled with the tie of his dressing gown, finally releasing it. It fell open and she pressed herself against him.

  “I could take you right now, right here,” he threatened.

  “And you had better do it, for I am on fire, and if you don’t do something about it, I might burst into flames and burn the place down.”

  He took her hand and nearly dragged her to the chaise lounge. “I want you astride. I want to feel myself deep inside you.” He laid down, his head resting on the back, and started to pull her to him.

  “Wait.” She shimmied out of her drawers.

  Before she straddled him, he lifted her gown and petticoats and gazed at the luscious patch of wheat-colored fur at the apex of her thighs. “I knew you would be fair here,” he almost whispered. He dipped a finger inside, finding her ready, and before her knees buckled, he lifted her onto him.

  They rode together and he watched as she threw her head back, her face bathed in a light sheen of perspiration and her cheeks pink. She was spectacular and she was his. He grabbed her hips and guided her, gathering the rhythm, and not until he saw her mouth open in rapturous pleasure did he allow his own seed to be released.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Over the next week, Rosalyn and the maids prepared the three bedchambers for Fletcher’s family. They brought clean blankets out of storage, scented with lavender, cloves and pepper between the folds to keep them fresh. They scrubbed floors, walls, and brass bedsteads, shook rugs, and put an oil lamp in each room. Annie and her sister chattered incessantly, wondering what the children would be like, if they would be handsome like their brother, if they would take to the island girls (the boys, of course), and if the girl would be as beautiful as an Indian princess.

  Rosalyn hadn’t had time to dwell on such things; she was still thinking about the escapade in the library. So much for her staunch vow and her angry threats, she thought. There was much about her husband she didn’t understand, but she was discovering a depth of character she had only imagined might be there, under all of that wild and reckless behavior.

  One week after the lovely library liaison, after a light meal, they said goodnight on the landing. Disappointed, Rosalyn went her chamber and prepared for bed. She didn’t know what she had expected, but for her, the evening had ended too quickly.

  After she had changed into her nightclothes, she sat in her wing chair with her feet tucked under her and began to read.

  There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called softly.

  Fletcher entered.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, laying her book down on the table beside her.

  “Rosalyn, I want you to tell me about your life.” He stood before her, tall, handsome, and serious.

  Surprised, she asked, “What about my life?”

  He glanced down and then met her stare. “I can’t understand you if I don’t know about you, about your marriage and…everyth
ing.”

  Her gaze dropped and she felt the old anguish. “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that. Let me hear it one time, Rosalyn, and then I promise you I will never bring it up or ask about it ever again.”

  She drew in a breath, expelling it loudly. “I suppose you deserve that.”

  “I think I do.” He took her hand and gently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

  Rosalyn took another deep breath. “I met Leod Marshall in Edinburgh at a charity function. His family owned a cannery and was moderately wealthy. He was also very handsome and charming.”

  She closed her eyes briefly against the memories that washed over her. “He wooed me and we married within six months.” She gave Fletcher a rueful smile. “Not against my better judgment either—I was eager to wed.”

  Things had gone well at first. Leod worked hard and was often gone in the evenings. She had prepared herself for that, because the cannery was now in his care since his father died.

  “I got pregnant quickly.” She glanced at Fletcher and gave him a sad smile. “Which should be good news for you, I suspect.”

  He squeezed her hand but said nothing.

  Rosalyn went on to tell him about how, after a few months, Leod became secretive. She couldn’t reach him at the cannery when she needed to, and she didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.

  “We had trouble keeping help, which I didn’t understand because I tried very hard not to be overly critical or demanding.” She shook her head. “But the girls, some of them very young and others with babies of their own, rarely stayed more than a couple of weeks. Except for our cook, Marvella.”

  She noted Fletcher’s frown. “Yes, it’s the same Marvella who works for you now. Geddes brought her here after—well, you’ll find out.”

  “Why? Because Leod had died? ” he asked.

  “You’ll understand in a while,” she answered cryptically.

  About six months into the marriage, Rosalyn discovered that Leod often lied to her about his whereabouts. Quite accidentally she learned he spent time with a mistress. Although she wasn’t happy about it, she realized that many men did similar things and she was pregnant anyway, so it caused her little real concern.