Rose Red

by Speer, Flora

  “So we could.” He caught the reins of both horses in one hand, put an arm across Rosalinda’s shoulders, and walked with her to the spot she had indicated. He looked around, nodding his approval of her selection. “I have so much to tell you.”

  “I have a lot to tell you, too. And many questions to ask.” While Andrea secured the horses, Rosalinda moved out of the sunshine into deep shade. She was trying to decide what to ask him first, and whether to reveal to him her belief that she was with child, when Andrea forestalled any remarks she might have made. He came toward her with his arms open, inviting her to enter his embrace. The loneliness of recent months receded, and all the questions crowding her mind suddenly seemed unimportant. She went to him gladly, lifting her face for his kiss.

  Andrea’s mouth seared across hers, his tongue forcing her lips apart. Rosalinda made no protest at this treatment; she only held him tighter. He could not stop kissing her. He covered her face, her throat, her hands with kisses, and after he had kissed and nibbled on each finger, he pulled her sleeves higher so he could press his lips to her wrists and elbows as well.

  “Rosalinda, it has been too long since last I saw you. During all that time, I have not so much as looked at another woman, and now I want you so badly that I cannot think of anything but you.”

  She caught his face between her hands to look at him, to recall each beloved feature and realize that she had forgotten nothing about this man during his absence. He was a bit thinner than he had been in March, his muscles were harder, and there was a new, steely air of assurance about him, but basically he was the same. Her Andrea. Her love.

  She pulled at the fastenings of his doublet, loosening the garment and pushing it off his shoulders. She pulled up his linen shirt to lay her cheek against his bare chest. When, in response to his soft urging, she let her hands stray downward, she discovered that he was already huge, and she could feel his heat through the cloth that barely contained his eagerness. At this physical evidence of his desire for her, her own passionate needs overcame her.

  They tore at each other’s clothes until all their garments lay mingled together on the fir needles of the forest floor. Andrea reached down to spread out the discarded clothes. Then he lifted Rosalinda, holding her against his heart as he sank to his knees and laid her on the clothing.

  “Rosalinda,” he whispered, making poetry of her name, “I have dreamed of you every night. Rosalinda, my beautiful, blushing rose, why are your cheeks so red? Surely, you are not embarrassed? I have seen you unclothed before.”

  “That was by the light of one candle,” she said. “Now I can see all of you very clearly, and you can see me.”

  “I see beauty, and the warmest, kindest heart I have ever known.”

  “And I see my own dear bear,” she whispered with a tender smile. “But I am sure you have grown since that night. I do not remember that part of you as being quite so large.”

  “Perhaps,” he said with a knowing look, “you do not remember because that part of me was buried deep in you for most of our time together, so you could not see it.”

  “I don’t think you should say things like that.” She was shocked and yet excited by the memory his words conjured.

  “No? Then I will let my actions speak what you will not permit me to say.” His fingertips found her nipples and teased, gently pulling, circling, creating spirals of warmth that moved downward and deeper, into the very core of Rosalinda’s being. She shifted her legs and moved her hips, squirming under his attentions, restless for more, and still more. Her awareness of the rest of the world began to slip away, leaving her enclosed in a stand of fir trees, their trunks long and straight, their fallen needles fragrant beneath her.

  She heard the birds chirping, saw the fir branches swaying, and then the area within her comprehension contracted further still, including only the man who caressed her with eager hands, whose breath was ragged, whose manhood, as hard and straight as a tree trunk, pushed against her, filled her, sent her soaring among the highest green boughs. Andrea’s lips fastened on hers and would not let go. He thrust his tongue into her mouth again and again, matching each thrust of that other part of him until Rosalinda cried out even as he did, becoming one with him, accepting the scalding offering of his passion and returning it to him with all the love she had to give.

  They lay joined for a long time, Andrea still buried within her, Rosalinda wrapped around him with arms and legs and the twining hair he had loosened from her braid.

  “I could not wait until later,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I did not want you to wait,” she whispered back. “At the first moment I recognized you, this was what I wanted, too.

  “There is so much I ought to tell you,” she said when Andrea finally lay on his back staring up at the trees and she lay curled against him with her head on his chest.

  “Tell me later,” he murmured. “For this one peaceful hour, let me forget everything but you, and how happy I am to see you again.”

  “Will you visit Villa Serenita today?” she asked, unable to let all of her news wait.

  “It’s where I was going when I met you. There is a surprise awaiting you at the villa.”

  “I look forward to it, but meeting you here was the best surprise.” He rolled over, pinning her beneath him.

  “Actually, there are two surprises. And something important that I need to tell you.”

  “I tremble to imagine what your mother has in store for me,” he teased, nibbling at her earlobe as he spoke.

  “You are going to like the surprises very much.” She wished she could be sure he would like what she had to tell him as much as he would enjoy seeing his brother and Francesco alive and well. Determined to be completely honest with him, she opened her lips to speak about the child she was certain she was carrying. Once again, he prevented her.

  “Wench, will you be quiet?” he said, still teasing her. “For the next hour, I don’t want to think about anything but Rosalinda and Andrea.”

  “You are going to be so excited,” she said.

  “Thanks to the way you are wiggling around beneath me, I am already excited.” He demonstrated that he was speaking only the truth. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

  “You are a hard man, Andrea.” Rosalinda choked back a giggle.

  “And growing harder by the moment,” he observed. “It has become obvious to me that the only way to keep you quiet is by torturing you into silence. Now, where shall I begin?”

  “Do you actually expect me to assist you in this painful endeavor?” she demanded in mock resistance.

  “I intend to extract your full cooperation,” he threatened, placing himself at the entrance to her body. “Nor will I be satisfied until you scream for mercy.”

  “Cruel, lustful man,” she gasped as he surged into her.

  “Dangerous, seductive woman,” he groaned, pushing deeper still.

  A short time later Rosalinda did scream, but not for mercy and, to her delight, Andrea’s cries were even louder than her own.

  * * * * *

  The shadows were growing long and purple across the little valley before Andrea tenderly picked the leaves and fir needles out of Rosalinda’s hair and helped her to dress.

  “I suppose we have no choice but to ride to the villa,” he murmured, putting his arms around her as if he could not bear to let her go. “I do not think we will have much time alone together once your mother sees me and begins asking questions about how well I have followed her orders. Let us savor these last few moments of peace.” He held her close for a long while, and Rosalinda did not protest.

  They rode toward Villa Serenita side by side until the path became too narrow. Then Rosalinda rode behind him and Andrea turned in his saddle every few minutes to smile at her. Rosalinda always smiled back, but her mind was busy. There were so many questions she wanted to ask Andrea, yet she had asked none of them…any more than Bianca had asked the important questions of Vanni. Like her sister, Rosalinda h
ad accepted her lover’s attentions, had given herself to him, and had postponed all questions, all doubts, all explanations, until later. In light of what she had done on this sunny afternoon, Rosalinda began to think of Bianca’s behavior with Vanni less as a betrayal and more as a foolish lapse brought on by passion.

  When they came down into the lowlands and had space to ride together again, Rosalinda moved her horse to Andrea’s side. He welcomed her presence with another of those warm smiles that delighted her heart. Then, seeing her face, he turned as serious as she was.

  “I want you to be prepared,” she said. “So much has happened since you left. There are things you ought to know before we reach the villa, including the nature of those surprises I mentioned earlier, and a few less pleasant events.”

  “Tell me,” Andrea ordered, speaking in the brisk, clipped fashion of a military commander. In his voice and face Rosalinda saw again the new toughness she had noticed on first meeting him, before passion and tenderness had overtaken them both. The alteration only enhanced the attraction of this man who, in many ways, remained a mystery to her.

  “The bad news first,” she said, pulling her thoughts away from all the things she still did not know about Andrea. “Niccolo Stregone has been here.” Matching her speech to his own brevity, she told him about her two meetings with Stregone. Andrea listened with a set face, saying nothing, but Rosalinda sensed the building anger in him.

  “The other news is far happier, with only one discordant note to it,” Rosalinda went on.

  “After the last tidbit, I will be glad of good news,” Andrea said, “but tell me about that discordant note first.”

  “I cannot tell you the one without revealing the other. Bianca and I are at odds because she betrayed me with your brother, thinking he was you.”

  ‘‘What?” Andrea reined in hard to stare at her. A joyous smile spread across his face. “The rumors I heard are true? Vanni is alive? Why didn’t you tell me before this?”

  “I did try,” she reminded him. “You would not hear a word. You wanted to make love.”

  “So I did. Am I to assume from your shocking statement that Vanni and Bianca have also made love?”

  “She says not – or at least, not completely, whatever that means.”

  “I can imagine what it means. Vanni is a formidable seducer when he puts his mind to it. Poor Bianca was probably overwhelmed by his charm.”

  “Andrea, she did this thing thinking Vanni was you! And you never told me that you and your brother are twins,” Rosalinda ended on an accusing note.

  “When I mentioned him to you, I thought Vanni was dead. It was all I could do to speak of him. The grief was too deep for words.” He grinned at her, that grief forgotten. “I trust Bianca has sorted us out, so she knows one brother from the other by now. I would rather be embraced by the sister with whom I am more familiar.”

  “This isn’t funny,” Rosalinda exclaimed.

  “No, it isn’t funny, it’s miraculous!” he cried. “It is the most wonderful news I could hear. The world is set right again. Rosalinda, my brother is alive! Vanni is alive!”

  “He was pleased to learn you are alive, too,” Rosalinda said. “Andrea, there is more. Francesco Bastiani is with him. They are both staying at the villa.”

  “Thank God! Rosalinda, you could give me no happier surprise than this.” Andrea threw back his head and let out a shout of joy followed by a burst of laughter. “Do you know what this means?”

  “What does it mean, Andrea?” Rosalinda had never seen Andrea so exuberant and yet, for all his open delight in the news she had given him, still there was that new toughness about him. She knew she ought to tell him her other piece of important news, that she was becoming more convinced every day that she was carrying his child, but she decided to wait. She would give him a chance to adjust to having Vanni back again, and then she would tell him. His next words confirmed her in her decision.

  “Vanni, Francesco, and I will conquer Aullia and Monteferro together,” Andrea exalted. “I shall have you, my wonderful Rosalinda, and if Vanni wants Bianca, your mother will not dare to refuse him. My brother and I will have all that we want, your mother’s wildest ambitions will be realized, and, as for Stregone, I promise you, he will pay for putting you into danger to rescue him from the river, and he’ll pay again for frightening you by the waterfall. Stregone will pay for every wicked crime he has ever committed.”

  “You leave me breathless,” she said, startled by his manner as much as by his ambitious promises. “Andrea, I have never seen you like this.”

  “Because I have never been like this. Today I am the happiest of men. Just think, Rosalinda! For almost a year, I have believed my brother dead, but he is alive. He is here, just a few miles away, and I will see him before the sun sets. And my dear friend, Francesco, too. And you love me, my beautiful Rosalinda. You told me you do, not an hour ago, while you lay in my arms. What more could any man ask than one true woman to love him, a beloved brother by his side, and an honest friend?”

  “What more, indeed?” Rosalinda murmured, unwilling to break into his joyful mood with her own concerns. “Except, perhaps, the answers to a few dozen nagging questions?”

  Chapter 16

  At the villa, Bianca and Vanni were on the terrace. Bianca held a basket of flowers that Vanni had been helping her to gather. The looks they gave each other and the smiles and low words they exchanged openly proclaimed the tender affection between the two.

  Rosalinda and Andrea entered the garden by the path from the stable. Andrea stopped at the sight of his brother, leaving Rosalinda to walk on for a few steps before she realized he was no longer with her. When she turned to him, the expression on Andrea’s face brought tears to her eyes.

  “Some part of me did not dare to believe your news until I saw him alive,” Andrea whispered. He held his saddlebag slung over one arm. Setting it down and opening the flap, he began to grope inside until he located what he wanted and pulled it forth. Rosalinda saw a flash of blue enamel and gold and recognized Vanni’s dagger. Andrea strode forward.

  “Vanni, that is a puny knife you are using to cut those flowers,” Andrea called. “I have a better one for you.” He held out the dagger, hilt first.

  “Andrea!” Vanni leapt off the terrace, jumping across all of the steps and falling into Andrea’s arms. So impetuous was Vanni’s embrace that Rosalinda grabbed the dagger out of Andrea’s hand just in time to prevent an accident. Vanni did not notice. He was laughing and weeping at the same time and pounding Andrea on the back. Andrea’s eyes were moist, his joy only slightly more restrained than his brother’s.

  The two of them made so much noise that Valeria looked out the sitting room door to see what was happening. She disappeared at once, only to reappear a short time later with Eleonora, Francesco, and Bartolomeo.

  “Francesco!” Andrea left his brother and ran up the steps onto the terrace, where his condottiere friend enfolded him in a tight bear hug.

  Rosalinda and Vanni followed Andrea to the terrace. While the three men embraced again and talked excitedly with Bartolomeo and Eleonora, Bianca approached Rosalinda.

  “How happy they are,” Bianca said. “I wish all brothers and sisters could live together in peace and take such pleasure in each other’s company.”

  “So do I.” Rosalinda slipped her arm around Bianca’s waist in the old, familiar gesture, not minding the basket of flowers Bianca still held, wanting only to let her sister know of her abiding affection in spite of their recent differences. “Perhaps, in time, you and I will regain that pleasure.”

  At Valeria’s suggestion, a long table was set up on the terrace so the evening meal could be served there. The cloth was of fine white linen, Bianca arranged some of the flowers she had gathered into a golden bowl for a centerpiece, and Rosalinda fixed wax tapers into a pair of five-armed gold candelabra so the diners would have light after the sun had set. Through the long, warm June twilight the eight of them sat about t
he table, their spirits high, eating, drinking Eleonora’s best wine, talking, and laughing.

  Andrea sat next to Rosalinda, his hand often touching hers, his nearness a source of pleasure to her in spite of the many questions and lingering doubts in her mind. She pushed both doubts and questions aside, refusing to consider them until another time. On this evening of reunion she would allow nothing to spoil Andrea’s happiness, or her own. They were together again. For the moment, that was all that mattered.

  All the others at the table seemed to feel the same way. Even Eleonora did not speak of the mission on which she had sent Andrea, instead spending much of her time conversing with Francesco, who sat at her right hand. Only after the meal was over and the servants had been sent away, when the cheerful company lingered beneath a star-strewn sky with a last bottle of wine and a dish of dried dates and figs for nibbling, only then did the conversation turn serious, and it was not Eleonora who began the discussion, but Francesco.

  “After listening to Madonna Eleonora and Bartolomeo describe their plans and your involvement in them,” Francesco said to Andrea, “I have decided to join you, if you will have me.”

  “I was hoping you would volunteer.” Andrea responded at once, looking pleased at Francesco’s offer.

  “I want to be included, too,” Vanni said. “You cannot keep me out of it.”

  “Of course you will be included.” Andrea grinned at his brother.

  “However,” said Francesco, “I think a change in plan would be wise.”

  “What change?” exclaimed Eleonora. “Andrea understands exactly what I want him to do, and I expect him to carry out my orders as we agreed.”

  “With the alteration I am suggesting, the end result will be the same,” Francesco told her, “but if we take Aullia first, it will then be easier to conquer Monteferro.”

  “How so?” Eleonora demanded with a frown.