Rose Red

by Speer, Flora

  “I have not begun to have all I want from you,” Andrea told her. “Would it resolve your doubts on that subject if I bedded you again?” With a swift movement that gave Rosalinda no hint of what he was planning to do, Andrea grabbed the shears from her and tossed them onto the ground. An instant later, he scooped Rosalinda into his arms. The basket of herbs landed beside the shears, scattering fragrant greenery across the garden path.

  Rosalinda fought him, but Andrea was determined to prove to her how much he wanted her. He would take her to her bedchamber and make passionate love to her. When she lay quivering with passion beneath him, perhaps she would believe that he wanted to marry her because he loved her.

  But when he reached the terrace steps, Lorenzo was there before him, blocking his way. Andrea hesitated for a moment. As if she sensed a chance to escape from his unwanted embrace, Rosalinda continued to fight, kicking and squirming while Andrea tried to deal with the man-at-arms.

  “I will not hurt her,” Andrea promised Lorenzo. “But I do not think there is any other way to make this stubborn girl listen to me. I do assure you, my intentions are completely honorable.”

  “Lorenzo, help me!” Rosalinda hit out at Andrea with both fists at once. He almost dropped her, but then he tightened his hold, securing her against his chest.

  “Surely, Lorenzo, you have quarreled with Maria from time to time,” Andrea said.

  “That I have.” Lorenzo’s searching gaze moved from Rosalinda’s flailing fists and angry face to Andrea’s calmer expression. He moved aside, letting Andrea proceed toward the terrace and the house.

  “Lorenzo, you traitor!” Rosalinda screamed over Andrea’s shoulder.

  “She will thank you for this tomorrow, Lorenzo.” On those words, Andrea kicked open the sitting room door. Once inside, he set Rosalinda on her feet.

  She was a remarkably lovely sight. During her struggles, the hat had slipped to the back of her neck, where it hung from the ribbons tied beneath her chin. Her glorious hair was loosened from its single braid, tiny curls forming a dark, shiny halo around her head. Rosalinda’s lips trembled, and her eyes were filled with angry tears.

  Andrea reached out to untie the hat ribbons. She slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me!” she cried.

  “I can see in your eyes that you want me as much as I want you,” he said. “Why won’t you admit what you are feeling?”

  “Because you don’t love me. You used me, Andrea. You did not tell me the truth about yourself until Vanni said too much and you were forced to admit who you are. Worst of all, you made a bargain with my mother that treated me like a piece of merchandise.”

  “I have explained to you that at the time, I was a fortuneless exile.” Andrea spoke with all the patience he could muster, given his rising passion. Holding Rosalinda in his arms had almost undone him. He was not sure how much longer he could restrain himself. “That bargain with your mother was the only hope I had of making you mine.”

  “It was the only hope you had of getting your dukedom back,” she said with quiet certainty. “If you had made the bargain for my sake, you would have told me about it. But you didn’t.” On that, she walked out of the room.

  “You foolish little—” Andrea took a deep breath, trying to control himself while knowing his self-control was near its end. He followed Rosalinda into the hall, catching up with her just as she reached the stairs that led upward to her bedchamber. Again he lifted her into his arms. This time, she did not fight him, not until they were safely away from the steps and he was shouldering open the door to her room.

  Maria was there, putting away some clothing. With Rosalinda’s old russet wool doublet in her hands, Maria gaped at Andrea, and at the woman who was once more pounding at his shoulders with clenched fists.

  “Maria, do something!” Rosalinda cried. “This barbarian brute won’t put me down.”

  “Maria,” Andrea told the maid, “go and find Lorenzo. He will answer your questions.”

  “But my lord,” Maria gasped, “what are you going to do to Rosalinda?”

  “I am going to make love to her,” Andrea responded, heading for the bed. “Right now. This instant. It’s up to you whether you want to stay and watch us or not.”

  “Oh!” Rosalinda’s screech of outrage was punctuated by the sound of her bedroom door closing as Maria fled the room. “Andrea, how could you?”

  “Sometimes, bears are forced to resort to desperate measures,” Andrea said.

  Whatever Rosalinda might have said in response was stopped by Andrea’s mouth on hers. She fought him, but not for long. Her lips softened under his, and the fists that had been pounding at his chest unclenched until her hands were flat against his shoulders.

  “Sometimes,” Andrea murmured a short time later, “bears themselves become desperate when their desire is thwarted for too long.”

  “I can’t let you do this,” Rosalinda wept. “I won’t.” But her head fell back, allowing him free access to her throat and to the tender area just above the neckline of her gown. Andrea’s arms tightened around her. She shuddered in mounting pleasure.

  “I knew you wanted me. I was sure you wouldn’t resist for long.” Andrea’s voice was filled with the triumph he felt at her eager response to what he was doing.

  “Yes, you are very sure of yourself, aren’t you, Andrea? Your self-confidence may well be your greatest fault.” Her mood swung from desire back to rage so swiftly that Andrea released her in surprise when she grabbed his hair and began to pull it. She was now standing in front of him, both hands wound into his thick hair, pulling hard. Her eyes were blazing with anger, and with another violent passion that Andrea fully understood because it matched his own need.

  Reacting out of that need, he shoved her on both shoulders, not pushing hard, but just firmly enough to make her sit down on the foot of her bed. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her, letting her feel his desire, letting his tongue move slowly but forcefully into her mouth.

  The fingers at his scalp relaxed. Her emotions already aroused, Rosalinda began to respond to his renewed kisses, as he had been sure she would. But Andrea was faced with a serious problem. His own desire had reached a crucial point. He simply could not wait any longer. With a trembling hand he reached down to pull her skirts up to her hips. Her thighs were soft and warm when he spread them so he could stand closer to her, and the place between them was moist and ready when Andrea touched her there. He groaned, suddenly frozen with uncontrollable need, afraid to move or to continue caressing her.

  “Oh, Andrea.” Rosalinda seemed to recognize how desperate his condition was. Her hands worked at his clothing, freeing him, pulling him toward her. “I don’t care what happens later, or what your real feelings are. I’m tired of fighting what I want. I want you. I want you now. Come to me, Andrea.”

  Her legs still dangling over the edge, she fell backward on the bed. Immediately, Andrea answered her invitation. With an ecstatic moan, he plunged into her heated softness. Braced on rigid arms above her, he watched as rapture overtook Rosalinda. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her lips parted on a sigh, her cheeks were flushed, and her every feature was softened by sweet desire. Andrea barely had time to think how beautiful she was before his own rampant desire overcame him. In an uncontrollable response to the way her body was tightening around him in repeated ripples of fulfillment, Andrea moved, stroking into her just once. A gust of fierce heat shook him and he exploded, pouring himself into Rosalinda, filling her and completing himself in an act of possession and love.

  It took a few minutes for him to realize that he was still on his feet, braced over Rosalinda, with her legs wrapped around him. She lay on the bed, watching him with an expression that was definitely softer and far more tender than the coldness with which she had first greeted him in the garden. It occurred to Andrea that there was much to be said for untrammeled sexual desire, especially when the woman was as eager as Rosalinda had been.

  Her ea
gerness meant that, whatever she said on the subject, her tender feelings for him were unchanged. Rosalinda would never give herself to a man she did not love. Surely, the pleasure they had just shared would prove to her that he loved her, too. Certain that any remaining problems between them could easily be resolved, Andrea let himself collapse beside her on the bed.

  “We never even removed our clothes,” he said, running a gentle finger along her chin. With equal gentleness he turned her face toward his. “I love you, Rosalinda. How could you have doubted it?”

  “I have told you why. And you have never said that you love me, until now.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Andrea kissed it away.

  “Did you really expect me to know what was in your mind?” she asked. “If you did, then you have been a bigger fool than I.”

  Stung by the accuracy of her words, Andrea did not bother to answer her. Instead, he put his mouth on hers. When she did not fight him, he slowly deepened the kiss. It had, after all, been more than three months since they had lain together in an alpine meadow, and Andrea was a young and vigorous man. Rolling over, he pinned her upper body beneath his while he began to inch her skirts upward. He would pull the loose dress off over her head so he could touch and caress her wherever he wanted. He would prove to her how much he loved her, prove it beyond any question. Before Rosalinda left her bedchamber, she would know that Andrea was hers completely. And she would know that she was his.

  She caught at his hand as he tugged on her skirt and petticoat, stopping him for a long moment while she gazed into his eyes. Then, with a little sigh of surrender, she took her hand away. Andrea pushed her clothing to her waist... and stopped, staring at her exposed body in disbelief.

  For a long time, he could say nothing. He could only gape at the rounded abdomen beneath which his child lay. He knew Rosalinda well enough to be absolutely certain the child she carried was his.

  “When I saw you standing in the garden in this loose dress, you did look as if you had gained weight,” he said when he was finally able to speak. “But your face is so thin that I thought it was an illusion, because the dress has no waistline. And just a few minutes ago, I imagined your bunched-up dress and petticoat caused the bulge I noticed.” Passion forgotten for the moment, Andrea drew apart from her, watching her reaction to his growing rage at her deception.

  “You weren’t going to tell me about this miraculous secret, were you?” he said in an accusing tone. “Yet you were angry with me for not revealing my family name to strangers, at a time when I was in danger of my life? For shame, Rosalinda! What is fair for you ought to be fair for me, too! How dare you complain of my actions?”

  “I had good reason for what I did,” she declared. Seeing the outraged expression on his face, she added, “It seemed like a good reason to me.”

  “Did it?” Andrea’s voice was dangerously smooth. “And what reason was that, Rosalinda?”

  “I was determined not to be forced into marriage with a man who did not love me. Bianca and I once made a vow that we would insist upon love from our prospective husbands.”

  “I do love you.”

  “But you have never said it until today,” she responded.

  Andrea longed to scold her, to tell her how wrong she had been to doubt him. But, looking deep into Rosalinda’s troubled, frightened eyes, he knew he would have to rein in his righteous anger over her actions or else chance losing her forever. Perhaps, from Rosalinda’s point of view, she had just cause to wonder if he was using her for his own selfish ends. With that thought in mind, Andrea modulated his voice and tried to sound more sympathetic than he actually felt.

  “This is why you ran away from Monteferro, isn’t it? This is a secret that cannot remain hidden much longer, unless you disappear into these mountains, to this place where no one will reveal what you do not want known.

  “Do you hate me so much that you would keep my own child from me?” he asked, some of his anger seeping through his rigid control. “How could you betray our love, and imperil our child’s future, by not telling me about this?”

  “I did it because I will not marry a man who does not love me,” she said with a stubborn set to her mouth and chin.

  “How many times do I have to say it? God in heaven, woman, when will you believe me?” Despite his good intentions, Andrea’s patience slipped and his voice rose. “Since the first day I saw you on a mountain trail, while you still imagined I was a bear, you have been the only woman for me. You proved the truth of my belief when you alone were willing to help me out of a snowstorm and into the light and warmth of your home.

  “Everything I have done since that winter night has been done with the hope of proving my love for you and of making you my wife. I risked my life to make your mother’s dream for Bianca a reality, in the belief that once Bianca was Duchess of Monteferro, Eleonora would permit our marriage.

  “All of this I have done for you, Rosalinda, and still you do not believe I love you. So be it.” Andrea withdrew his gaze from hers to look at the creamy mound of skin beneath his hand. His fingers moved on Rosalinda’s abdomen in a tender caress.

  “I have been wrong about you, haven’t I?” Rosalinda whispered, sounding as frightened as the look in her eyes.

  “Completely wrong,” Andrea said, still caressing that lovely mound of flesh. “Bartolomeo claims that you greatly resemble your father, but I now have proof that deep in your soul you are every bit as stubborn as your mother. And sometimes every bit as wrong as she can be.”

  “Bianca said much the same thing,” Rosalinda told him.

  “I am sure your sister is right. She seems to be a surprisingly good judge of human nature. Which means that I shall have to reconcile myself to living with an impetuous, stubborn, difficult woman. Unless, of course, you intend to ruin the life of this babe who might one day be Duke of Aullia by refusing to marry his father before he is born. In Aullia,” Andrea said sternly, “bastards cannot inherit.”

  “I did worry about that detail,” Rosalinda said.

  “Ah, I see. To add to all your other faults, you are now confessing a taste for gambling. Because you lacked faith in me, you put our child’s future at risk.” He kept his voice stern, but there was a growing warmth in Andrea’s heart.

  “I am sorry,” she said. “I had to be certain of your love. I will marry you, Andrea.”

  “Will you?” He longed to take her into his arms again, but before he did, there were concessions he was determined to wring from this willful, fiercely independent, and altogether enchanting woman he loved. “You must understand, Rosalinda, that from time to time I will be preoccupied with matters of state, as I have been over the past few weeks. When I am thus occupied, I will not have the freedom in which to pay as much attention to you as you might wish. It is a great honor for me to rule the city my father once held. I intend to repair the damage the Guidi family has done to Aullia, and then to preserve the city in peace and prosperity for our children and grandchildren. More, I want the descendants of the ordinary citizens of Aullia to inherit peace and a chance for a decent life. My preoccupation with these concerns will not mean that I do not love you. I will require your understanding, Rosalinda. And your help, for I cannot do it alone.”

  “I will have to live in a city,” Rosalinda said, sighing.

  “Aullia is closer to the mountains than Monteferro is,” Andrea said. “From the duke’s private suite of rooms, there is a wide view of the same mountains you see from Villa Serenita. Of course, from Aullia, you will look at the other side of those mountains.”

  “That might be an interesting change,” Rosalinda said. Then, more cheerfully, “Bianca told me there is a large garden surrounding the palace.”

  “It’s more like a wild park, certainly not as carefully tended as the ducal gardens at Monteferro. But then, the entire court at Aullia is much less formal than the court at Monteferro. You may do as you like with the garden,” he promised.

  “I shall have to call on my moth
er for help,” she murmured with a mischievous glance at him.

  “I was afraid of that. Ah, well, perhaps if Eleonora visits us, so will Francesco.”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised.” Rosalinda sobered, thinking. “Our children,” she said, very softly.

  “Our legal children, my love. It does appear that you are compelled to marry me for their sake.”

  “I suppose so.” Again she sighed.

  “As soon as possible, Rosalinda.” Andrea could not tell from her manner whether she was pleased or unhappy at his insistence. He decided to continue to be firm with her, while he instructed her in exactly what he would expect from his duchess. But before he could begin his lecture, she caught his hand and pressed it down hard on her abdomen.

  “Do you feel it?” she asked. “There it is again. The baby is moving.”

  “I feel it.” Stern intentions forgotten, Andrea stared, awe-stricken, at the place his hand was covering. Tears prickled at his eyelids. He did not care if he wept. The life beneath his hand was a miracle forged out of love. And suddenly it no longer mattered to him whether Rosalinda was a perfect duchess or not, so long as she was his Rosalinda, wild and tender and loving, the kind of woman who would rescue a bear from a snowstorm and give the frozen creature shelter. But he did harbor a new fear.

  “Do you think I hurt him, before?” Andrea whispered.

  “I cannot think love will ever hurt a child,” Rosalinda answered. “Andrea, do you remember Ginevra, Giuseppe’s wife? They have two children, and she is having another at Christmas, near to the same time when our child will be born. Well, Ginevra told me one day that Giuseppe makes love to her regularly until just a few weeks before their babies are born, and she claims to have the easiest births and the healthiest babies of any woman here at the villa.

  “So you see, Andrea, you will have to make love to me again if you want a healthy son for your heir.” Reaching out to him she touched him with a delicately searching fingertip. “I do wish you would remove your clothes.”