Guy helped his mother down the steep stairway. “Shall I accompany you back to the tent?”
She smiled at him. “Nay, my boy. Off with you, but do not forget you are to joust with the king this afternoon. I shall applaud you anon.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “And I shall wear your favor.” He waved to Andrew and gave Rosie an exaggerated wink. “Come see Moonglow take the course this afternoon, sweetheart. I know how much you liked him.” Without waiting for her retort, he strode off toward the center of the English encampment.
Lady Alicia took Rosie’s hand in hers. “And just how did you find Guy’s precious horse, my dear?”
Rosie swallowed back what she really thought of the charcoal-gray brute. “He’s mickle big, my lady.”
She laughed lightly. “In case it has missed your notice, I do have large sons.” Then she bent down and kissed Rosie on the forehead.
Her kindness took Rosie completely by surprise. Her cheeks heated with shame. “Ye…you should not have done that, my lady,” she murmured, not looking at her. “I hain…am not worth an oyster to you.”
Lady Alicia cupped Rosie’s chin in her soft hand and smiled down at her with a wrenching tenderness in her eyes. “Oh, my dear child, you are worth far more than you can possibly imagine.” Then she gave herself a little shake and released the confused girl from her thrall. “La and a day, Andrew! I am gone. Take good care of this sweetling until we meet again. Reece!” she called to her bodyguard. “I expect you are wanting your dinner by now. Come!”
With another laugh and a girlish wave, the Countess of Thornbury departed. Andrew came down the steps one at a time, as if he carried an enormous burden on his shoulders.
“Are you tired, my lord?” Rosie asked him.
His serious expression melted into a brilliant smile. “Nay, lass, I am newborn this very moment. Great Jove, Rosie! You are a gladsome feast for my eyes.”
She wondered if he had drunk too much of Guy’s wine. Andrew gazed upon her with warm approval, the lines around his mouth curling with a new tenderness. She felt a curious swooping pull in her breast. Tis only hunger for me, and sunstroke for him.
Alicia’s revelation had opened Andrew’s eyes. Now that he knew who Rosie’s mother probably was, he saw the resemblance immediately. He had been an ass not to have caught it earlier, but he had never expected to chance upon a jewel in a dunghill. Rosie was the feminine image of her older brother. Andrew sighed. Lady Alicia had given him the task of telling that rascal. Andrew feared that the surprised brother would not take the news with good grace. In the meantime, Andrew resolved to redouble Rosie’s schooling. Since she was born to a gentle estate, the sooner she learned how to act like a lady, the more likely her brother would accept her.
Rosie put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Methinks your success has given you a headache. Do you want to lie down?”
Andrew swallowed hard at the suggestion. In all honesty, he wanted to lie next to her and teach her a number of unladylike things. Instead, he turned his smile up a notch. “I am as right as rain—if any ever falls on this wretched valley.” He hefted his purse of coins. “And I have something that begs to be spent, lest it burns a hole in my pouch. Jeremy!” He signaled his squire to join them.
Jeremy retrieved his spent arrows, then trotted over to his master. With a wink and a chuckle at the perspiring boy, Andrew drew a silver farthing from his prize money. The squire’s eyes widened when his master dropped the coin into his palm.
“You have done well this morning, my boy.” Andrew clapped the surprised youth on his back. “I decree that the rest of this most glorious day will be spent by all of us in the hearty pursuit of pleasure. Therefore, Jeremy, return my equipage to our domicile on winged feet, then spend this trifle on whatever pleases your fancy.”
Jeremy glanced at Rosie who shrugged her pretty shoulders. “Have you been too long in the sun, my lord?” the squire asked.
The boy’s stunned reaction only amused Andrew. Sweet mercy, twas good to be alive! “Nay, my little waterfly! I am invigorated by its torrid rays—and by the shining beauty who stands by my side.” He bowed to the bewildered Rosie. “Mark me now, Jeremy. We will attend to our own dinner, but, I pray you, do not return so pickled in drink that you cannot serve us a sumptuous supper. Now, be off with you, scamp!”
Jeremy grinned, bowed and took to his heels in a dead run.
With a chuckle, Andrew remarked to Rosie, “Methinks my good squire fears that I will come to my senses in short order, so he had best spend my largesse as quick as he can.”
Bafflement tinged her beautiful eyes. “Methinks this new fancy of yours is madder than the last, my lord. You gave him enough money to feed a poor family for a month.”
Andrew ignored the truth of her observation. He was in too good spirits to be pricked by his conscience. “Aye, but there are no poor families here, only we who have no cares in the world.”
Her lovely brow knitted into a frown. Andrew placed a finger across her delectable lips before she could utter another protest.
“Peace, sweet lady. If it is your desire to benefit the poor, than we shall do just that.” He gathered her hand in his. “Come, we shall lighten my purse and enrich a score of hardworking venders.”
He led her to the outer ring of the encampment where merchants from many countries had set up a bustling trade fair. Their first stop was the food stalls. In short order, they had tempered their noontime hunger with a delicious repast of pigeon pie, piping hot apple tartlets, a crock of snails in a light garlic sauce, a generous handful of cherries and a wedge of pale French cheese. They washed everything down with brimming mugs of ale. Dark slabs of spicy gingerbread studded with almonds rendered Rosie mute with delight. It pleased Andrew to watch her consume the simple fare with such gusto and enjoyment. The child must have been starved half her life. He vowed she would never again feel the sharp pangs of hunger. Her pleasure made his own food taste better.
Andrew wiped his hands and lips with his handkerchief, then passed it to Rosie and gestured that she follow suit. He did not point out the cherry stains on her bodice. Why spoil her day with needless anxiety?
He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Finished, my dear? Good, for my purse is still quite full and you have ordered me to empty it into the coffers of these poor purveyors and craftsmen.”
Rosie returned his handkerchief. “Nay, my lord, you mistook my meaning, but—”
He flourished the scrap of linen like a banner. “Say no more, my lady!” he bellowed so that several dozen people turned to stare at them. “I will take you this instant to the perfumers, and the glovers and the drapers!”
She gasped in the most delightful manner. “Haint ever—”
He held up his hand for silence. “Of course, 1 quite forgot! Our first visit must be to the jewelers! How could such an important destination have slipped my mind?”
Rosie tugged on his sleeve. “My lord!” she whispered. “You are attracting attention.”
Andrew looked around him and pretended to be surprised. He jumped up on the bench that had been their makeshift picnic table.
“What ho! Good people, I crave your indulgence and your most excellent judgment. Regard my lady.” He pointed to his blushing companion. “Such fine skin, such a bright eye, such rosy cheeks. But soft! Look you, my good friends! No bauble graces this fair swan’s neck! Not a pearl. Not an emerald. Not even a lowly garnet.” He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Alack and a day! What a churlish cad am I!”
“Sir Andrew!” Rosie pleaded in a whisper.
He cheerfully ignored her. “I admit it. I am a heartless brute.”
Rosie raised her voice. “Andrew, sit down, I pray ye.”
He chuckled at her slip, then he continued his address to the growing crowd. “A knavish, paper-faced pantaloon is what I am to have been so remiss. But, my lords and fair ladies, do you think I can amend this glaring fault? Will my sweet lady the
n forgive me?”
His audience cheered and several of the men shouted, “To it, my lord! Deck her proper!”
Rosie blushed a darker shade of pink. She bent her head and studied her hands in confusion. Andrew acknowledged the command of his audience, then he jumped down beside her.
“There, sweetheart. You have heard the vox populi—the voice of the people. I must take you forthwith to the nearest jeweler or I shall never again dare to show my face among this good company.” He took her hand. “Come along like a good girl, and pray, do not make a scene.”
Utter astonishment etched her pretty face, then she replied in a fierce whisper, “That was the grandest piece of tomfoolery that ever I clapped eyes on.”
He squeezed her hand. “Exactly!”
Andrew hummed a little tune as he all but pulled Rosie through the holiday crowds. “Now, if I were an enterprising seller of baubles and beads, where would I set up my booth?” he bantered. How utterly charming Rosie looked when she was completely mystified. He must mystify her more often.
He spied his neighbors. “Good day, Sir Jeffrey and Lady Karina! Gloriously hot, isn’t it? Lady Rosalind, here is Sir Jeffrey, a good friend and most excellent jouster.” Andrew whispered “Curtsy” under his breath.
Rosie executed a perfect reverence. He had to admit that she had learned that maneuver right well.
“My lord, my lady,” she murmured in a soft, dovelike tone.
After an exchange of a few more idle pleasantries, the Brownlows moved on. Rosie opened her mouth to say something, but Andrew forestalled her by spying the elder Cavendish brother.
“A pox on him,” Rosie muttered as Andrew dragged her over to Brandon. “These Cavendishes sprout out of the ground like weeds.”
“Smile, my dear! Brandon is your dearest friend and, by my beard—if I had one—it looks as if he has bought some fortunate young lady a pretty frippery. What ho, Brandon!”
The blond giant gave him a sick smile and attempted to hide the length of lace he had just purchased. Andrew swooped down on him, plucked the creamy bit of froth out of Brandon’s hand and made a great show of examining it.
“How now, my boy, what have we here? Do you plan to wear this in the tournament this afternoon?”
Brandon puffed out his cheeks with resignation. “Tis for a cheerful wench who has given me great pleas…” He coughed and looked at Rosie, “Your pardon, Lady Rosalind. A gentlemen does not speak of such tales when a lady is present, does he, Andrew?” He snatched the lace out of Andrew’s hands and stuffed the item into his pouch. “If you must know all, tis to trim her petticoat.”
“Ah!” Andrew nodded as if Brandon had just revealed the secret of the ages. “But does this generous wench possess a petticoat to trim? That is the burning question.”
Brandon chuckled. “I will investigate that when next I see her. Good day, Andrew, Rosie.” Then he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You are doing very well, sweetheart.”
Rosie did a poor job of hiding her grin at his compliment. “So are you, it seems, my lord,” she replied pertly.
With a wink to Andrew, Brandon disappeared into the crowd. Andrew led Rosie down the row of brightcolored stalls. Suddenly, she gripped his arm.
“The devil take him! Tis Quince, and he is coming straight for us.” She halted and half turned away from Andrew. “Quick, my lord, afore he spies me.”
Andrew shot a quick glance at the bawdmaster. Though the odious man drew closer, he made no sign that he had recognized Rosie. Andrew stepped between her and the oncoming Quince. Dipping his head slightly, he said in an undertone, “Take courage, my sweet. Ladies do not walk with their heads down unless they are in church during Lent.”
Her lower lip trembled and her complexion had turned pale. “If Quince sees me, he will take me back. I know it.”
Andrew looked briefly over his shoulder. Quince was almost within earshot. “Hold up your head, Rosie,” he instructed her in a firm voice. “Do not look at him, look through him. Tis an old ploy we of the upper crust use to avoid pesky creditors. To it with verve!”
Taking a deep breath, Rosie lifted her chin, and assumed all the dignity she could muster. Squeezing her cold hand for reassurance, Andrew led her past the greasy seller of flesh. As they swept by him, Quince doffed his stained cap.
“Good day, my lord and lady,” he greeted them in a smarmy voice.
Andrew pretended that he did not hear the man, though he watched his every move out of the corner of his half-lidded eye. Quince did not slacken his pace but kept on going, bowing and scraping to every gentleman in the throng. After a few tense minutes, Quince completely disappeared.
“Be light of heart, Rosie. He is gone.”
She shivered and still clung to his sleeve. “He will beat me within an inch of my life if he realizes he just bowed to me. God’s teeth! If I were a man, I would cut out his heart in this marketplace!”
One corner of Andrew’s mouth twisted upward in a sneer. “Trust in me. I will render that piece of crow’s meat into thin strips of parboiled fat if he ever again lays but a finger upon you.”
She snorted in an unladylike fashion. “Trust, my lord? You speak very bravely—for now—but what will become of me in July, I wonder?” She did not look at him, but stared straight ahead. Her green eyes hardened into chips of ice.
Andrew did not know how to answer her. He was not sure what would happen to her once her brother knew of her existence. As he wrestled with this dilemma, he noticed a hanging sign that proclaimed the wares of a goldsmith from Flanders.
He welcomed the reprieve. “July is far away, but look what is here before us now!” He pulled her into the three-sided tent.
Rosie’s solemn expression melted when she saw the glorious golden array spread out on a board covered with black velvet. “By my troth, my lord! Tis like someone caught the sun and conjured its beams into the metal. Haint eve…I have never seen the like,” she breathed.
“Nor I,” Andrew replied, basking in her happy glow. Rosie should smile more often. Her lips were made for laughter—and for kisses. He cleared his throat. “Ladies are always decked with the finest of the jeweler’s art, and so shall you be. Which one do you like?” He pointed to a row of delicate gold chains.
She shook her head gently. “Ye…you cannot be serious. Twill cost all your prize, my lord. These are too fine for me.”
Andrew smiled at the stall keeper. “My lady is overcome with the beauty of your art, good master. Allow us a moment to catch our breath.” Then he bowed his head over her and murmured, “Banish your past, sweet Rosie, and enjoy what this day brings.”
She leaned back and gazed into his eyes. “Teach me how I should forget to remember, my lord.”
Her soft-spoken plea impaled his heart. He smoothed her brow with his thumb. “If I could, I would wipe away all your sorrows until your memory was newborn. Allow me to begin by draping you with sunshine.”
Turning back to the display, he lifted a gold chain of exquisitely fashioned roses. “Here is a fitting necklace—roses for my Rose.” He placed it around her neck and closed the clasp.
With a look of awe, she touched one petal, then another as if they might disappear at any moment. “Tis cool against my skin.”
Cocking his head, Andrew admired the effect. “You will warm it soon enough.” I am already on fire.
“Haint ever touched real gold afore,” she whispered.
He cheerfully excused her lapse in vocabulary. “Tis your beauty that enriches the work.” He turned to the goldsmith and spent a few challenging minutes while they haggled over the price. The necklace took most of his purse, but no matter. At this moment, Andrew felt far richer than his marriage to a wealthy wife had made him.
Rosie closed her hand over his. “My lord,” she whispered as if they were in a church. “This necklace has cost ye far more than your wager. Are ye sure that—”
He stopped her mouth with a kiss.
Chapter Fourteen
Andrew had planned only to brush lightly against Rosie’s lips, but once he touched their petal-softness and tasted the heady wine of her sweetness, he could not stop. Like a thirsty man in a parched desert, he gathered her closer to him and drank deeply from her wellspring.
At first Rosie stiffened with surprise, though she did not push him away. Then, as his tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips, she relaxed into his embrace. As he moved his mouth over hers, she returned his kiss with a passion that belied her outward calm.
Raising his head, Andrew gazed into her liquid eyes. “Ah, Rosie,” he breathed. “You have bewitched me.”
She ran the tip of her pink tongue around her lips, still moist and swollen from his kiss. “Is that what it is, my lord, or something else?”
He swallowed. She thinks I expect payment for my gift. God help me, she is right. “If I have offended you, my sweet Rosie, allow me to take back my sin.” With a teasing smile, he bent down to kiss her again.
Rosie closed her eyes and rose on tiptoe to meet his embrace.
A harsh guffaw stopped them. “Casting pearls before swine, Ford?”
Andrew looked over his shoulder and clenched his jaw. Sir Gareth Hogsworthy, flanked by his minions, stood just outside the entrance to the goldsmith’s tent.
The knave curled his lip. “I asked if you were decking a pig.”
Rosie reacted angrily at the sneer of contempt in the man’s voice. “Go to, ye waggish, evil-eyed moldwarp!”
Andrew put his arm around her shoulders. She shook with her fury. He gave her a little squeeze. “Tush, my dear. Pay him no mind. He crawled out from under a rock and is of no consequence.”
Gareth swaggered nearer. He eyed Rosie’s gold necklace. “Tis a sad waste of the jeweler’s art to hang such a pretty piece on a whore.”
She struggled against Andrew’s grasp. “Bladder of lard!”
Several of the bystanders laughed at her apt remark.
Andrew tightened his hold on her. He feared she might attempt to do bodily harm on the reeky cad. “Remember you are a lady now, Rosie,” he cautioned her in a low tone. “And ladies do not answer remarks tossed by the riffraff.”
Lady of the Knight Page 15