The Marriage Priza Page 9

  Suddenly, from an adjoining chamber came a bloodcurdling scream that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. He knew it was Rosamond before the chilling sound died away, and in a flash he was on his feet and running, his palm clasped about the hilt of his dagger.

  Rod found no one in the chamber except Rosamond. She was lying in her bed, her hair a wild tangle, her night rail twisted about her body so that her long legs were bared. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gripped her shoulders. "Rosamond, wake up, sweetheart, you're having a nightmare!"

  When the girl on the bed opened her eyes, they widened in horror and another scream was torn from her throat. The dark form towering above her blotted out the light from the candles that burned in their iron stand in the corner of the room, and she fought him desperately.

  Rod took possession of her hands as they clawed at his face, and gripped them tightly. "Rosamond, it's me, it's Rod!"

  His voice was so compelling, it penetrated her consciousness. "De Leyburn?" she gasped.

  A light flared behind them as Nan rushed into the chamber. She

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  stopped dead in her tracks at the scene before her. "Bones of God, Sir Rodger, are you ravishing her?"

  "She is screaming from a nightmare, not me. I'll take care of this, Nan, go back to bed."

  Nan hesitated. "Rosamond ... ?"

  "I'm... all right." The quaver in her lady's voice did little to assure Nan, but Sir Rodger de Leyburn was such a dominant male presence, the tiring-woman had little choice but to withdraw and allow them their privacy.

  "Tell me what terrified you."

  She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to do aught but cling to him. When he felt her body trembling, he slipped his arms around her protectively and held her. Some inner instinct told him not to press her to talk; he somehow knew that at the moment, all she needed was his strength. He could feel her heart pounding, feel the tremor of her lush breasts as they lay against the hard muscles of his chest, and hear her shuddering breaths as her lungs fought for air. The scent of her, the feel of her soft body, and the feminine way she clung to him were aphrodisiacs that aroused his lust, but he crushed it down with an iron determination. Gradually, in the warm haven of his arms, her breathing eased and her trembling stilled.

  As Rosamond clung to him she realized she had never felt as totally safe and secure in her entire life as she did at this moment. His powerful protection was all-encompassing, and so seductive she longed to stay in his arms, pressed against his heart forever. As his warmth seeped into her, she felt a need to reveal her nightmare, hoping his strength could erase it forever. She had not spoken of it for years; she had suppressed it for so long, it had become a terrible secret, almost shameful; but now she felt an overwhelming compulsion to share it. "I... I have a recurring dream..." she whispered.

  "Tell me," he murmured, stroking her disheveled hair, with his strong, soothing hand.

  Rosamond could feel the steady, comforting beat of his heart beneath her cheek, and she was no longer afraid to speak of it. "It is a . . . trampling dream. Always the same. The rider is faceless . . . though I know he is dark. It is the horse I fear most. ... It is huge, black, terri-

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  fying." She shuddered. "My blood turns icy with fear, for I know his pursuit will be relentless!" She took a deep breath before she could continue. "I desperately attempt to escape the cruel hooves.... I run faster and faster, until my lungs are ready to burst, but I cannot escape. As I look back over my shoulder, the black forelegs rise above me. ... I scream and tumble beneath the horse's hooves...."

  Rod was a good listener, which was why so many people confided in him. Listening was an art; he neither offered advice nor tried to solve the problem unless he was asked. He simply listened. He understood that if he did for Rosamond what she must do for herself, he would only end up heightening her fear and diminishing her confidence in herself. His arms tightened about her and he drew her closer.

  In the haven of his arms, Rosamond's thoughts began to disentangle themselves and she saw things with a clarity that had evaded her up until now. "Of course," she whispered, "the black horse symbolizes death! I am running away from death . . . my parents' death . . . my brother's. . . . I've never fully accepted Giles's death. Whenever I am threatened, I have the trampling dream!"

  Rodger began to rock her gently. He cradled the back of her head with his hand and pressed her face into the hollow of his shoulder. His lips brushed the curling tendrils at her temple.

  "The nightmares began when I heard whispers that Giles had been trampled to death by his maddened horse in the jousting."

  At that moment, Rodger de Leyburn thanked heaven and hell that Rosamond Marshal could not see the grim expression on his face. Giles Marshal had not been killed by his horse. He had met his death by a human hand. Rod closed his eyes and knew he must wed her quickly, before she learned who had killed her beloved brother. The marriage must be soon, or the dark rider of her dream might no longer be faceless.

  Seven

  When Nan waited an extra hour in the morning before she attended Rosamond, her mistress realized Nan was giving Sir Rodger time to withdraw from her chamber discreetly, if he had spent the night with his betrothed.

  "I'm sorry I disturbed you last night, Nan. When I went to bed, I didn't feel safe with Sir Rodger away at Worcester, and I had a nightmare. But when I saw that de Leyburn had returned after all, it put my fears to rest."

  "I wanted to stay, my lamb, but he dismissed me, and he can be very intimidating."

  "Yes, I know, but strangely enough he doesn't greatly intimidate me any longer. I have been guilty of saying the most dreadful, cutting things to him, but instead of being fierce with me, he is amused."

  "Perhaps he is tolerant because you are not yet wed. Perhaps he wouldn't be quite as amused if his wife was insolent to him."

  "You are not very consistent, Nan. Yesterday you were pushing me into matrimony; today you are warning me against it." Rosamond hid a smile. "Help me choose something suitable to wear—the new staff from Worcester Castle will be here this morning."

  When she went down to the hall, Rosamond was wearing a dark green tunic over a white lawn underdress. A gold chain decorated with jade beads was artfully crisscrossed once beneath her breasts, once about her hips in Grecian style, and her long golden hair had been drawn up in a knot at the back of her head, then allowed to flow to her hips in a long fall.

  When she saw Rodger de Leyburn, her cheeks turned pink and her eyes went directly to his, to gauge his reaction.

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  "Good morning, my lady." His smile was friendly but not intimate, and Rosamond heaved an inner sigh of relief. He signaled to a woman at the other end of the hall, who came immediately. "This is Lizzy Hutton. I think she will make a good head housekeeper in charge of Pershore's female servants, but only if she meets with your approval, my lady. Lizzy, this is Rosamond Marshal, the mistress of Pershore."

  Lizzy bobbed a respectful curtsy. "I will do my very best to earn your approval, ma'am. What would you like for breakfast?"

  Rosamond liked her immediately, not only because she had a motherly look, but because she was immaculate, with a starched white smock and cap, and clean fingernails.

  Lizzy curtsied to Nan also and asked what she would like to eat. When she went happily off to the kitchen, Rosamond smiled at Sir Rodger. "I think she's lovely. I hadn't expected them to be here this early."

  His green eyes smiled into hers. "I swear I didn't threaten them, I just think they want to impress you and show they are eager to serve you and Pershore. I recommend that you make Lizzy's husband steward in Dymock's place, but of course the decision is yours. If you don't agree once you have talked with him, we'll get another man."

  "If you recommend Hutton, Sir Rodger, that's good enough for me; you have far more experience than I." Lord in heaven, she thought, why did I speak of his experience? He could think it a double entendre!

  But R
odger nodded seriously. "I know them to be a capable couple, both decent and trustworthy. They brought some furnishings from Worcester Castle to make Pershore more comfortable."

  "Oh, are you sure that is permissible?"

  Rod smiled. "Yes, I gave them permission to bring the stuff and now I give you permission to enjoy it."

  The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Then how can I refuse?"

  "Oh, you are quite capable of refusing what I offer, Rosamond," he teased.

  She remembered how his arms had felt in the night, and lowered her lashes to her cheeks. I didn't refuse your strength, she thought. It’s the only thing you have that I need . . . the only thing I want! Another voice

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  spoke to her. If you agreed to marry him, you would gain that strength. Rosamond silently answered the voice. Yes, but he would want more from me than I am prepared to give.

  "I hesitate to ask, Rosamond, for it could be harrowing, but would you consider riding out with me to visit the tenant farms this morning? I will go alone if you prefer."

  She liked the way he included her in all he undertook, whether it was choosing a steward or visiting the tenants. When she'd arrived at Pershore, she'd felt completely insignificant, but Sir Rodger was changing that. "Of course I will visit my tenants." She gave him back his own words. "I am honor-bound."

  "Thank you. I'll saddle your palfrey while you break your fast, and await you in the bailey."

  De Leyburn never failed to surprise her. Would he really saddle her palfrey himself, rather than have a groom do it? Everything he did had a way of making her feel special. After breakfast, when she went up to her bedchamber for her cloak and gloves, her jaw almost dropped with amazement. The room had been transformed. Not only was there a lady's slipper bath and a lovely polished mirror, but the floor had a plush red carpet and the walls were hung with rich tapestries. Roger de Leyburn had surprised her again, and it began to dawn on her that he was a man who enjoyed surprising a lady and gifting her with life's luxuries.

  As they rode to the first tenant farm, with Hutton, the new head steward, in tow, Rosamond thanked Sir Rodger for his thoughtfulness.

  "It is my pleasure. Most beautiful, highborn ladies take these things for granted."

  She touched the dark brown marten fur that edged the hood of her green velvet riding cape and wondered if he really did think she was beautiful, or was he merely being gallant? Compared with his swarthy handsomeness, she was extremely fair, and she wondered if he was truly attracted to her. Then she blushed, for she knew of a certainty that when she tossed her long honey-blond tresses about her shoulders, he became aroused. She found his eyes upon her as she tucked a windblown strand of hair back inside her hood, and her blush deepened. Lord, she hadn't felt this feminine in her entire life!

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  As they rode through a copse of beech trees, they startled a family of roe deer, who in turn disturbed myriad game birds as the deer bounded off through the woods. When they arrived at the first farm, Rod dismounted immediately and went to Rosamond's stirrup to aid her. Unused to such male attention, she found how pleasurable it was to be lifted down from the saddle.

  At every farm, six in all, the scene was basically the same. Her tenant farmers were afraid of their visitors. It stabbed Rosamond to the heart when the children screamed and went into hiding. The men were gaunt, the women thin and timid, and all were in rags, overworked and underfed.

  As Hutton assessed what needed to be done in the way of repairs to the dwellings and outbuildings, de Leyburn drew out the farmers and got them to talk. To Rosamond it was clear that he had dealt with situations like this before, and she was profoundly grateful for his experience. She listened to their painful stories and was devastated by what she heard. Their sheep had produced more wool this year than ever before, yet the people who were responsible were almost starved. They learned that Dymock had hanged a farmer who cut up a dead lamb to feed his family and neighbors, and a twelve-year-old youth had been beaten to death for hunting Pershore's game.

  After they heard the first horror story, Rodger de Leyburn turned to Rosamond and asked her if she would hold a court to try Dymock for his crimes. When she agreed, he told her to ask the tenants to bring their grievances to the hall later that day.

  "My lord, I want you to ask them. They will not listen to me regarding Dymock; they'll be too afraid to trust the authority of a woman, even though I am the mistress of Pershore."

  When de Leyburn encouraged them to come and bring their grievances, and promised they would be addressed, most looked as if they might be willing to attend the court at Pershore. Rosamond then spoke to the women. "Please come and bring the children. When court is over, I want you to dine in the hall tonight."

  On the ride back, Rod did not try to hide his admiration for her. "That was most thoughtful of you, Rosamond."

  "Judas, I have been thoughtless overlong, never giving these people a moment's attention for years; please do not praise me."

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  "No guilt, Rosamond. It serves no useful purpose; it neither restores the dead nor fills bellies, but it can kill happiness."

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  Alyce de Clare had never experienced a pang of guilt in her life. She snuggled down into her sable far cape, lined with red velvet, as she rode beside her ever indulgent father-in-law, Richard of Gloucester. Actually, she quite liked him; he was the sort of man she could cozen with her feline femininity. He was neither quick-witted nor shrewd. He did have a volatile temper, but she was careful never to rub him the wrong way, and she knew it added to his towering pride and prestige to have such a highborn, attractive lady for a daughter-in-law.

  "I always get the impression that Simon de Montfort resents you for being England's leading peer, my lord."

  "Really?" Gloucester sounded surprised.

  "His ambition is legend. He wishes to control the barons, but now it seems he wants to control you and Prince Edward too."

  "You shouldn't concern your pretty head with politics, my dear."

  "Oh, I don't, my lord. I simply don't want you to provoke the king's displeasure." Now that she had sown the seeds, she was happy to leave the subject alone.

  "Would you like to stop at Pershore for the night? It belongs to my young cousin, Rosamond Marshal, and since I appointed the steward there, we are guaranteed a warm welcome."

  "I'd prefer we go on to Gloucester, my lord. Your little Marshal cousin took an instant dislike to me."

  Richard nodded his approval at her willingness to remain in the saddle. "Perhaps the reason Rosamond acted coolly toward you was Rodger de Leyburn. He always flirts outrageously with you, Alyce."

  She gave him a provocative glance. "Most men flirt with me, my lord. There is something about a French female that men cannot resist, nest-ce pas?"

  "You are a delectable morsel, Alyce; I swear even the king himself is half in love with you. I know it has been a sore trial to you to be married to a boy all these years, but Gilbert is fifteen, almost sixteen, and I warrant he's now old enough to consummate your union." Richard

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  grinned. "Gilbert needs an heir, Alyce. You won't make me wait too much longer for a grandson, will you, sweetheart?"

  Alyce suppressed a shudder. The redheaded Gilbert with the flaming temper was anathema to her. There was only one man on earth whose son she'd be willing to bear, and that man was her half-cousin, Prince Edward Plantagenet. The trouble was, Edward was far too clever to impregnate her. Though he adored the bedsport she provided, he never allowed his seed to spend until he had withdrawn from her. Next time they were intimate, perhaps during the celebration of the New Year, she would have to lure him into forgetting himself.

  "It is my fervent desire to give you and Gilbert an heir for Gloucester, very, very shortly, my dearest lord." She pulled her sables more closely about her and thought of the emeralds and diamonds she would demand as her reward for risking her figure to provide the de Clares with an heir. S
he hadn't much thought about it before, but now that she considered the matter, Alyce realized that if she provided Richard of Gloucester with a grandson and heir, it could make Gilbert the Red quite redundant.

  Alyce gave her father-in-law a brilliant smile. "I wish to spend Christmas at Westminster, in my father's beautiful apartments, my lord. When I become enceinte, I will need a complete new wardrobe, and the only place in the kingdom where the French fashions are available is London. You will not mind too much if I run off and indulge myself before I settle down to motherhood, will you, Richard?" Her lips made a pouty little moue she knew he would not be able to resist.

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  In midafternoon the tenant farmers of Pershore and their families came to the castle as a group, no doubt feeling there was strength in numbers. The court was held in the dining hall, and Rodger advised Rosamond that the entire household should attend. It would be a strong deterrent to the servants who had aided and abetted Dymock in his tyranny. When all were assembled, de Leyburn asked Griffin to bring the prisoner from his cell. Sir Rodger and Rosamond, sitting in judgment together, listened intently as the tenants aired their grievances.

  As the grave complaints and injuries were piled one on top of

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  another, Rosamond's heart hardened against Dymock. When she listened to the man accuse the steward of ordering his son's death for snaring a rabbit in the woods, Rosamond's eyes searched out the boy's mother. That was the moment she knew she would hang Dymock, and she would try to do it without guilt. Now she understood why most women left the decisions to men. With power and authority came responsibilities and hard decisions, but she resolved to do her duty without flinching. Rosamond did not wait for Sir Rodger to take the lead. She stood and spoke directly to Dymock. "You are to be taken from this place and hanged by the neck until you are dead. If you need a confessor to unburden your soul before my sentence is carried out, you may have one."