The Marriage Prize (44 page)

greatgrandfather, conquered Wales for England a century

ago, and our Marcher barons have held it ever since,

effectively putting down al uprisings. Now de Montfort is

handing it back to Llewelyn on a silver platter!"

"When you are king, you wil simply have to conquer it al over

again," Rod said lightly.

Edward pierced Rodger with an ice-blue stare. "Make no

mistake, my friend, I wil unite England and Wales."

In that moment, Rodger de Leyburn had no doubts that

Edward would do as he pledged.

Edward grinned. "But first I must win back England!"

******************

At the midday meal in the Great Hal of Kenilworth, Rosamond

saw that the swarthy Llewelyn's eyes fol owed Demoisel e de

Montfort to the exclusion of al other ladies. Noticing that he

had the hungry look of a wolf stalking its prey, Rosamond

shuddered and decided to warn her young friend when the

meal was over. But when the tables were cleared, Demi

sought out Rosamond, breathless with suppressed

excitement. "What do you think of him? "

"Who?" Rosamond asked, dreading Demi's answer.

"The Prince of Wales, sil y. He is so dark and dangerous

looking, he makes my knees feel weak as wet linen! How

fortunate that I studied the Welsh language, as I am to sit up

on the dais with him tonight at dinner!"

"You are infatuated with him because he is an older man,

much as I was with Sir Rickard de Burgh." Rosamond said.

"However, you mustn't forget that Llewelyn is England's

enemy."

"I know, isn't it exciting? " Demi licked her lips, and Rosamond was thankful her friend was too young for a serious

relationship with the older man.

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That night, Rosamond watched Llewelyn and Demi as they sat

together on the dais. They appeared to be engrossed in each

other as if they were alone in the universe. She glanced up at

her husband and saw that he too watched Llewelyn of Wales.

"Demi is infatuated with him," she said. "When he leaves, she wil be brokenhearted."

"Not if they betroth her to him."

"Betroth? Demi has only just turned fifteen. Surely they would

not wed their young daughter to the enemy!"

"Would they not? You don't know Simon de Montfort very wel .

Llewelyn is the self-styled Prince of Wales, king in al but

name, as is Simon himself. A bond of marriage would ensure

peace between England and Wales."

Rosamond studied Simon de Montfort, then she watched

Lady Eleanor, who was every inch a royal princess that night.

She saw them through Rodger's eyes and saw clearly that

both were ambitious for power. If they could wed their

daughter to a prince, would they do so, even if he were an

enemy? Demi would be sacrificed to power!

Rosamond put her hand on Rodger's arm. "I don't want to stay

at Kenilworth. Can we not go back to Windsor?"

Rodger held her gaze with his. "Not yet, love." He placed his hand over hers. "I wil take you to Tewkesbury, and you can

spend time at your own castle of Deerhurst, which lies so

close."

"Oh, yes please, that would be wonderful."

He raised her fingers to his lips. "Let's go upstairs."

As Rosamond began to undress she felt her husband's eyes

upon her and suddenly felt self-conscious. Since they had last

made love, her pregnancy had become far more pronounced.

"Let me undress you," he said softly.

"I... my body is no longer attractive, my lord."

In a flash, he was before her. "You are wrong, Rosamond. You

have never looked more lovely than you do tonight." He took

the gown she was holding over her bel y and tossed it to the

foot of the bed. Then he sat down and pul ed her between his

thighs. "Your breasts and bel y are lush." His hand stroked

over the thin material of her shift, and he felt her quiver. As he

lifted off the garment, she tried to turn from him, but he would

not let her.

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His hands slid down her satin smooth back, drawing her close

enough for his mouth to caress her luscious curves. "The way

you look excites me, Rosamond. Come, kiss me."

She found her own arousal had begun and slid her arms about

his neck to bring her lips close to his. After only one kiss, she

felt insatiable and the tip of her tongue came out to lick and

taste him. It was not enough for her; she felt ravenous for him

and tore away his doublet.

Rodger finished disrobing swiftly and took her down to the

bed with him. "Your naked skin feels like hot silk against mine;

I love its scent and its taste," he murmured huskily.

"Rod, I want to taste you." At last she had dared to reveal her inner longing, and it gave her the courage to be daring and

bold. She rose above him to gaze down at his hard, powerful

body, al owing her eyes to feast where her lips ached to fol ow.

Slowly she lowered her mouth to cover one of his nipples, and

as her pale hair pooled upon his chest, Rod almost came out

of his skin.

His dark magnetism was like black magic tonight, arousing in

her a sensuality she had kept dammed up inside her. His

body was so hard and strong and powerful, it evoked a

wildness in Rosamond she had no intention of suppressing.

Rodger was easily the handsomest man she had ever beheld,

and his green eyes and jet hair attracted her like a lode-stone.

That he found her beautiful and wanted to make love to her

was like an aphrodisiac to Rosamond, and al her inhibitions

melted away as hot passion flamed up, threatening to

consume her.

Her palms stroked his flat bel y, then she bent to dip her

tongue into his navel and heard his groan of pleasure. Her

glance lingered on his thick manroot that jutted so arrogantly,

and the corners of her mouth rose in pleasure as she teased

him with her eyes. "There is something I've wanted to do for a

long time," she whispered. Then, without warning, her mouth

was on his thigh scar, tracing its outline with the tip of her

tongue, licking the silvery line that marred his flesh from knee

to groin.

"Rosamond, don't!" he cried.

Her laugh was sultry. "It is part of you, and I find al your parts irresistible tonight... Rod." She cupped his bal s gently and

rol ed them one against the other, then she took the head of

his cock into her mouth

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and swirled her tongue about it. She sucked him softly,

rhythmical y, slowly taking not only the head, but also half of his

thick shaft into her mouth.

Rod watched, mesmerized as she fel ated him. Her golden

hair whispered over his thighs, cloaking the intimate thing she

did to him, and he thanked the gods for this woman with whom

he had been gifted. If he could arouse this much passion in

her, surely he could make her love him. He felt his seed start

and tried to withdraw, but she stayed him with her hand, and

he gave himself up to paradise.

When he came up over her, his lips touched her between her

breasts. "I kiss your heart, Rosamond."

"I love it when you do that," she said breathlessly.

He took possession of her mouth and tasted himself on her

lips. "I love you, Rosamond." It was the first time he had

admitted it, and suddenly he didn't need to hear her say it

back to him. He suspected that indeed she did love him, she

was simply afraid to admit it, even to herself.

"Then show me!" She needed to feel him inside her, needed

his strength and his driving passion. Tonight, his was the

power, but hers was the glory!

******************

that her father and Llewelyn of Wales were indeed discussing

the possibility of a betrothal. The Demoisel e, her eyes fil ed

with stars, was so joyously excited that Rosamond could not

bring herself to spoil the young girl's happiness. "I was

betrothed to Sir Rodger for many years before we were

actual y married. Do not be in too big a hurry to leave

Kenilworth for Wales."

Rodger insisted they break their journey at Pershore, where

Rosamond found her property flourishing under the direction

of her new steward, and she knew in her heart she had her

husband to thank for its prosperity. When they arrived at

Tewkesbury, Rosamond was overjoyed to find Nan and Chirk

awaiting her.

"Oh, my lamb, you are having a babe! Sir Rodger never

breathed aword about it. You must be exhausted after your

long journey. Youshouldn't have been riding You must go up to

bed and rest."

"Nan, stop. You are as bad as Rodger. It was only a long

journey

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because he insisted we travel at a snail's pace. I would,

however, like a bath in that outrageous Viking bathing tub!"

Nan eyed Rosamond as she undressed. "When is the babe

due to arrive?"

"I'm not sure," Rosamond temporized, realizing Nan would try to curtail her every activity if she knew she was into her

seventh month. "I believe I'm about five months."

Rodger came into the bedchamber and tried to dismiss the

tiring-woman. "I wil tend Rosamond if there's anything she

desires, Nan."

"I must unpack al her lovely gowns, my lord; we don't want

them to be ruined."

Rod flashed a wicked grin at Rosamond. "A gown has no

value unless it makes a man want to take it off. I suppose I'l

settle for a kiss, if Nan refuses to grant us privacy."

"The two of you've had enough privacy, by the look of things,"

Nan jested.

When he had received his reward and departed, Nan said, "

'Tis only natural he wants his son born at his own castle of

Tewkesbury."

Rosamond lay back in the scented water, contemplating Nan's

words. Someday this magnificent castle fil ed with treasures

would belong to their child, as wel as Pershore and

Deerhurst, and for the first time she understood and approved

of Rodger's acquisitive ambition. Landholdings meant wealth,

power, and security, and she too was suddenly ambitious for

her child.

She could stil feel the imprint of Rod's mouth upon hers and

between her breasts, where he had kissed her heart. She was

amazed at how their relationship had progressed and how her

feelings had mel owed toward him. His teasing words came

back to her: Sweetheart, I intend to die on the upstroke or the

downstroke, not in some reckless plot you imagine Edward

and I are hatching. Then she recal ed her own words: Rod, I

wish I could believe you . . . I wish I could trust you. That is

when he had given her his pledge: You can believe this: If you

give me your trust, I wil never betray it. She sighed with

happiness and admired the dragonhead mast on the bathing

tub. Perhaps a dragon could be tamed after al .

The very next day, Rosamond was disabused of such a

notion. One young noble after another rode in, and Rodger

spent long hours

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secluded with them. She asked Master Burke, the castel an,

who they were, and he began to identify them for her.

"The swarthy one is Lord Mortimer. He has castles along the

Welsh border at Wigmore and Chirk. The stocky lord who

frowns is Hay, and the handsome one is Montgomery—"

"You need go no farther, Master Burke. They are al Marcher

barons who have strategic castles along the border."

"That is correct, my lady, except for the young man who has

the coloring of a lynx. He is Lincoln de Warenne, whose family

has castles in Lewes and throughout Surrey. If you wil excuse

me, my lady, I must check on the meat for the evening meal.

Sir Rodger ordered venison, rather than mutton."

When Rodger came to their chamber to change out of his

leathers for the evening meal, Rosamond took the offensive

immediately.

"What secret plots are you hatching?" she demanded angrily.

"I would tel you, chérie, if they were not secret," he teased.

"Do not patronize me, sir! You deliberately lied to me, tel ing

me I was being fanciful about plots involving Prince Edward!"

She flew at him and pummeled his chest. "You gave me your

pledge!"

Rod covered her clenched fists with his large hands. "I

pledged that if you gave me your trust, I would never betray it.

Clearly, you have not given me your trust, Rosamond."

"Dear God, you fought the war and you lost! Can you not

accept it? Can we not live in peace?"

"We did not lose the war, Rosamond, we lost a battle."

"You must be mad! Is war al you can think of? Simon de

Montfort is a man of high principle. He is enforcing the

Provisions of Oxford, he has cal ed a Parliament, he is

negotiating for peace with Wales. Surely this is best for the

country."

"Let me enlighten you, Rosamond. The country is a seething

hotbed of rebel ion. Simon de Montfort is using an aging,

weak king as a puppet to cram his policies down the barons'

throats. He is fast becoming a dictator and a fanatic. After the

Battle of Lewes, he promised that prisoners would be

exchanged, but now he demands ransom from every noble.

The Marcher lords have Welsh informants who tel us he has