She looked directly into the faces of the men and women before her. "If there are other charges against any who are employed at Per-shore, I am ready to hear them." Without looking at Sir Rodger, she knew his eyes were upon her with approval and respect for what she had just done. But she also acknowledged to herself that it was his strength that had given her the courage to do it.
There were two men, who were ostensibly Pershore's guards, who had sexually forced women against their will. Rosamond dismissed them from her service immediately, with a dire warning to the other males employed at Pershore. "If this ever occurs again, I shall not hesitate to pass a sentence of death upon you." Rosamond's gaze traveled about the hall seeking the girl, Edna. "Do you wish to lay a complaint against the cook, Edna? "
The girl's eyes went as round as saucers, but she shook her head decisively. Rosamond's icy gaze pierced the cook's for long, drawn-out minutes as she pondered how to deal with the obese woman. "I do not want you in my kitchen; your standards of cleanliness will never match mine. I believe your bulk is more suited to being a laundress. It takes a good deal of strength to lift and scrub wet sheets, and at least I can be certain your hands will be clean henceforth."
A ripple of laughter went around the hall and Rosamond blushed slightly, knowing she had delivered that last cutting remark with the hauteur of a countess. She held up her hands for silence and became humble. Looking around the hall, she said, "I deeply regret all the
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horror and hardship you have suffered. Until I came to Pershore, I was in complete ignorance of your circumstances. I pledge to do all I can to improve both your working and living conditions. You are free to take wood from the forest for your fires, and I give you my permission to hunt Pershore's game. Should there come a time when the forests are depleted, I may suspend hunting rights until the deer and game birds thrive again, but please rest assured there will always be meat on your tables. I have appointed a new head steward by the name of Hutton from the royal castle of Worcester. He will begin making improvements to your farms right away, so please do not hesitate to discuss your needs with him.
"One of your needs is quite evident. Before winter sets in with a vengeance, you will all need warm clothing and footwear, and the material for these shall be provided." Rosamond smiled her encouragement. "Please stay and partake of our hospitality tonight. The fires are warm and the food and ale is plentiful. Enjoy!"
Sir Rodger took both her hands, squeezed them, then lifted first one, then the other to his lips. "You are flushed with success, chérie. Today you made the journey from girlhood to womanhood, and it becomes you."
"How will I pay for all the things I've promised?" she whispered, experiencing sudden anxiety.
"Pershore's coffers overflow and fortunately Griffin and I have unearthed them from where they were hidden. I'll show you later. Go and receive your people's homage, Rosamond, you deserve it."
Rosamond watched him as he crossed the hall. He singled out a thin, dark boy for his attention. Out of curiosity, she followed him. De Leyburn was offering the boy a chance to become a page on the household staff of Pershore and was explaining to the boy the opportunities that this would open for him, perhaps even leading to the position of steward one day.
Looking at the sullen, ragged child, she thought Sir Rodger was not being kind to dangle such an unobtainable prize before his nose, for he looked like a most unlikely candidate in her eyes. She murmured, "He cannot read or write, nor has he been taught even rudimentary manners, my lord."
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"He can learn," Rod said firmly. "I would like him to have a chance to be more than a shepherd; after that it will be up to him. He reminds me of someone I once knew. I should have asked you first. I will take him into my service if you deem him unsuitable for Pershore."
Rosamond smiled at the boy, whose eyes looked as if they had seen things no child should witness. "Go and find Lizzy Hutton and tell her you are to be my personal page. She'll find you a new suit of clothes, but I warn you, she will likely insist you take a bath and cut your hair short." The dark boy hesitated for only a brief moment, then he flashed her a cheeky grin and darted off. Rosamond realized instantly that the boy reminded de Leyburn of himself.
Before the feasting was finished, darkness had fallen and the chatelaine of Pershore gave her tenants permission to stay the night in the hall of the castle, if they so wished. When Rosamond and Nan climbed the stairs to retire for the night, Rod followed them and invited Rosamond into his chamber so that she could see for herself the coffers he had found.
She lifted her eyes from the boxes of coins. "How did you learn the steward had hidden gold?"
Rod avoided answering her directly, knowing she would not wish to know how he had persuaded Dymock to confess. "The records he kept for Gloucester were falsified, showing no profits for Pershore. The books show that the income from wool and mutton equaled expenses, which is ridiculous when he spent nothing on the upkeep of either Pershore or its tenant farms."
"Will there be enough to do everything I have promised?"
"Yes, there's plenty of wood in the forests to make necessary repairs, and the tenants can do the work themselves now that the crops are in, the shearing finished, and many of the animals sold for slaughter. I'll organize a hunt tomorrow, and the venison and game can be salted down to last through the winter. Hutton suggested we buy some swine. They'd almost feed themselves in the oak and beech woods. Also, many of the women know how to weave cloth, if we provide them with looms." He grinned at her. "I've told the farmers to help themselves to the mountain of horse manure piled behind the stables. It will give them bumper crops next year."
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"You are full of surprises, my lord."
His green eyes held hers. "Do you like surprises, Rosamond?"
She searched his face, knowing it was an intimate question. "Up until now, I have not liked surprises; they have always been unpleasant. But I must admit I am woman enough to like the bathing tub and the mirror."
He walked with her to the door, then he bent close. Rosamond thought for one wild moment that he was about to kiss her. She had never been kissed by a man and wondered what it would feel like. But instead of kissing her, Rod simply opened the door, and Rosamond realized she was the only one who was thinking of kisses.
"I believe you are woman enough for anything," he said softly.
A frisson of pleasure curled inside her. Perhaps I am, she thought.
As she began to undress, her glance fell upon her pillow. There lay a sprig of mistletoe and Rosamond wondered how in the world it had gotten there. Had Nan put it there? No, of course not. Rosamond knew very well who had put it there, and it proved to her beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was not the only one thinking of kisses.
Leaving only one scented candle burning, Rosamond climbed into bed and went over the events of the incredible day. The decisions she had been forced to make had made her stronger. She realized that those decisions had been easier for her because de Leyburn had been at her side. She lifted the misdetoe to her nose and sniffed. It had little scent, yet it brought her a great deal of pleasure. Her thoughts drifted back to last night when Rodger had come to her in the darkness and held her securely for hours.
Her brows drew together in apprehension. Surely, the nightmare wouldn't come again tonight to terrify her? If it did, she took comfort in the fact that Rodger de Leyburn was in the adjoining chamber and would not hesitate to come if she needed him. The corners of her mouth went up. What if she merely pretended she was having a nightmare? All she need do was cry out, and she would be in his arms once more. Rosamond blushed. Why in the world was she having such wicked, wanton thoughts?
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Eight
The following day, Rosamond decided she would not hunt, but she did join Sir Rodger and the other hunters on the first leg of their ride, happy to exercise herself and her palfrey in the crisp, cold sunshine. She wore an amber-colored cape that flew open as she rode
to reveal an apricot-colored riding dress. She knew both shades complemented her honey-gold tresses. This morning she wanted to look attractive in her companion's eyes, and by the way his green gaze devoured her, Rosamond knew she had succeeded.
Pershore was on the banks of the River Avon, which had frozen solid a couple of days before, and it was a novelty for Rosamond to ride Nimbus across the ice to the bank on the other side. As they cantered beneath the tall trees, powdered snow that had fallen in the night came drifting down from the heavily laden branches, and she lifted her face skyward to catch the flakes on her eyelashes. To Rosamond the day seemed perfect. When the hunters caught sight of their first roe deer, they thundered off after them, and Rosamond waved farewell, then cantered slowly back across the frozen river to Pershore.
She found the household servants decorating the hall with holly, ivy, and evergreen boughs in honor of the December Holy Days of Saint Nicholas, and she and Nan joined them, fastening red-berried holly across the mantel of the massive fireplace. The spicy smell of mincemeat pies baking in the kitchen filled the air with their piquant aroma, and Rosamond took a handful of cloves from the larder to the stillroom to mold some clove-scented candles.
Later in the day, when the wax had set, she decided to take a scented candle to de Leyburn's chamber. She recalled that when she had been there to see the coin-filled coffers, the room had looked extremely
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austere. As she looked about the chamber she was mildly surprised that he had not softened the Spartan effect with some of the furnishings from Worcester. From the cut of his clothes, he seemed the sort of man who enjoyed the luxuries of life. She stripped off his bed and remade it with some of her own fine sheets, since she imagined he was fastidious about his body linen. She considered putting a sprig of mistletoe on his pillow, then decided against it. Instead, she fastened the sprig of white berries at the neckline of her apricot velvet gown.
The hunting party did not return until the last light had gone from the afternoon sky. They had bagged dozens of deer and scores of hares, as well as a few wild boar. Nothing on the animals would be wasted. The skins would be cured, and the boar tusks and deer horns used to fashion handles for tools and utensils. Even the hooves would be boiled down for soap, mucilage, and gelatin.
Bathed and changed from his bloody attire, Sir Rodger joined Rosamond in the hall for dinner. "It looks like Yuletide tonight, and if I am not mistaken I smell mince pie and roast goose."
"With chestnut dressing, I might add," Rosamond announced with sparkling eyes. "Doesn't the hall look inviting?"
Sir Rodger eyed the mistletoe at her breast. "Inviting, yes. A man appreciates a warm welcome, whether he is returning from the hunt or from battle. If there is a lady who awaits him with a smile, and praise for his efforts, life is much sweeter."
Rosamond's pulse quickened as it occurred to her that Rodger de Leyburn was courting her. The meal turned out to be a total success, and she enjoyed every delicious mouthful of her food. She admitted that his company added to her pleasure. When the meal was over and Rosamond told the servers to refill all the wine cups, everyone in the hall spontaneously broke into the old Welsh air:
Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la la la la la. 'Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la la la la la. Don we now our gay apparel,
Fa la la la la la la la la.
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Troll the ancient Yuletide carol,
Fa la la la la la la la la.
See the blazing Yule before us,
Fa la la la la la la la la.
Strike the harp and join the chorus,
Fa la la la la la la la la.
Follow me in merry measure,
Fa la la la la la la la la.
While I tell of Yuletide treasure,
Fa la la la la la la la la.
As the tables were being cleared, Rosamond took her wine and sat on the padded settle next to the fireplace. Rod joined her, stretching out his long legs to the warm blaze.
"You look so content here, I hesitate to broach the subject of Deerhurst," he said.
"I... I haven't been there since Giles's . . . accident. Dear God in heaven, I hope it isn't being run as Pershore was."
"It's much closer to Gloucester, so perhaps Deerhurst's steward dare not be an out-and-out thief right under Richard de Clare's nose, but conditions could certainly be less than ideal." Rod searched her face. "There's only one way to find out." When Rosamond looked apprehensive, he offered, "I will go to Deerhurst without you if you cannot face going there alone. Was it where you lived as a child?"
"Yes, Deerhurst was my father's castle," she said wistfully.
"Childhood memories can be almost unbearable." Tenderly, he covered her hand with his, then threaded his fingers through hers.
"No, I had a happy childhood, until my father was killed in battle." Then Rosamond realized it was de Leyburn's own childhood that prompted his words. "How far is Deerhurst from here?"
"Possibly eight, certainly no more than nine miles south. We would just follow the river."
Rosamond shook her head. " 'Tis unfair to ask Nan to ride farther, especially if the place is filthy and dilapidated."
Rod squeezed her fingers. "We could go alone."
His tempting suggestion hung in the air between them for long
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minutes as she debated its positive and negative points. It was certainly her duty to inspect Deerhurst, not only for the sake of the tenant farmers, but for the memory of Giles and her parents. On the other hand, traveling alone with Sir Rodger could bring them one step closer to matrimony. She decided that time alone with him would not be a bad thing. Being wooed was pleasurable, like an exciting game. Rosamond now admitted to herself that she found Rodger highly attractive, but he would have to be persuasive indeed to make her change her mind about marrying him. "When?" she asked impulsively.
"Tomorrow."
She watched his gaze linger on the mistletoe (or was it her breasts?), then rise to her mouth. She caught her breath, knowing that her assent had been reckless. Now he imagined it was permissible to kiss her! When he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, a feeling akin to disappointment washed over her. I swear he's doing it apurpose, she thought, making love to me with his eyes so I will anticipate his wicked mouth! Well, perhaps two can play that game.
Rosamond raised her wine cup slowly and sipped. Then she lifted her lashes so that she looked directly into his green eyes, and allowed the tip of her tongue to brush across first her top lip, then her full bottom lip. Her gaze dropped deliberately to his mouth, where it lingered for an indecent length of time. Then she sighed, allowing her lush breasts to rise and then to fall. She watched as the expression in his eyes grew hotter and she saw his jaw harden with desire. The moment he dipped his head to take possession of her lips, she jumped to her feet.
"I must pack if we are to leave at dawn. Good night, my lord."
Rod's dark brows drew together and he swore beneath his breath as he watched her depart. He cautioned himself that Rosamond was a wise little wench; he must not underestimate her intelligence. Then he laughed; at least she had joined the game!
******************
Rosamond dressed in the warmest gown she had brought from Kenilworth and then wrapped herself in her emerald velvet cloak with the marten fur hood. She had packed only a few clothes, opting instead to take her own bed linen rather than fancy gowns.
As Rod helped her into the saddle, she smiled as she remembered
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Nan's knowing glances that she was being left behind. Rosamond had not been able to convince her that it was out of consideration for her comfort.
"I know what you're up to," Nan had said, "but you're an innocent, remember, and he's five years older and lived at the licentious royal court in Gascony! You'll be like a lamb going to slaughter."
"It was Gascony, not Gomorrah, Nan."
"Same th
ing, from what I've heard," Nan had sniffed.
"You and the rest of the world expect me to marry him, yet you cavil at our being alone together. Nan, in spite of the fact that I find Sir Rodger attractive and admit that my feelings are thawing toward him, I'm not going to fall into his hands like a ripe plum." Rosamond had smiled reassuringly. "Nan, Sir Rodger may be worldly, but I assure you that I am more than a match for him!"
Now, as Rosamond trotted her palfrey from the bailey, she heard the tinkle of silver bells and saw that de Leyburn had fastened some to Nimbus's bridle. It was a lovely gesture on his part. She realized that he paid attention to the details, and to a woman that meant a great deal. Her next thought was that he knew far too much about pleasing a woman. She asked herself if she cared, and the answer came back Yes!
"Your palfrey is bred from the famous milk-white steeds of Wales. The stallions make good war horses. My black horse is French, bred for swiftness. He doesn't make you nervous, does he? "
"Not so long as you are there to control him. I'd be afraid to ride him," she admitted, but not without a blush. Their horses seemed to be an extension of themselves, his so powerful and dark, hers so long-legged and blond. Why did the stallion and mare make her think of mating? Rosamond's blush deepened, and she feared he would read her thoughts. Quickly she changed the subject. "If the household servants at Deerhurst are found wanting, where can we get others? "
"That's an easy one. Tewkesbury Castle is only two miles from Deerhurst."
"I assume Tewkesbury is a royal castle?"
"It used to be, but Tewkesbury now belongs to me."
"You?" She could not keep the surprise from her voice.
"It was given to me by the crown for services rendered."
Rosamond was embarrassed. She had had no idea he owned such