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THE MARRIAGE PRIZE
tions, were certainly well matched in shrewd calculation. "Together, I believe we can persuade him, my lord earl."
"Splendid! Is there aught I can do for you in return, Sir Rodger? " "Rosamond Marshal and I are to be wed. Could we impose upon you to have the nuptial ceremony at Kenilworth?"
"That is no imposition. Eleanor would have my balls if I allowed Rosamond to be wed from anywhere but Kenilworth! I'll even give the bride away. She's a ward of the crown and that duty should be performed by a royal, but I assume Edward will be your groomsman. Congratulations!" Simon winked. "Pershore and Deerhurst are well worth the trouble of a wife."
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"Oh, my dear, I am utterly delighted that you and Sir Rodger are to be wed!" Eleanor de Montfort exclaimed. "What made you change your mind, Rosamond?"
"I have discovered how useful a man can be in helping me manage my estates." Rosamond blushed, then added, "And I have actually come to find Sir Rodger compellingly attractive, in spite of the fact that I don't completely trust the handsome devil."
Eleanor gathered Rosamond into her arms, then released her so that she could appraise the change in her. "You look absolutely radiant! Mark my words, marriage will be the making of you, Rosamond. We must waste no time; the nuptials can be celebrated just before Christmas, say the twenty-third; that gives us only a week to prepare. The moment the Yule celebrations are over, we shall all be off to London. We go to Durham House, and I imagine Sir Rodger will take you to Windsor or Westminster."
"Thank you, Lady Eleanor, you are very generous to have the wedding at Kenilworth."
"Kenilworth has long been your home, and I want you to remember that you may come back anytime. We love you very much, Rosamond."
"I love you too... you have been like a mother to me, my lady."
"Since you and Rod have been off on your own for some time, I assume he has taken it upon himself to teach you the mysteries of becoming a woman?"
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Rosamond blushed. "Yes ... no ... I am still a virgin. On the wed
ding night . . . when the bridegroom broaches the hymen ... I have
heard gossip that there is much pain and blood "
"Oh my darling, I am the one woman in the world you shouldn't be asking about this. My experience was so devastating—" Eleanor stopped midsentence when she saw Rosamond's eyes widen with apprehension. "Come and sit while I tell you. You will feel only relief that your wedding night will not be like mine."
Rosamond sat down on the padded settle before the fire beside Eleanor de Montfort, wildly curious about her first marriage.
"My father, King John, died when I was one, and I never knew him. The important man in my life when I was a child was William Marshal, your uncle. I didn't just love him, I worshipped him. He was my heart's desire and they married me to him when I was nine years old. Poor William! He was a great soldier, the marshal of England, and a mature man of thirty years.
"He did not take me to live with him until I was fifteen. Those were the six longest years of my life. I lived at Windsor and worked like a fiend at my lessons so that I would become a perfect wife. But even when we lived under the same roof, William's sense of honor would not allow him to make me a woman until he thought I was old enough to bear a child."
Eleanor sighed, remembering. "When I was sixteen, William's sister Isabella married my brother, Richard of Cornwall. At long last William decided that their wedding night would be our wedding night as well. I was so excited, I wanted to scream. I was extremely obsessive when I was young. I loved William with all my heart and soul, and he had become my obsession, I'm afraid.
"The wedding was at Westminster, and William and I were given one of the towers, which consisted of two rooms, one above the other. That night I went up to the sleeping chamber first, and readied myself for bed. William remained below so long, I simply couldn't wait! I went down to him and he carried me back up to bed. I remember he had a man's body, a soldier's body—hard, well muscled, strong. Splendor of God, I still recall every minute detail." Eleanor's sapphire eyes became liquid with unshed tears.
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"At last we were abed together. It was so intimate, so private, so secret ... it was like Paradise. William was so gentle with me. When he joined his body to mine, I felt the pain and the fullness, but I exulted in it. It spread inside me like a glorious, burning sunburst, and I loved the closeness, the heat, the weight of his body. I think I screamed, but I heard him cry out too. Slowly, I realized that his weight was too much for me ... he was hurting me. When he didn't speak and didn't move, I thought he had fallen asleep. When I couldn't awaken him, I knew something was wrong. In my ignorance, I thought he had fainted from the hymenal rite."
Eleanor swallowed hard and whispered, "William was dead.... He had been poisoned by an enemy. I don't know how long I lay there in terror before I began to scream. It was Rickard de Burgh who came in and lifted William's body off me. Sir Rickard was ever the perfect knight. I don't know what I would have done without him."
Rosamond touched her hand. "Lady Eleanor, I had no idea."
Eleanor swiped at her eyes and laughed. "So you see, if I could face all that on my first wedding night, you can face an ardent Rodger de Leyburn."
"I didn't want to marry Sir Rodger because I fancied myself in love with Rickard de Burgh," Rosamond confessed.
"Sir Rickard is a most chivalrous knight, and devastatingly attractive, but far too old for you, darling. You lost your heart to him because he was like a father to you, much as William Marshal was to me. I didn't realize it, of course, until after I fell passionately in love with Simon de Montfort. And it will be so with you and Rod."
No, Rosamond thought, I will marry Sir Rodger, but I will never allow myself to love him. What you have just told me proves that to love someone deeply is to lose them. I will try to never love anyone again.
When Rosamond was alone with Demi, she told her friend that she had finally agreed to marry Sir Rodger de Leyburn. Demi was thrilled and asked her what had happened to make her change her mind. Rosamond told Demi about falling through the ice, and how de Leyburn's strength had saved her life. She did not tell her any intimate details of what had followed the rescue, because she felt Demoiselle de Montfort was too young to learn about sexuality.
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Chirk, however, provided plenty of innocent entertainment. She made the young women laugh, and Demi had no objection to the Welsh terrier sharing their chamber. The feisty little dog was clean, well trained, and independent, never leaving little turds in the rushes, but going outside the castle, then miraculously finding her way back to Rosamond and Demi's bedchamber.
Rosamond did not have a minute to waste. A wedding gown and new garments were being made by Lady Eleanor's sewing women, and she spent much time in the solar helping with the preparations for both the wedding and the Yule. Nan helped her into her peacock velvet gown with the small train. Tonight she and Sir Rodger would sit on the dais with Lord Edward, Lady Eleanor, and Earl Simon, to be feted for their upcoming marriage by all of Kenilworth.
"Rickard de Burgh is back from Ireland; have you seen him yet?" Demi asked, as her maid threaded pearls through her dark curls.
"Rickard de Burgh . . . did he bring his bride back with him?" Rosamond asked breathlessly, crushing down her emotions at the mere mention of his name.
"Sir Rickard isn't married, Rosamond."
"But... but I thought he returned to Ireland to wed—"
"No, no, you have it mixed up. It was his twin brother, Michael. It was Mick de Burgh who took a wife."
Rosamond sank down on the edge of her bed in shock as the blood slowly drained from her face. Then shock gradually turned to anger. Rodger de Leyburn had deceived her. Her temper simmered and then sizzled as she realized he had done it deliberately. He had no doubt figured that if she believed that Sir Rickard de Burgh had pledged his troth to another, she would stop mooning o
ver Sir Rickard and be more receptive to his own seduction of her. When her fury reached the point of explosion, she acted upon it.
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Eleven
You bastard!" Rosamond stood on the threshold of Rodger de Leyburn's chamber in the Warwick lower. With her hands on her hips and her chin held high, she added more invective. "You manipulating swine! You deliberately misled me to believe that Sir Rickard de Burgh had returned to Ireland to be married. Well, sir, he is back at Ke-nilworth with no bride in evidence!"
"Rosamond, I do not appreciate foul language and insolence in a lady, and certainly not a wife." His face was grim, his words forbidding, but she heeded not the warning.
"Rot in hell!" Rosamond turned on her heel and kicked the train of her peacock gown with the hauteur of a countess.
He clamped a powerful hand on her arm and whirled her to face him. "Never turn your back on me again, lady. If you want a knockdown fight with me, be woman enough to stand your ground. What possible difference does it make to you whether Sir Rickard de Burgh is wed or not?"
Rosamond's cheeks tinted pink. He was trying to goad an admission from her. "Remove your hand from me, sir. Such possessive gestures are inappropriate from you, for you will never own one small part ofme."
Rather than removing his hand, Rod clamped the other one to her, cupping both shoulders. "I shall, Rosamond," he vowed. "I shall!"
De Leyburn was far stronger than she, and the only way Rosamond could hurt him was with words. She laughed in his face. "You will never have my heart; I lost it long ago to Sir Rickard, as you well know, or you would not have found it necessary to lie about him!"
Rod's green eyes narrowed, masking his jealousy. "He can keep your heart. I'll settle for your body... and your castles."
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"You devil, de Leyburn! You are mad if you think I would marry you now; the wedding is off!"
"Do not delude yourself, Rosamond, you will be my wife!"
******************
In Kenilworth's map room, Simon de Montfort unrolled the parchment of the Provisions of Oxford on the black oak table and held it steady for the prince. Lord Edward dipped the quill and with a bold flourish signed Edward Plantagenet.
Rodger de Leyburn's speculative gaze traveled from Lord Edward to Earl Simon. Which of the two would emerge as top dog? Each would use the other to achieve his goal. But in any encounter between two men, one dominated, the other acquiesced; one led, the other followed. In the short term, Earl Simon would be the leader, but de Leyburn knew Edward Plantagenet better than any man breathing, and he had no doubt who the ultimate victor would be. But for the present, the spirited warhorse and the young stallion, in harness together, would make a formidable team. Rod knew that neither of them acted for personal glory alone, but for a better government, a better England. Both men believed that the end justified the means, and to a point, so did he.
"If it suits your plans, Edward, I would like to depart for London the day after Christmas," Simon declared.
"We would have celebrated Christmas at Windsor if Sir Rodger's wedding were not imminent. We will hold the New Year's celebrations there instead. I will billet my Gascons at the Tower of London."
"It is good strategy to keep your fighting men close by you," the earl said. "In London, trouble can flare up at any time."
Rod did not mention that Rosamond Marshal was again refusing to marry him. He still had two days to change her mind. As he and Edward left the earl's private quarters in the Caesar Tower, the prince said, "I am more convinced than ever that de Montfort intends to make me king. I would like to do something to reward him. Not merely a costly gift for Christmas, but rather something that would honor him. Any suggestions?"
Rod's mind worked quickly. "Why don't you knight one of his sons? It would honor him above all things."
"Splendor of God, you always know exactly the right thing to do.
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Which son? Simon is his namesake, but it had best be Henry, his heir. I will knight him at your wedding celebration!"
Rod knew there might be no wedding celebration if he did not act decisively. He excused himself from Lord Edward and with firm resolve sought out Sir Rickard de Burgh. The Irish warrior was the barrier that stood between himself and Rosamond, and Rod was determined to remove that barrier. He already felt envy for the Irish knight, and now he had to add jealousy, if he was being honest.
******************
"Hilda tells me you refuse to be fitted for your wedding gown. You are to be wed on the morrow—what on earth is going on, Rosamond?" Lady Eleanor could not hide her annoyance. She had a hundred things to see to for the Yule celebration and another hundred for her household's removal to Durham House at Charing Cross, just outside the city of London.
"I have called off the wedding, Lady Eleanor. I cannot marry Rodger de Leyburn."
"What nonsense, you cannot call it off—the plans are set. You are just having the jitters; all brides suffer such misgivings."
"Sir Rodger lied to me—he manipulated me so that I would agree to the marriage."
"Rosamond, all men manipulate to get their way, aye and women too for that matter. 'Tis human nature. The betrothal has stood for years. You cannot play fast and loose with the man, saying yea one minute, nay the next. The two of you have traveled together—in the eyes of the world you are lovers. If you create a scandal now, no other man will have you."
Rosamond flushed rosily. How could she deny they were lovers when they had slept in the same bed? "He wants only my castles," she protested lamely.
"That shows he is ambitious, a quality to be admired. Rosamond, you are thinking only of yourself. Earl Simon wants this marriage; Lord Edward wants this marriage. The nuptials will help cement the bond that grows between them, and that bond is of paramount importance to the future of England. I want you to go up to the solar and let Hilda give you the final fitting for your gown."
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Rosamond lowered her lashes to mask the defiance she felt. / am just a pawn in their political power struggle! she told herself. She curtsied and headed for the stairs. Rosamond did not go to the solar, however. She went up to Kenilworth's battlements, into the cold fresh air where she could think. She filled her lungs with the invigorating winter air and gazed out over the sere landscape that showed pockets of snow lying beneath leafless trees.
Rodger de Leyburn dominated her thoughts. Why had he lied to her? Could it possibly have been because he was jealous of her feelings for Sir Rickard de Burgh? Her heart skipped a beat. If Rodger was jealous, did it mean his feelings for her ran deep? Nay, he had lied to get his own way!
"Rosamond . . . my lady." The beautiful voice with its Irish lilt brought her from her reverie.
She turned from the crenellated wall, and her eyes widened when she saw who spoke to her. "Sir Rickard," she breathed, unable to finish her sentence or even her thought. Had she conjured him? Rumor had it that he was a warlock with special powers. His resemblance to de Ley-burn was quite strong. They had the same green eyes and jet black hair, the same lithe and powerful build. Rosamond shivered.
"Permit me, lady." Sir Rickard drew off his cloak and gently laid it across her shoulders. Rosamond saw the weathered lines about his eyes and mouth, the silver threads in his ebony hair. "Would you walk with me, Rosamond?"
His manner was so chivalrous, she felt almost mesmerized. She placed her fingers on his outstretched arm and walked beside him. "You... you are newly returned from Ireland, Sir Rickard?"
"Yes, I carried messages to my father from Earl Simon."
"Is it true that your brother was married while you were there?" she asked in a rush.
"Yes, Mick was married," he said reflectively. "I understand you are to be wed tomorrow?"
"No! That is, I was to be married, but I have changed my mind."
"Sadly, that seems to be a lady's prerogative. I hope you have good reason, Rosamond. I hope it has naught to do with me."
Rosamond was agh
ast. Who had told him she fancied herself in
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love with him? Demi? Lady Eleanor? "I... I did have a tendresse for you, Sir Rickard . . . you are such a chivalrous knight... it was only a girlish fancy," she confessed. "Then my betrothed deliberately lied to me, telling me you had returned to Ireland to be wed." She laughed nervously. "I imagined myself to be heartbroken."
He placed a comforting hand over her fingers. "Sir Rodger did not lie to you, my dear. I did return to Ireland to be wed."
Rosamond stopped walking and searched his dark face.
"When I returned to Connaught, the lady told me she could not live with the special powers I have, and that in my absence she had fallen in love with my twin brother. Mick is far less complicated than I am."
"Oh, my lord, I am so very sorry! I know what it is to lose someone you love," she said passionately.
"Nay, Rosamond, 'twas no great tragedy. I lost my heart years ago to another. One I could never have."
She gazed up into his eyes and suddenly she knew. "It was Lady Eleanor, wasn't it?"
He smiled, remembering. "Princess Eleanor, already wed to the marshal of England. When he died, she swore a vow of chastity and almost became a nun."
"Earl Simon married the woman you loved," she said wistfully.
"I rejoiced that he did so. She needed a man strong enough to stand up to the king, and the bishops, even the Pope."
"But you loved her, Sir Rickard!"
His lips curved into a smile. His mouth was beautiful. "When you truly love someone, you want what is best for them. Earl Simon was best for Eleanor." He lifted her fingers to his lips. "Rodger de Leyburn is best for you, Rosamond."
She took in a swift breath. It seemed she was the only one in the world unsure of this marriage. "How do you know that?" she demanded. "Is it your gift of second sight?"