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Authors: Virginia Henley
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Rodger had seen her the moment she arrived. Not
only was she the tal est female present, she was the only one
with a glorious mass of golden hair. When she walked a direct
path to Richard of Gloucester, Rod held his breath. She
wouldn't dare be so reckless, he told himself fiercely. He
leaned over to Lord Edward and spoke briefly. Edward
summoned the squire standing behind his carved chair and
sent the youth hotfoot with a message for Gloucester.
"Lord Edward begs the pleasure of the lady's company, my
lord."
Rosamond overheard and hissed, "Edward never begs, he
commands."
Richard grinned. "And a command from a prince cannot be
ignored; royalty has its privileges, you know."
Rosamond closed her eyes and felt the color drain from her
cheeks. Blood of God, Richard, you have no idea!
When she arrived at the head table, a place had been set for
her between Edward and his steward. As Rod gal antly rose
and held her chair, Lord Edward's blue eyes glittered with
amusement. "Sir Rodger craves the pleasure of your
company."
"The pleasure is al his." Rosamond darted a swift glance of annoyance at the dark face beside her, and suddenly she
realized why she had been summoned away from Gloucester.
"Give me credit for some intel igence, my lord."
"Beauty, intel igence, and a temper of fire are a combustible
combination."
"Aye, come too close and you'l get burned!"
Rod immediately took up her chal enge by covering her hand
with his. Rosamond wanted to jab the point of her dinner knife
into his hand,
42
but control ed the impulse and instead pinched him hard,
drawing blood with her fingernails. He didn't even wince at the
pain, but his green eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are too
impulsive for your own good. It is time you were tamed."
Desire flared in his eyes and his groin, and he made no effort
to conceal it.
"Would you like the job?" she taunted, tossing back her hair.
Lord Edward dipped his head to murmur in her ear.
"Rosamond, I can hear every word of your byplay."
She flashed him a defiant look. "We have no secrets to hide."
The moment it was out of her mouth, she could have bitten off
her tongue. She felt Rod squeeze her fingers until they hurt,
but knew she deserved the warning to watch her impulsive
tongue.
He smoothly changed the subject to save her. "Tomorrow
should prove entertaining if you watch from the castle
ramparts. Earl Simon has proposed our men-at-arms swim
the mere in ful armor."
"Wil you be joining them?"
"Of course."
"Good! A plunge in freezing water might be just the cure for
that swel ing." She laughed wickedly, then added, "On your
hand."
Rodger de Leyburn was damned if he'd let her have the last
word. He had made inquiries about a knight cal ed Rickard
and learned it could be none other than Sir Rickard de Burgh,
whose wealthy Irish family owned everything west of the River
Shannon. When his squire, Griffin, had brought him the
information, a burning streak of envy had ripped through him.
Envy for such a father and such vast estates. Rosamond
Marshal had been breathless just speaking the man's name,
and he burned with jealousy.
"Your knight-errant, Sir Rickard de Burgh, has returned to
Ireland, I understand."
She drew in a swift breath. "Ireland?"
As he watched her his eyes burned with green fire.
"Something about a wedding. The bride is Irish, of course. I
suppose it's only natural to marry in one's homeland."
No, no, it cannot be! It cannot be! Rosamond felt as if a cruel
hand were squeezing her heart, and she feared it would not
stop until it burst. She sat there drowning in misery, oblivious
to everything about her,
43
aware only of the pain within. Her throat closed tightly so that
she could not speak, could not even breathe. Tears scalded
the back of her eyelids, and the roar inside her ears was
deafening.
Rodger watched Rosamond closely and saw her emotional
turmoil. He had relished giving her the news, but now felt a
prick of
only was she the tal est female present, she was the only one
with a glorious mass of golden hair. When she walked a direct
path to Richard of Gloucester, Rod held his breath. She
wouldn't dare be so reckless, he told himself fiercely. He
leaned over to Lord Edward and spoke briefly. Edward
summoned the squire standing behind his carved chair and
sent the youth hotfoot with a message for Gloucester.
"Lord Edward begs the pleasure of the lady's company, my
lord."
Rosamond overheard and hissed, "Edward never begs, he
commands."
Richard grinned. "And a command from a prince cannot be
ignored; royalty has its privileges, you know."
Rosamond closed her eyes and felt the color drain from her
cheeks. Blood of God, Richard, you have no idea!
When she arrived at the head table, a place had been set for
her between Edward and his steward. As Rod gal antly rose
and held her chair, Lord Edward's blue eyes glittered with
amusement. "Sir Rodger craves the pleasure of your
company."
"The pleasure is al his." Rosamond darted a swift glance of annoyance at the dark face beside her, and suddenly she
realized why she had been summoned away from Gloucester.
"Give me credit for some intel igence, my lord."
"Beauty, intel igence, and a temper of fire are a combustible
combination."
"Aye, come too close and you'l get burned!"
Rod immediately took up her chal enge by covering her hand
with his. Rosamond wanted to jab the point of her dinner knife
into his hand,
42
but control ed the impulse and instead pinched him hard,
drawing blood with her fingernails. He didn't even wince at the
pain, but his green eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are too
impulsive for your own good. It is time you were tamed."
Desire flared in his eyes and his groin, and he made no effort
to conceal it.
"Would you like the job?" she taunted, tossing back her hair.
Lord Edward dipped his head to murmur in her ear.
"Rosamond, I can hear every word of your byplay."
She flashed him a defiant look. "We have no secrets to hide."
The moment it was out of her mouth, she could have bitten off
her tongue. She felt Rod squeeze her fingers until they hurt,
but knew she deserved the warning to watch her impulsive
tongue.
He smoothly changed the subject to save her. "Tomorrow
should prove entertaining if you watch from the castle
ramparts. Earl Simon has proposed our men-at-arms swim
the mere in ful armor."
"Wil you be joining them?"
"Of course."
"Good! A plunge in freezing water might be just the cure for
that swel ing." She laughed wickedly, then added, "On your
hand."
Rodger de Leyburn was damned if he'd let her have the last
word. He had made inquiries about a knight cal ed Rickard
and learned it could be none other than Sir Rickard de Burgh,
whose wealthy Irish family owned everything west of the River
Shannon. When his squire, Griffin, had brought him the
information, a burning streak of envy had ripped through him.
Envy for such a father and such vast estates. Rosamond
Marshal had been breathless just speaking the man's name,
and he burned with jealousy.
"Your knight-errant, Sir Rickard de Burgh, has returned to
Ireland, I understand."
She drew in a swift breath. "Ireland?"
As he watched her his eyes burned with green fire.
"Something about a wedding. The bride is Irish, of course. I
suppose it's only natural to marry in one's homeland."
No, no, it cannot be! It cannot be! Rosamond felt as if a cruel
hand were squeezing her heart, and she feared it would not
stop until it burst. She sat there drowning in misery, oblivious
to everything about her,
43
aware only of the pain within. Her throat closed tightly so that
she could not speak, could not even breathe. Tears scalded
the back of her eyelids, and the roar inside her ears was
deafening.
Rodger watched Rosamond closely and saw her emotional
turmoil. He had relished giving her the news, but now felt a
prick of
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