Susan Spencer Paul (4 page)

“I’ll only stay long enough to make certain you are taken care of, Rosaleen, and then I will leave. I am to become my own man,” he added before she could ask why he wouldn’t stay. “There was a fellow I fought beside in France, a baron named John Rowsenly, who possessed a fief called Briarstone, which he gambled away to me one night. I hadn’t meant to keep it, as it was his family home, but he was killed at Agincourt, and I have determined that I shall go and make my life there as best I can.”

He glanced at her and saw that she was gazing at him in disbelief.

“His people will be expecting me,” he went on, “for I sent them a missive regarding their lord’s death and assuring them that I would come and take care of them.”

She kept staring, and he said, almost defensively, “I cannot let them sit unprotected any longer. Any band of wandering knaves might wreak havoc, seeing the place unmanned. Rowsenly was a fool to wager away his holdings, but his people don’t deserve to be left alone because of it. I’m no great lord, but I can manage a small fief such as Briarstone without any trouble, I vow, and hold it safe against any intruders.”

Rosaleen regarded the masculine profile he offered her, then let her gaze wander over his broad shoulders, his hard, lean body and long, muscular arms and legs. His hands were as big and hard as the rest of him, yet looked agile and skilled. He was a beautiful man, a fighting man, and she had seen enough of such men to know that he was good at his trade. He’d have no difficulty protecting his little fief, she decided, and he already spoke of Briarstone with a pride of ownership, though he’d not yet set eyes on the place. It must be a very small estate, indeed, for she had never before heard of it.

“Rowsenly left no heirs? No wife or children?” she asked.

“Not that I know of. He never spoke of any, and when I won the deed to the place he assured me it was mine and no one else’s.”

“The king has a say in such matters, Hugh Caldwell, though you may not be aware of it. He could declare Sir Rowsenly’s lands forfeit to the throne and deed them to one of his favorites as a reward. It’s his right as your liege, you know.”

Her words brought a smile to Hugh’s lips. She was a high-handed little thing, thinking him so ignorant as to need such instruction. He was tempted to play the idiot and let her spend the next hour making a fool of herself. God’s mercy, it was going to be pleasant to see the look on her face when they finally rode through the gates of Castle Gyer and she realized just exactly who his brother was.

“I must needs take my chances on the king’s leniency, then, will I not?” Hugh asked, keeping his smile to himself. In truth, he had already sought the king’s approval for his taking of Briarstone, right after he had learned of John Rowsenly’s death. King Henry had offered to make a knight of him more times than Hugh could count, and when Hugh had appeared before him after Agincourt he had offered to do so once again, insisting that it was only right that one of his best soldiers, as well as the brother of one of his most favored barons, be knighted. But Hugh had refused, and instead had asked for the king’s favor regarding the matter of Briarstone. Henry had been only too happy to make him the master of the place, telling Hugh quite truthfully that it wasn’t so grand a fief that he’d ever want to make a gift of it to anyone who’d done him a good service. Hugh had been relieved once Henry’s approval had been given, for he hated seeking the favor of
any man, even his king, and had vowed immediately afterward that he would never again lower himself in such a way.

“Aye, that you will, Hugh Caldwell,” she answered, following the words with a
tsking
sound. “You’re a stubborn devil, and that’s as certain as the new moon rising. I think even Henry himself would have trouble standing against such a one as you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll not even give it a try,” Hugh replied confidently.

“Hugh Caldwell! ‘Tis your king you speak of!”

“Well, of course it is, Rosaleen. Who did you think I meant?”

“Oh, you
are
a devil,” she said, pursing her lips in disapproval. “I’ll wager your brother had his hands full when you were a boy.”

Her words sent the oddest sensation tingling down Hugh’s spine, and memory after memory waved in his mind. They were good memories, things he hadn’t let himself think of for a long time. Unable to stop himself, he laughed, and unwittingly gifted her with a smile…a real, true, honest, rare smile, not one invented from the depths of his anger and bitterness.

“That he did, Rosaleen no-name. That he most certainly did.”

“I
’ll not take my clothes off just because you tell me to, Hugh Caldwell!”

Rosaleen backed away, looking wildly around for some heavy object to throw, but Hugh kept coming at her, slowly and surely.

“Don’t be a fool, Rosaleen. I’m not going to ravish you. I only want to put some of this salve on your back, and then I’m going to put you to bed.”

“Ha!” Rosaleen cried, bumping into a table as she moved around the small room. “You admit your evil intentions, you…you…lewd fiend!”

Hugh gritted his teeth and felt a headache coming on. He was tempted to throw the ointment the innkeeper’s wife had given him that morn right out the window. If he hadn’t known that Rosaleen was suffering badly after their day’s long ride, he would have done just that, without the least hesitation, but she
was
suffering and he
was
going to put the salve on her. The girl was too damned stubborn to know what was good for her.

Drawing in a breath, he tried to speak more calmly. “Be reasonable. Your back pains you, and you’re hungry, and you’re so weary that you’re about to fall on your face. Let me put a little of this on your back to give you ease, then
I’ll go downstairs and fetch you something to eat while you get into the bed. How does that sound?”

Wonderful, Rosaleen thought, but that didn’t mean she was going to disrobe in front of the likes of Hugh Caldwell.

“I’ll put the salve on myself,” she countered, “and you may have one of the serving maids bring me something to eat.”

Hugh sighed, wondering if he’d ever met a more stubborn female in his life and realizing at once that he hadn’t. If he’d ever met a woman more exasperating than Rosaleen no-name, he never would have forgotten her.

“I didn’t bundle you into this inn in that heavy cloak for no reason at all, Rosaleen. If any of those men downstairs hear that I’m keeping a beautiful maiden in my room, I’ll end up having to kill half of them just to keep your precious virtue intact. I can’t take the chance of letting anyone see you, not even a maid. You understand that, do you not?”

A chill crept up Rosaleen’s spine. She hadn’t been able to make out much from the depths of the dark cloak Hugh Caldwell had made her wear into the inn, but she’d seen enough to know that the men patronizing the tavern were exactly the same sort who had accosted her two nights before.

“I understand,” she replied meekly.

“Good. Now take off your clothes and let me put this ointment on.”

Despite her weariness, Rosaleen hadn’t lost any of her fight.

“I’ll not, you lecher! You’re only doing this to take advantage of me!”

That was it. Hugh had had enough.

“If I’d wanted to take advantage of you, sweet, I would have done so last night when you were begging me to give you pleasure!”

Rosaleen gasped. “I never…I
never
did such a thing! You filthy beast!”

“Rosaleen,” he said in a low voice, advancing on her again, “I am tired, and I am hungry, and I want to go below stairs and have a welcome cup of ale, but most of all, my fine lady, I am past weary of being called every base name under God’s sun. Unless you want me to undress you myself you will remove…your…clothes.
Now!”

His roar seemed to shake the whole room, and Rosaleen knew that she had pushed him too far. She had only seen such a look of fury on one other man’s face, and the last time she had defied her uncle he had taken a whip and beaten her. It was that memory that defeated her, and she bowed her head. With shaking fingers she began to unlace her surcot.

Damn, he was in a foul mood!

Hugh hefted his third tankard of ale and wondered what devils beset him so that he felt more sharply than ever the need to ease the bitterness that was his constant companion. If someone didn’t give him a good reason to release his fury soon he would have to seek out a fight himself, and that was always a nuisance.

He set the tankard down and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes.

Damn her!
Damn
her! It was that wretched female’s fault, every bit of it, and he only hoped she was as miserable as he was. God’s teeth, he was beginning to hate women, the fickle, useless shrews. There was only one thing they were good for, and the particular female he was stuck with wasn’t even any good for that.

Damn her…Rosaleen. He was miserable. He didn’t want to think of her, didn’t even want to think her name. He had lost his temper, he’d shouted at her, and the fight had gone out of her as though he’d actually struck her a blow. She’d started removing her clothing with trembling obedience, sickening Hugh with the realization of what he’d done and enraging him anew at the bastard who had abused her so badly. He’d made her stop when she’d gotten to her chemise, and then, feeling as great a bastard as her uncle, he’d carefully put the salve on without exposing her skin to his sight. She’d slid into the bed without a word after that, and when he had later taken her a tray of food, she had still refused to speak to him. He’d come downstairs feeling like nothing better than a great, hulking bully and had every intention of drinking himself into oblivion and then soothing his nerves with a good, vigorous fight.

His sharp eyes roamed the crowded tavern with acute skill, rapidly picking out the potential opponents to be had. Briefly, his eyes rested upon the full-figured serving girl who had earlier made him an offer he almost hadn’t refused. She caught his gaze and winked at him, letting him know that the offer was still open, and Hugh eyed her prospectively. She wasn’t a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, but she had a fine body. Her breasts were lovely, Hugh knew, for she had waylaid him in the shadows of the stairwell and displayed them quite prettily. They were made for a man to enjoy, just as the rest of her was, and Hugh was highly tempted.

Yes, indeed. Highly tempted.

And he needed something to take his mind off the morrow, for tomorrow he would finally see Hugo. After ten years…

Hugo.

He shut his eyes and felt himself plunging headlong into hell.

The next moment he shot off his stool and approached the biggest man in the room.

“Here, friend,” he said, tapping the man’s shoulder. “If your mother’s as ugly as you are, then she must be the finest bitch in the king’s own kennels.”

The unknown man roared his outrage, the sound of which was solace to Hugh’s ears. He clenched his fists and knew with contentment that for the space of the next half hour he would be able to banish every thought of Rosaleen, and home, from his mind.

The soft stroke of fingers upon her cheek wakened Rosaleen. It was dark in the room, but the light of the moon spilling through the shutters offered some visibility. Blinking, she tried to focus but couldn’t make sense of what was before her eyes. It was broad and solid and fleshcolored, and lightly sprinkled with hair. She blinked again, and again.

“Tell me that isn’t you, Hugh Caldwell,” she whispered, “lying in my bed as naked as the day you were born.”

His fingers continued to caress her, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he replied, obediently, “It’s not me lying in your bed as naked as the day I was born.”

Slowly, her eyes moved upward to look into his face. He was smiling pleasantly, as relaxed and happy as could be, and Rosaleen forced herself to remain calm.

“What, may I ask, are you doing here?”

“Preparing to sleep, sweeting, and touching you.” His fingers ran lightly from her face down her throat and across the delicate bones of one shoulder. “Does this return memories, Rosaleen?”

It did, but the gentle touch of his hand made her tremble, and she was unable to speak.

She was as warm and soft beneath his fingers as Hugh had remembered her to be, and the stricken look in her eyes undid him.

“Yes,” he murmured, drawing closer. “Memories like this.”

His mouth closed over hers, and Hugh lost no time in pressing his tongue between her lips and into the welcoming warmth of her mouth. His arms enfolded her, careful of her healing back, and he pulled her against his painfully aroused body. She lay stiff and frightened for a long moment, and then, with a little cry, she gave way and set her arms around his neck.

“Yes, Rosaleen,” Hugh whispered, thrusting one leg between her thighs and drawing a moan from her lips. “Yes, love, like this. This is what we did with one another last night, and more. So much more. You’re remembering now, aren’t you,
my
sweet? You’re remembering the ways we pleasured one another.”

Rosaleen shook her head and tried to draw away from him. “No,” she murmured, unable to escape the heat of his hard body, of his mouth as it moved over her neck and shoulders, of his hands as they eagerly roamed her skin, pulling up her chemise and slipping beneath to caress her bare buttocks. He grasped her there, gently, holding her still as he rocked needily against her.

“No.” She pushed at him once more. “It was dreams. Dreams…”

“Not dreams, beautiful lady.” Hugh took one of her delicate hands and flattened it against his chest. “You touched me, and I touched you. Everywhere, love. Everywhere. Like this. Oh yes, little love, like this.” He kissed her again, deeply, and pressed her hand over his hot skin.
“Remember, Rosaleen,” he commanded. “Remember the pleasure we gave one another. I didn’t take your maidenhead, but I gave you a sweet release, just as you gave me. You were so beautiful in my arms, so eager. I couldn’t help myself, darling. I couldn’t help myself.”

It was too much for Rosaleen, too overwhelming.

“Please, stop,” she begged. “Please, Hugh, don’t.”

She tugged frantically to make him release her hand, but Hugh was too lost in his passion to heed her. He dragged her hand down his body toward the place where he so desperately wanted her touch.

“Touch me, Rosaleen. Please, my beautiful sweet. Touch me with your soft little hands and take me to heaven, just as I shall take you.”

This was wrong, Rosaleen thought wildly, struggling. Wrong, wrong,
wrong!

“No, Hugh! Oh God, don’t.
Don’t”

He was so much stronger than she, and he was just drunk enough with both ale and passion to mistake her struggles and cries for pleasure. Gently but insistently, he wrapped Rosaleen’s fingers around him, and for just a moment Rosaleen stilled with the amazing shock of what a man felt like.

Then, frightened, overwhelmed and horrified at her lack of courage, she burst into tears.

Nothing else had penetrated Hugh’s passion-riddled brain until that moment, but her sudden tears worked on him like a bucketful of icy water. Shocked, he released her.

“Rosaleen! What—” He didn’t know what to think. One moment they’d been making sweet love and the next she was sobbing her heart out. “Did I—God’s feet, sweeting, did I hurt you? Your back? Did I…did I squeeze you too hard or…” He was at a loss, and Rosaleen only lay there, crying. He placed a tentative hand on her shoul
der and she shoved it away. “Please, Rosaleen,” he pleaded. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Rosaleen was in a fury such as she had never before known. Even her uncle, at his worst, had never enraged her so greatly. She stopped her tears just long enough to glare at the man hovering worriedly above her.

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, you lecherous beast! I’ve been molested by the greatest bastard in King Henry’s kingdom! That’s what’s wrong!”

Hugh was so shocked that he sat up, but not fast enough to avoid the stinging slap Rosaleen gave him as she shot out of the bed.

“Molested!” he shouted indignantly. “You were as eager as I, wench! Don’t try to deny it! And don’t you
ever
strike me again!”

“Strike you!” she screeched.
“Strike you!
By, God, Hugh Caldwell, I’ll do more than strike you! I’m no tavern whore to be tumbled whenever you please! I’m a lady, you spawn of Satan!
A lady!”
She picked up a pillow and began to hit him with it, hard and repeatedly, while she continued raging.

“You-”
whack!
“—bastard! I’ll—”
whack!
“-teach you to—”
whack!
“—touch a lady in such a—”
whack!

“—crude manner! You—”
whack!
“—beast!”

Hugh held his arms up to counter her blows.

“Dammit, Rosaleen! Cease this!”
Whack!
“I said cease!”
whack!
“Cease or I’ll—”
whack!
“—turn you over my—”
whack!
“—knee!”

“I’d like to see you—”
whack!
“—do it, you rutting boar!”
Whack!
“Better men than you—”
whack! “—have tried to tame me, you hound from hell—” whack!
“—but I’ll bow my knee to no man—”
whack!
“—save the king—”
whack!
“—you randy satyr!”

Something that sounded suspiciously like laughter drifted up to Rosaleen’s ears, and two long, muscular arms reached up to grasp her, despite her efforts with the pillow. Hugh got a good hold on her, then tossed her to the bed, flinging the pillow away and pinning her beneath his body.

Rosaleen fought him, freeing one hand to hit his rockhard chest. “Let me go, you lecherous goat! Let me go!”

Hugh was laughing so hard he could barely speak. “R-Rosaleen! D-don’t!” He burst into another storm of laughter. “Stop it! S-stop, my 1-lady!”

“Oh!” Rosaleen cried, outraged. “How dare you laugh at me, you foul ravisher! How dare you!” She drew up a fist and hit his solid chest again, hurting herself more than him. “I hate you!”

Hugh tried to stop laughing. He tried so very hard, yet he couldn’t help himself. And Rosaleen didn’t help. He had never seen anyone more perfectly beautiful and selfrighteous in his life than she, outraged.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say, holding her tight even as she struggled against him. “No, ‘tis the truth I speak, Rosaleen.” He grinned into her furious face. “Last night you responded to me because you were drugged for your pain and hardly knew what you did. I assumed too much this night, thinking you would respond again just as readily. But I frightened you, did I not, my little innocent? You are but a maiden, and I have frightened you with my grown man’s desire.”

“You’re disgusting!” she said angrily. “You crawled into my bed to ravish me apurpose, even when you knew I wanted no such thing! Have you no morals at all?”