The Marriage Prize (4 page)

"Thank you, my lord earl."

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aunt Eleanor de Montfort. She felt relieved that he looked

much the same as she remembered. Compared with his

cousin Edward, who was so physical y mature, Harry's rosy

cheeks and chestnut curls made him look youthful in the

extreme. Rosamond knew he resembled his mother, Isabel a,

but she was careful not to stir painful memories by tel ing him

so, for lovely Isabel a Marshal was dead. His father, Richard of

Cornwal , the brother of King Henry, was now remarried to a

foreign princess.

"Harry! Thank heavens the fighting is over and you are safe."

"What rubbish! I am a soldier; I enjoy fighting. I now lead my

own troop of men from Cornwal . There is nothing like a Welsh

campaign to turn adolescents into men. Have you seen

Edward?"

"Yes, he is greatly changed, but not nearly so much as Rodger

deLeyburn I did not know him!"

"Rod is two years older than Edward. He came to manhood

before the rest of us. The ladies are mad for him, cannot resist

that dark, dangerous face."

"I can resist him! He is paying unwanted attention to me, and I

need you beside me at supper to make him keep his

distance."

"You must be daft in the head, Rosamond. Everyone loves

Rod; he makes friends easier than any man I've ever met. He

has qualities that

16

THE MARRIAGE PRIZE

make others genuinely like him. He's Edward's favorite and

the undisputed leader of the bachelor knights. You should

consider yourself lucky to receive his attentions."

"Wel , I do not. In fact I wish to end the betrothal."

"Has a maggot eaten your brain? He can have any woman he

desires; he doesn't have to settle for you, Rosamond."

"Settle for me?" She lifted her chin and kicked at her train.

"Harry, you stil have a very blunt tongue. I should box your

bloody ears."

He grinned boyishly. "Ah, but you need me at supper."

Richard de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, clapped Harry on the

shoulder. "Behave yourself, little brother, I've got my eye on

you!" Richard was Isabel a Marshal's eldest son from her first

marriage, to Gilbert de Clare. Harry was her son by her

second husband, the king's brother, Richard of Cornwal .

Richard de Clare was twelve years older than Harry, and

though both had inherited their mother's fair complexion,

Richard had florid cheeks that quickly turned even redder

whenever his famous temper flared out of control.

"Richard!" Rosamond gave him a kiss of welcome. "I had no idea you were here; I expected you would ride straight to

Gloucester."

"I am here to demonstrate my support for Simon. More nobles

wil ride in every day, and the names of those gathered at

Kenilworth wil be reported to the king. If he sees that we are

solidly united against him, he wil not dare make trouble."

Rosamond's sparkling eyes clouded. Why couldn't everyone

live in peace? One fight was barely settled before they were

discussing the next. Her brows drew together. If Earl Simon

and the king were again drawing up sides, what the devil was

the king's son doing at Kenilworth? It was inconceivable that

Edward would turn against his father. It occurred to Rosamond

that Lord Edward and his men could be spying. Then it came

to her that perhaps that was exactly what Earl Simon wanted

them to do. He was far too clever and seasoned to al ow a

pack of arrogant young wolves to outwit him.

Suddenly, Rosamond's hopes soared. If lines were being

drawn between the earl and King Henry, then surely Simon

and Eleanor de Montfort would not al ow their ward to marry

Rodger de Leyburn, who would be in the enemy camp.

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With a sense of relief and a renewed confidence that her

betrothal would be broken, Rosamond placed her hand on her

cousin Harry's arm and al owed him to lead her up onto the

dais. When de Leyburn greeted her with a bow and held a

chair for her, Rosamond walked past him as if he were

invisible.

Harry led her to Lord Edward's side, intending to seat

Rosamond between the prince and himself, when suddenly he

caught an unmistakable look of royal disapproval. Harry did

an immediate about-face. "Rod, would you take my seat next

to Rosamond? I see my brother Gloucester summoning me."

"Be damned to you, Harry," she hissed, chagrined that he put loyalty to his friends before her.

Edward's blue eyes glittered with amusement. "You may have

the airs of a lady, but you stil have that blunt Marshal tongue."

He winked at his friend. "Rod, it seems you wil have your

work cut out for you, trying to curb her. I don't envy you."

"I wager every other man in the hal envies me, my lord." His words were gal ant, but the devilish gleam in his green eyes

told her plainly he would relish the chal enge of bringing her to

heel.

"A spirited young fil y needs a strong hand and a touch of the

spurs," Edward teased unmerciful y.

"And unruly young stal ions are in need of the horse whip,"

Rosamond retorted.

"Touché! My lord, the lady has wit." Rod's mouth curved with appreciation. He gestured to his squire, Griffin, to pour them

wine, then he lifted his goblet to salute her.

Rosamond sipped her own wine, then ran the tip of her tongue

over her lips. "Nay, it simply passes for wit when I banter with

those who are witless."

"She must mean you, Rod; to cal a prince of the realm witless

would be tantamount to treason." Clearly, Edward was

enjoying himself.

Rodger smiled into her eyes. "Very likely I was witless when

last we met. I was only seventeen."

She was seventeen! Was the damned fel ow insulting her? "I

don't recal anything about you. What do you remember about

me?" she asked pointedly.

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His mouth curved. "You trailed about with the dogs, wading in

the mere, looking very bedraggled. When Harry cal ed you a

drowned rat, you pelted al of us with stones."

"Cursing like a demon," Edward added.

Rosamond blushed at the picture they painted of her. "If my

manners were so appal ing, then it must have been my

manors that you found so appealing." She had the satisfaction

of seeing Rodger de Ley-burn stiffen at her insinuation.

The smile also left Edward's face. "What the devil are you

getting at?"

She continued heedlessly. "Why did he offer for me? There is

only one answer: because I am an heiress," she said bluntly.

"No, Rosamond, you are quite mistaken," the prince retorted, his voice sharp with annoyance. "He offered for you because I

asked him to. It was an arrangement that pleased everyone.

The barons were forever screaming about our heiresses

being given to foreigners, so I made sure you went to an

Englishman."

Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks in dismay at Edward's

annoyance. She had brought this humiliation upon herself. It

was her cursed insecurity raising its ugly head. A sense of

inadequacy had dogged her since childhood. Losing her

parents and brother had made her feel unworthy of a family

and somehow undeserving of love. Suddenly, Rosamond felt

her hand being covered by another. Its comforting warmth

seeped into her.

"You were a prize beyond belief. It was my great honor to

betroth a lady from the noble Marshal family."

Was Rodger de Leyburn sincere or was he mocking her? she

wondered wildly. At least his words had restored the prince's

good humor; Rosamond saw that Edward was once more

grinning.

"I am the only married man among my bachelor knights; it is

time that I had company," the prince said.

"But you are married in name only," Rosamond pointed out

bluntly. She felt de Leyburn squeeze her fingers in warning.

"Not for much longer. Eleanora of Castile wil soon be sixteen.

Elegant quarters have been especial y designed for her at

Windsor."

"Do you even remember her, my lord?" Rosamond

chal enged.

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"I certainly remember the splendid entertainments at the

wedding in Castile—the vivid colors of the costumes. The

tournaments they held were spectacular. I was knighted by

King Alphonso and gifted with a magnificent Spanish charger.

It served me wel in the jousting; I unseated every chal enger."

At the mention of jousting, Rosamond snatched back her

hand. "Wel , the horse made a lasting impression, if the bride

did not," she said with exquisite sarcasm.

Lord Edward was distracted from the conversation by the

presentation of the dessert, which Lady Eleanor had arranged

in his honor. A dozen huge plum puddings, floating in syl abub,

were brought in on silver salvers. A lit torch was touched to

each, setting them ablaze, then they were carried around the

hal as the flames turned to blue fire. Musicians fol owed,

playing the beautiful, haunting melodies of Wales to celebrate

the success of the recent campaign.

Rodger de Leyburn was acutely aware of the young female

who sat beside him. He studied her lovely profile in the

flickering blue light and could only guess at her thoughts. The

gods must surely have been smiling upon him the day he

betrothed the unremarkable twelve-year-old. Edward had

arranged the match for him as a reward because the Marshal

girl was an heiress. Who could have known she would turn into

a cool beauty with a hot temper—an utterly tantalizing

woman? He knew she wanted nothing to do with him and

would do her utmost to end the betrothal. But what she wanted

made not the slightest difference to him. Now that he had

seen her, he intended to have her. And sooner rather than

later.

His glance moved over to the prince's profile. What Earl

Simon said was true: he and Edward were much alike. They

were both cursed with insatiable ambition. That was the

reason for their deep friendship, that and the fact that they

knew each other's secrets, and would keep them at any cost.

At any cost... the words echoed in his mind as he glanced

about the hal , counting the men who would let nothing stand in

their way to achieve a goal. How many were prepared to do

anythingor sacrifice anyone? There were only two. Simon de

Montfort and Edward Plantagenet. What of himself? he

wondered. In the dark depths of his soul he suspected that his

20

own name would raise the count to three. He had already

committed most of the seven deadly sins in his twenty-two

years. He was guilty of al but sloth. That had been his father's

sin, and because of it his family had been reduced to grinding

poverty. Thank God his uncle had ambition. Through his

influence at court, he had secured his nephew an appointment

as page and told Rodger his future was in his own hands. Rod

looked down at those hands now and he smiled. There was

no way he was going to let Rosamond Marshal slip through

his fingers.

The talk of marriage unsettled Rosamond, and the moment

the servitors began to clear the tables, she made her escape.

The Demoisel e joined her, fil ed with breathless curiosity. "Oh, Rosamond, he is so handsome! What did he say to you? "

"Lord Edward?" Rosamond teased.

"No, sil y, Rodger de Leyburn."

"You think him handsome?"

"Oh yes. Tal , dark men are so compel ing. When I looked up

into those green eyes, I went weak at the knees and felt my

heart turn over. What about you? "

"Yes, he had a similar effect on me ... I felt my stomach turn

over."

Demi laughed. "Oh, Rosamond, you are so bad."

"I know. I deliberately accused him of betrothing me because I

am an heiress."

"But that is the only reason any of us receive offers of

marriage. The daughters of noble families are not married for

love. Is that what you secretly long for, Rosamond?"

"Love? " Rosamond scoffed. "That's the last thing I want!" She had lost everyone she had ever loved. She would never let

herself care so deeply about anyone ever again. "I shan't sit

with him tomorrow night," she vowed fiercely. "I shal find some way to break off this accursed betrothal. He is obviously a

determined devil, but if he thinks I wil wed him and hand over

my dowry, he is doomed to disappointment!"

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Simon and Eleanor's apartments were high in Kenilworth's

great Caesar Tower. After the banquet, when he climbed the

stairs and opened the door to their private sanctuary, he saw

that his wife had lit scented candles and placed them on the

hearth before the crackling fire.

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Simon's blood began to throb with anticipation. He knew that

Eleanor liked the warmth of a fire in their bedchamber so that

she could walk about nude. He felt his pulse beating heavily in

his throat, and in his groin, as Eleanor came through the

adjoining door. She had removed her jewels and gown, but

stil wore her shift and stockings, so that he could finish

undressing her. He opened his arms and she ran to him