Until You

Chapter 8

The Scottish ambassador’s villa rang with laughter as the entertainer with the dogs set his animals to dancing. The early evening was fair and warm. The great terrace, where the rectangular oak dining table had been set out, was lit by delicate lanterns strung over the area and great footed candelabras set about the red tiled floor. The guests had eaten well and now were being diverted by a traveling troupe of players who sang, danced, and provided other amusements for the ambassador’s guests. No one paid a great deal of attention when the Earl of Glenkirk left the table to be followed shortly thereafter by Baroness Von Kreutzenkampe. The lady moved discreetly through the terrace doors back into the villa.

“This way, madame,” she heard the earl’s voice directing her, and following the sound, she moved across the salon and out into the hall where he awaited her. “Come with me, my dear baroness,” Patrick said, and taking her hand, he led her into the ambassador’s private library, where he seated her.

“You are a careful man, my lord,” she murmured. “That was very well done, but that the artist was watching us.”

“He represents the doge as you represent the emperor,” Patrick replied.

“Gott im himmel! That popinjay?”

The earl laughed. “He does give that impression publicly, but believe me, madame, he is a clever fellow.”

“The buffoon is a pose, then?” she asked, and when he nodded she smiled. “I would not have thought the old doge so clever yet. It is said his mind wanders. I thank you for telling me, but then you meant to put me on my guard with the Venetian, my lord. What is it that you want of the emperor?”

“I come from King James of Scotland, baroness. My master is concerned that this alliance your emperor has formed with the English king may not be to his advantage.”

Irina Von Kreutzenkampe laughed her throaty laugh. “Your master has been Pope Julius’ favorite for many years, my lord. Now the pope treats with the English king. Is King James jealous? I know little of him but that he is said to be noble and devout.”

“He is extremely honorable, baroness, and it is this very honor that prevents him from joining your Holy League. France has ever been Scotland’s ally. King James has no just cause to betray King Louis, and he will not. King Henry knows this, and he uses his knowledge to incite the pope to another way while driving a wedge between Scotland and the Holy Father. Henry Tudor is an ambitious and dangerous man. I think your emperor has little idea of how treacherous an ally he is dealing with, baroness.”

“What is it you want of the emperor, my lord?” she asked him. “Emperor Maximilian is also an honorable gentleman. He has committed himself to the pope’s cause. You know he has little choice, as he reigns at the pope’s pleasure.”

“I know your master will no more break his word than will mine,” the earl replied. “But Scotland would warn Maximilian that he is dealing with a ruthless man in Henry of England. My master asks nothing more of yours than that he understand that England does nothing that is not to its full benefit. Do you really believe that King Henry will commit his troops to war here on the continent? Perhaps. And perhaps not. What he does he does so that when he decides to go to war with Scotland, he has the full support of the pope, Spain, Venice, and your emperor. Yet what benefit would England’s war with Scotland have for you? And Scotland is both prosperous and peaceful. They desire to war with no one.”

“Is not your queen Henry Tudor’s sister?” the baroness inquired.

“She is. But it matters not to England’s king. Perhaps you have heard the story of how Queen Margaret’s grandmother left her jewelry to be equally divided between her two granddaughters and her grandson’s queen. Yet King Henry has refused to part with the share meant for Queen Margaret. Our queen finally, and most regretfully, told her younger brother he might keep it all, for King James would give her the cost of her grandmother’s jewels twice over. It was a gallant thing to say, for it was not the worth of the gems that meant anything to Queen Margaret. Their value for her was sentimental, for the queen loved the grandmother for whom she was named most dearly. This is the kind of man Henry Tudor of England is.”

“This is most interesting information, my lord, and I appreciate your candor in revealing it to me. Still, your master must know that Emperor Maximilian will not break this alliance he has made with the pope and the pope’s allies.” But her look was very thoughtful as she spoke. The Earl of Glenkirk had indeed brought her valuable information. She regretted she must disappoint him. She smiled sympathetically. “I am sorry.”

“King James would never ask another honorable gentleman to break his trust, baroness,” the earl replied, smiling back at her. “He but hopes the insight he has to offer will cause the emperor to move cautiously when dealing with Henry Tudor.”

“I will see that the emperor knows everything that you have told me, my lord,” the baroness responded. Then she rose from her seat. “I think it is best that we now return as discreetly as we may to the terrace, lest gossip ensue regarding our relationship. I would not want to distress your mistress. She is very beautiful. But she is not Scottish.”

“Nay. She is English,” he answered the baroness, amused. She was really quite transparent in her desire for more information. “Rosamund is the queen’s dear friend.”

“Ah, so you met her at King James’ court. Of course.”

“Aye,” the earl replied, and he took Irina Von Kreutzenkampe by the arm and led her from the library and back to where the other guests were assembled.

“Does Lord Howard know her?”

“She tells me they have never met,” he answered as they walked onto the terrace.

“And you believe her?” The baroness was curious now about this Scots earl with the English mistress who was the queen’s friend yet did not know the English ambassador. If the lady was the queen’s friend, they must have known each other from the English court.

“Why would I disbelieve her?” Patrick asked.

“My lord, I cannot believe you are that naive!” Irina Von Kreutzenkampe exclaimed.

It was then he understood her, and Patrick laughed. “Rosamund was briefly with the English court as a child. It was there she became friends with Margaret Tudor, but she lives in Cumbria, in the borderland between England and Scotland. She has no connection at all with King Henry’s court.”

“And no husband obviously,” Irina murmured, still probing.

“She is a widow,” he replied with a small grin. “With three daughters and a rather large estate full of sheep. Is that what you need to know, madame?”

The baroness had the good grace to flush, and the blood rushing to her face made more obvious the pockmarks she bore. “I beg your pardon, my lord. My duty is to gain as much information for the emperor as I can. I have overstepped the bounds of good manners, however, and I do apologize.”

“It would be impossible for me not to forgive you, my dear Irina.” He smiled, his eyes skimming over her ample bosom. Then he took her hand up and kissed it.

“You are very gallant in your manner, my lord,” she told him, wondering as she withdrew her hand whether she might seduce him. He was not a young man, yet he had a young mistress who bore the look of a woman well satisfied. Her blue eyes studied him.

“I am flattered,” he said, “but I am very much in love with the lady.”

Again the baroness blushed. “Do you divine minds, then, my lord?” It was said angrily, for she was angry at herself for being so transparent.

Patrick laughed softly and said, “Do not be angry, my dear Irina. As I have previously said, I am flattered.” Then, with a courtly bow, he left her. Slipping into his seat next to Rosamund, he leaned over and kissed her shoulder.

“She is offended,” Rosamund said quietly. “What did you do?”

“I refused her,” he replied just as softly.

“Was that wise?” Rosamund wondered.

“What? Would you have me seduce her?” He was surprised.

“Nay. But you might have given her reason to hope and kept her friendship, my lord,” she told him.

“She asks too many questions,” the earl replied.

“About me, I assume. Of course she does. She is friends with Lord Howard, I have learned. Or so he believes.”

“Aye, he would believe it. But trust me when I tell you, Rosamund, that Irina does nothing without considering how it would effect the emperor and her own position. It is not in her best interests or those of Emperor Maximilian to seduce the English ambassador,” Patrick said. And he chuckled. “She would make a right armful, however, my darling.” And he laughed aloud when Rosamund shot him a furious look.

“Well, ’twas you who suggested I seduce her,” he defended himself.

“I most certainly did not!” Rosamund responded indignantly.

He grinned. “MacDuff says his piper will play for us this evening, sweetheart.”

“The maestro says my portrait is coming along nicely, but he will not let me see it until it is finished,” she told him, changing the subject.

“What are you wearing?” he asked her.

“Lavender draperies,” she purred sweetly. “I decided that as long as he has seen me as God fashioned me, and since Annie is with me, I would pose for him as he wanted. As the goddess of love.”

He was uncertain whether he was angry or amused. “Are your breasts bare?” he queried her.

“Only the left one,” she replied innocently.

“Not the right?” His eyes were now dancing with amusement.

“Nay. Only the left,” she told him. “I am a modest goddess, my lord.”

“I am relieved to know it. But what am I to do with a portrait of a bare-breasted goddess, lovey? I can hardly hang it at Glenkirk.”

“Then why did you commission a portrait of me, my lord?” she wondered, and she reached for her goblet to sip at her wine.

“I wanted you to have it to remind you of our days here in San Lorenzo,” he said softly, and he kissed her shoulder again.

“The maestro paints this portrait for himself,” Rosamund said. “He will never let you have it. I have arranged, however, for him to paint your portrait so I may have a tangible memory of you when we are no longer together. I desire no reflection of my image, Patrick, and you could hardly hang a painting of me at Glenkirk, especially one with a bared breast.” She chuckled. “From what you have told me of your daughter-in-law, the lady Anne, she would most definitely not approve.”

He laughed. “Nay, poor Anne would be quite shocked,” he agreed.

“So now, my lord, what are we to do? You have spoken with the baroness, and she has, I expect, told you that her emperor will not cooperate with King James,” Rosamund said low.

“Aye, but if we are to complete the impression of two lovers who have run away for a time from their responsibilities, then we must remain here in San Lorenzo for another month or so,” the earl said. “Besides, the maestro will need more time to complete his goddess of love,” he teased her. “Will you mind remaining away from your beloved Friarsgate longer? I know how much you love your home.”

“Where you are is my home, Patrick,” she told him, tears in her eyes. “We will return eventually, and I must go with you to court, for I promised the queen I should come back. I cannot disappoint her. She has been a good friend. We will spend the summer at Friarsgate, and my daughters will come to know you. And you will meet my family, Patrick. They will like you.”

“And you will come to Glenkirk with me in the autumn,” he said.

Rosamund shook her head. “I think not, my darling, for I do not believe that your son would be pleased to know that you have found love. I would present a threat in his eyes, and I shall not be the cause of a rift between you and Adam.”

“You cannot know that,” he said.

“But I do,” she answered him. “If I were in your son’s position, I should feel threatened that my father brought home a beautiful young mistress. And mayhap not just a bit jealous given the wife I have chosen. Not this year, Patrick, but in time, when Adam has learned to accept I am no threat to him, or to Glenkirk, then I will come. I promise. For now we will enjoy the San Lorenzo sun and the warm days and nights. We shall swim together in the sea, and we shall have our portraits painted.”

“And spend our nights making love, my darling,” he said, his glance heated.

She smiled. “Aye, I shall live for the nights, Patrick,” she told him.

“Have you spoken to your Annie?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I have done something far more clever. I do not wish to broach that delicate subject with her. I thought it best that they come to us regarding the matter. Before I came down tonight, I left the drawing the maestro made upon the table in our dayroom where Annie will be certain to see it. I expect she and Dermid are even now setting the date. We have hardly set an exemplary example for our servants to follow, my lord.”

“We are their betters,” he said. “Our privileges are greater under such circumstances.”

“Because we are their betters it is even more important we set them a pattern for good behavior,” Rosamund responded.

“Yet you will not marry me,” he replied quietly.

“Nay, I will not, for I am not of a mind to marry again. But I will also not bring your bastard into this world, my lord. Dermid cannot guarantee Annie that, can he? I should not be surprised if his seed has already taken root in the foolish girl’s hidden garden. But when Annie sees that drawing she will know we know of their misdeeds. They will certainly come to us for permission to wed, and we will give it. Moreover, we will witness the deed, Patrick.”

“You are certainly wickedly clever, my love,” he told her admiringly.

“I have been managing my servants since I was barely out of leading strings,” she answered him. “It is better in a case like this not to plunge head-on into accusations and recriminations, Patrick. It leads to resentment and bitterness. Though some will not admit to it, those who serve have feelings also. I wish Annie and her Dermid to continue to serve us happily, not angrily.”

He nodded. “I think you are wise as well as clever, Rosamund,” he said.

And the following day he was hard put not to chuckle aloud when Dermid, serious of demeanor, came to solemnly request his master’s permission to ask Lady Rosamund for Annie’s hand in marriage. “You wish to take a wife?” he asked. “Aye, ’tis a good thing for a man to have a wife, Dermid. There is no lass at Glenkirk who takes your fancy? You would have this English girl? You may have to remain in England, then, you understand. Have you discussed this with the lass?”

“Annie says she’ll go wherever I go, my lord,” Dermid answered. “If we stays at this Friarsgate, she says, her lady will give me a place in her service and we will have a cottage of our own. My younger brother, Colm, would gladly serve you in my place, my lord. But if you desire it, we will come to Glenkirk. I know you would see Annie had a place in your household.”

The earl nodded. “I would happily give her a place, though she will find my son’s wife a harder mistress to serve, Dermid. That is not a decision you need make now, however. But answer me this, Dermid. What if war should break out between Scotland and England again? What will you do then?”

“Wars are fought, ’tis true, my lord, by men like me. But they is begun by men like you. I do not think our good King Jamie will begin a war. But Annie and me must take our chances if war comes. She says Friarsgate is as isolated as is Glenkirk. If there is war, perhaps both places will escape the chaos. It is the best we can hope for, my lord.”

“Aye,” Patrick agreed. “Go along, then, Dermid, for you have my permission to speak with Lady Rosamund.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Dermid said, and he hurried off.

Well, the earl considered, Dermid and Annie had obviously been thinking marriage all along. Their passions had just gotten the better of them. He understood, and he knew that Rosamund did, too, which was why she had not approached their servants angrily. Why, he thought, why had he not met her sooner? Why had fate waited until this moment in his life to bring him love such as few men ever know? Why was it that they both knew deep in their hearts that while their love for each other would never die, they would be parted sooner than later? He sighed deeply. His soul was too Celtic for him to rail at the fates. He realized that he was fortunate to have been given the gift of Rosamund Bolton at all. That such a young and lovely woman could so eagerly give him not just her body, but her heart as well, was a miracle. He wondered what life had in store for her once they were parted. Then he shook his head impatiently. He should not question. He should just accept and be grateful for whatever time they had left. He looked out into the ambassador’s gardens where Dermid was even now engaged in earnest conversation with Rosamund. He wondered what was being said, but he could imagine.

Dermid had found Annie’s lady by the fishpond, contemplating the golden fish darting back and forth among the lily pads and water hyacinths. He knew that she was aware of his presence, and so he waited patiently. Finally Rosamund looked up from the marble bench where she was seated.

“Yes, Dermid, what is it?”

He bowed very politely. “I have come, my lady, with my master’s permission, to request your consent to wed with your Annie,” he said in a breathless rush. Then he flushed beet red, and his eyes dropped to his leather-shod feet.

“And Annie is in agreement?” Rosamund responded seriously.

“She would give me no answer until you gave your permission, my lady, but I believe she will say yes,” he said.

“Annie has always been a good girl, Dermid, and an obedient servant,” Rosamund noted dryly, “although I think she has not been so careful of my admonitions of late. I will count upon you to see that she is in the future. If you decide to remain at Friarsgate, there is a place for you. If you decide to take Annie to Glenkirk, you will go with my blessings. You have my permission to ask her to wed. If she says yes, then the marriage shall be celebrated as quickly as possible. The earl and I will stand witness to your vows. I shall dower Annie as I would any of my personal servants. She will come with three changes of clothing, a warm winter cloak, a pair of leather shoes, an iron pot and an iron pan, two wooden bowls with pewter spoons, two pewter mugs, bedding, and five silver pennies. If you decid to remain at Friarsgate, I will eventually see you have a cottage, but for now you will be given a small room in my house.”

His mouth had dropped open with surprise as Annie’s dower portion was enumerated. “I had no idea Annie was so well propertied a lass,” he said honestly.

“I do not stint those who serve me faithfully and well,” Rosamund replied. “Now, go and find Annie. I am sure she is anxious. You will both return to me when all is settled, and we will consider the date together with his lordship.”

“Yes, my lady!” Dermid bowed and almost ran from the garden.

Rosamund smiled, watching him go. If only all of life were that easy, she thought. If only… She sighed. If was the most difficult word in the English language. Then she heard footsteps on the gravel path, and looking up, smiled at Patrick. “They will be back shortly, and we will help them choose a date,” she said as he sat down on the marble bench next to her. “Let us make it as soon as the church will allow. I would have them enjoy San Lorenzo without guilt, as we are, my lord.”

“You have a romantic heart, sweetheart,” he told her, taking her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the back, then each finger in turn, and finally the palm.

She smiled at him. “I surely must, for I fell in love with you at first sight, Patrick.”

“And I with you,” he responded. “Ah, Rosamund, sometimes my heart aches at just the sight of you, for I love you so.”

Quick tears rose in her amber eyes. She blinked them back. “I still sometimes fear to waken from this most marvelous of dreams to find Logan Hepburn pounding on my door and demanding that I sire a son for him,” she half-laughed. “Still, I hope he is happy with his Jeannie. I think his family chose well for him.”

“You think of him?” Patrick found he was jealous, though he knew he had no reason to be.

“Not really,” she answered quietly. Her tone bade him to leave the issue, for to question her loyalty to him would be unforgivable.

And before either of them might pursue it further, Annie and Dermid returned to stand before them. Both had rather foolish smiles upon their faces.

“It is settled, then,” the earl said to them.

“Aye, my lord!” Dermid replied, grinning. “Annie has agreed to be my wife.”

“The marriage must be celebrated as soon as the church will allow,” Rosamund told them. “I shall speak with the bishop today.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady!” Annie cried. “And Dermid has told me how generous you are being to me. I thank you again!” She caught up her mistress’ hand and kissed it fervently. “We don’t deserve it, either of us, after we was so bad. But I swear it was only that one time, and we couldn’t help it!”

“The likeness, as caught by the maestro, was most remarkable,” Rosamund murmured.

“He’s a bad man, that one!” Annie said indignantly. “And speaking of the devil, he is awaiting you on the terrace, my lady. He says you should have been ready in your costume, for his time is valuable. The nerve of the fellow!”

Rosamund laughed at this, as did the earl. “I completely forgot he was coming,” she admitted. “Annie, you and Dermid may have the rest of the day off to celebrate your betrothal. His lordship will keep us company while the artist works today.”

“Thank you, my lady!” Annie said again. “I’ll tell the bold fellow you will be with him shortly.” Then she and Dermid hurried off, chattering as they went.

“I will enjoy watching the Venetian work,” the earl said, amused. “I doubt he will be pleased to see me.”

Rosamund laughed again. “Nay, he will not. He is always attempting to get Annie to leave me on one pretext or another. He has obviously not given up his intentions to seduce me. I am proving a great challenge to him.” She arose from the bench. “Come along, Patrick. I should not keep him waiting any longer. While I change into my costume you must tell him you have decided to view him at his work today.”

The earl chuckled. “The fool would never appreciate you, Rosamund, as I do. He just wants to crawl between your luscious thighs.”

“I know,” she responded. “I have to admit I enjoy teasing him about it, but today, my lord, with your presence in mind, I shall be a model of decorum.”

They returned to the villa, and Rosamund hurried to their apartment to change. She found that Annie had laid out her costume. She looked at it critically for the first time. She had not considered that Patrick might actually see her in the garment. It was, the artist had told her, called a chiton. It was of sheer lavender-colored silk and fastened on one shoulder by means of a heart-shaped golden broach, leaving her left breast exposed to view. The garment fell in graceful folds, the waist girded by a delicate twisted golden rope. Still, every line of her body was visible, Rosamund now realized. She might as well be posing naked for the maestro, which was, she suddenly understood, just what he had wanted in the first place. The entire circumstance had amused her so that until now she hadn’t been aware of what a fox Paolo Loredano truly was.

But to admit her naivety at this point would be a defeat, and she did not intend to suffer defeat at the hands of this wretched artist. Rosamund stepped out onto the terrace where the Earl of Glenkirk was even now seated, engaging Paolo Loredano in conversation. “My dear maestro, I do apologize for keeping you waiting,” she cooed, and she saw Patrick’s dark eyebrow quirk with his amusement. She realized that her lover knew her well enough to understand that she had become fully aware of the situation. There was still an innocence about Rosamund that delighted him.

“My darling,” his voice boomed. “How charming you look. I congratulate you, maestro, in your choice of costume. But should her hair not be loose about her shoulders?”

“Sм! Sм!” Paolo Loredano exclaimed. “You have the artist’s eye, my lord. I have not yet concentrated upon her hair, as I have been busy sketching in the delightful rest of her. When we are finished today I shall show you, but I shall not allow you, Madonna, to see the painting until it is complete.”

“Of course, maestro,” Rosamund replied. She had heard all this before. She took her place on a small platform that had been erected on the terrace and placed her right hand upon a faux column, turning slightly. “Is my position correct, maestro?” she asked him sweetly. “I am never certain that I remember.”

“You are perfecto, Madonna,” he assured her, and he began to work.

For some minutes he painted in silence while the earl and Rosamund exchanged passionate glances. Paola Loredano was more than aware of it, and he found himself jealous, though he had no right to be. He wanted this exquisite Englishwoman more than he had wanted any woman in a long time. He was also painting the voluptuous Baroness Von Kreutzenkampe now, and he was bedding her as well. She was proving a lusty tumble, but he still wanted Rosamund Bolton. He had discovered at an early age that he was a man of vast appetites.

After some time had passed, Rosamund protested. “The sunlight is beginning to burn my skin, maestro.” Without another word, she stepped from the platform. “Come tomorrow,” she said, “but you must come earlier. My flesh is delicate.” Then she left him, returning to the apartment from which she had come.

“She is magnifico!” the artist said, forgetting the earl was in his company.

“If you touch her with disrespect,” Patrick said, “I shall be forced to kill you, Venetian. You do understand that, do you not?”

“You have much passion in your soul for a Northman, for a man of your years, my lord,” the artist said.

“I also have a skilled sword arm, especially for a man of my years,” the earl answered him. “Your talent is great, Paolo Loredano. Do not waste it, or your life, over a woman. Any woman. But most especially my woman. You come from honorable folk. If you give me your word, I shall accept it.”

The artist shook his head regretfully. “I cannot,” he said with a sigh. “Alas, my lord, my cock more often than not overrules my head.”

Patrick chuckled. “I was the same in my youth,” he admitted. “But I love this woman as I have never loved another. Insult her, and you insult me.”

“I understand, my lord, and I promise to try to behave, but I cannot guarantee it. Besides, the ladies have a tendency, indeed a weakness, where I am concerned. It is often not my fault. They seduce me,” the artist said with an infectious grin.

“But Rosamund will not seduce you,” the earl replied. “That much I can guarantee you. And if you make an attempt on her honor, she will probably retaliate in a manner not to your liking.” The earl rose from his seat. “Now, let me see what you have done so far,” he said, walking over to where the easel was set up. He looked, his eyes widening. “You are amazing, maestro,” he complimented the artist. “Your skin tones are incredible! I can almost feel the softness of her beneath my fingertips.”

“What is it that you possess, my lord, that has drawn this woman to you?” the artist asked the earl frankly. He understood that but for Rosamund he and Patrick Leslie might be friends.

“I am as surprised by my good fortune as you are, maestro,” the earl answered honestly. “All I can tell you is that our eyes met, and we both knew.”

“Knew what?” Paolo Loredano was puzzled.

“Knew that we were meant to be together,” came the intriguing reply.

“Yet you do not marry,” the Venetian remarked.

“That is not meant to be. Our love, yes. But naught else. We have both understood that from the beginning,” the earl explained.

The artist nodded slowly, finally understanding. “Tragico,” he said. “To be loved by a woman like that, knowing you must one day be parted. How do you both bear it, my lord? I know that I could not.”

“We are grateful for the time we are given, maestro. Surely you understand that nothing in our lives is permanent. Everything is in a continuous flux around us,” Patrick said quietly.

“But to have no hope!” the artist cried dramatically.

The Earl of Glenkirk laughed. “But we do have hope, maestro. We hope that each day of bliss we share together will lead to another. All things eventually come to an end. Most people refuse to accept that truth. Rosamund and I do. We may be together for years. We may not. When the time comes that we must be separated, we will part reluctantly, sadly, but we will be happy for what we have had together and for the memories we will both always carry with us no matter where our paths in life take us.”

The artist sighed gustily. “You are a braver and nobler man than I, my lord. I could not accept the knowledge so sanguinely as you have. But that said, be warned I shall continue my attempts to seduce the bella Rosamund. Women do not resist Loredano for long.” And he grinned his engaging grin at the Scotsman.

“You will undoubtedly come to a bad end, maestro, killed by an outraged father or husband,” the earl chuckled. “I bid you good day, then.” And he ushered the artist from the terrace, through the dayroom, down the stairs, and out into the courtyard. “When will you begin my portrait?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” the artist answered him. “I shall paint the beautiful lady early, and you afterwards.” Then Paolo Loredano mounted the horse being held for him by a groom and rode off.

The earl turned to go back into the villa only to be met by Rosamund on her way out. “Where are you going?” he asked her, for a moment suspicious and jealous.

“We are going to see the bishop,” she replied. “I want Annie and Dermid wed quickly.” She turned to the groom. “Fetch our horses, Giovanni,” she told the man.

He felt foolish, but he kept his feelings to himself. “Aye, it is best we go together,” he agreed. She was so beautiful. Today she wore a wonderful pale green silk gown, embroidered with darker green and gold threads. Her beautiful hair was covered by a dainty lace veil that had been dyed to match her gown. Had there ever been a lovelier woman than Rosamund Bolton?

The animals were brought, and they mounted them, riding through the embassy gates and down the hill to the main square of Arcobaleno, then to the cathedral. The bells in the old church began to toll the noon hour, and after tethering their horses they entered the stone edifice where the bishop would be celebrating the noon mass known as sext. They joined the other congregants, kneeling on the velvet cushions provided for the gentry as they prayed. A choir of boys sang sweetly, their young voices piercing the quiet atmosphere of the cathedral heights. The air was fragrant with frankincense and myrrh as the priest assisting the bishop wafted the censer about. Tall pure white beeswax candles in ornate gold candlesticks decorated the altars, the delicate flames flickering in the afternoon light that streamed in through the stained-glass windows making multicolored patterns on the gray stone floors. Looking up at the windows about the cathedral Rosamund remembered the first time she had seen stained glass and her silent vow to one day have such glass at Friarsgate.

When the mass was over they approached the bishop, requesting a moment of his time. The elderly man was the same cleric who had performed Janet’s betrothal ceremony to the duke’s son years ago. He was quite frail now, and he looked at Patrick and said, “I should admonish you and the lady for your behavior, my lord, but I shall not. What is it I may do for you?”

“We would like you to waive the banns of marriage for our two servants, my lord bishop. It is best they marry soon,” the earl said.

“Is there a child involved?” the bishop asked.

“Not that we are aware of yet, my lord bishop, but it is best they are married quickly. The air of San Lorenzo seems to be conducive to romance,” Patrick responded.

The bishop chuckled. “I will waive the banns for them. Bring them to me tomorrow before sext, and I will marry them myself. Would that I might do the same for you and your lady, my lord.”

“Would that you could,” the earl replied.

The bishop turned and peered at Rosamund. “Have you run away from your husband, my child?” he inquired of her.

“I am widowed, my lord bishop,” she answered him quietly.

“Then there are other reasons that cannot be overcome,” the old man said, nodding. “Kneel before me, my children.” They knelt, and the elderly bishop blessed them, making the sign of the cross over them.

Rosamund began to weep softly, and Patrick felt tears pricking his own eyes.

The bishop smiled softly as he stood over them, then bid them rise. Thanking him, they left the cathedral, riding silently up the hill back to the ambassador’s villa.

“I will tell Annie,” Rosamund said as they mounted the stairs back to their apartment. “There are preparations to be made. Annie should have a fine gown for her wedding day. Pietro,” she called, and the majordomo was there.

“Madame?” he said.

“Send for Celestina. Annie is to wed Dermid tomorrow. The bishop is performing the ceremony in the cathedral. We need a gown for the bride,” Rosamund told him, and she smiled.

“At once, madame!” Pietro replied, and he hurried off to find a servant to send to his daughter’s shop.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?” Rosamund called, entering their apartments.

“Here, my lady,” the girl said, coming into the dayroom.

“Tomorrow is your wedding day, Annie of Friarsgate! The bishop has waived the banns and will marry you to Dermid himself!”

“In the cathedral?” Annie was wide-eyed.

“In the cathedral,” Rosamund replied, smiling. “I’ve sent for Celestina, for you must have a pretty dress.”

“Oh, my lady!” Annie burst into fulsome tears. “You are too good to me, and I was so naughty.” She lifted her apron to wipe at her eyes.

“I hardly have set you an example to follow, Annie, but follow it you did, and you should not have. Still, I know you and Dermid love each other or you should not have strayed from the path of virtue. Dry your eyes, lass. We have a few things to do before this is finished.”

“Oh, my lady!” Annie’s eyes were suddenly round with worry. “What if Dermid and I stop loving each other once we wed?”

“That is not likely to happen,” Rosamund reassured her servant. “Women must wed, Annie, if they do not enter the church. Dermid is a good man. He was warned by his master to treat you with respect. But his heart became involved, I fear, and you are a very pretty girl. He will not stop loving you, lass. And you must be a good wife to him. But you will be, I know.”

“You know all about love, my lady, don’t you?” Annie said.

“Aye,” Rosamund replied with a smile. “I do know all about love.”

Celestina arrived in a flurry of excitement, her daughter Maria behind her, weighed down by several gowns. “A wedding!” she exclaimed, smiling. “Maria! Put the gowns on the chair!” She glared at Rosamund. “I could wish it were for you, signora, and not your serving girl. She is with bambino?”

“God’s foot, I hope not!” Rosamund exclaimed, making an attempt to save Annie’s reputation.

“ ’Tis a miracle, then,” Celestina said dryly. “Arcobaleno is a small place. Little can be kept secret. The lusty wench has been seen with her lover strolling in the square at night. They kiss and they kiss. We both know what much kissing can lead to, eh, signora?” And she laughed her hearty laugh, her several chins waggling up and down as she did. Then she became serious. “Come, girl, let us see what you will have.”

“Oh, my lady, you choose,” Annie said, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.

“Let us see what Celestina has brought you,” Rosamund replied. She looked at the three gowns spread upon the table and chairs in the dayroom. “The pink is too deep and bold a color,” she said. “What is it the Spanish say? It takes a brave woman to wear yellow. I think we are not that brave, and besides this lovely blue suits your coloring best, Annie. Do you like it?”

“I ain’t never had anything this fine, my lady,” Annie said softly. She stared at the gown of pale blue brocade. The garment had soft linen pleating about its low square neckline, a tightly fitted bodice, low tight sleeves with an embroidered cuff, and a matching embroidered hanging girdle.

“Let’s try it on, then,” Rosamund said.

Celestina and Maria helped the young servingwoman from her garments and into the blue gown. To their surprise, the fit was a perfect one. Annie fingered the silky skirt, a dreamy smile upon her face.

“It needs nothing,” Celestina remarked, sounding not just a little pleased. “Her hair should be unbound despite her naughty behavior, for propriety’s sake if nothing else. But a wreath of flowers in her hair would not be wrong, signora.” She nodded. “She is a pretty bride, eh? And with the long sleeves she can wear the gown back home in your icy England.”

“Do you like it, Annie? Will it suit?” Rosamund gently pressed her servant.

“Like it? Oh, my lady! In all my born days I did not think to have such a wonderful gown! I only hope I do not wake from this dream.” She was smiling.

“Get out of the gown, girl!” Celestina said impatiently. “You will ruin it before your wedding. I can see you are preparing to weep. Tearstains are difficult to remove!” She and Maria hurried to remove the garment from Annie’s slender frame.

“You may send the bill to the earl,” Rosamund said. “ ’Tis his man Annie is marrying tomorrow.”

Celestina chortled. “Aye, he should pay for it since his servant could not behave himself. And I hope he’ll see the bride and groom have a bit of wine drunk to their long life and many bambini, signora.”

Rosamund nodded. “Grazia, Signora Celestina,” she said. “We are in your debt again for your kindness.”

“Hang the gown in a cupboard, girl,” Celestina instructed Annie. “You don’t want to have wrinkles come the morrow.” She nodded at Rosamund. “Ciao, signora. Your command of the Italian tongue grows quite good. San Lorenzo seems to agree with you, eh?” Then, signaling to Maria, who had packed up the other two gowns, she departed with a wave of her plump hand.

“You did not ask the price of the gown, my lady,” Annie said softly.

“It is a simple garment, Annie, and Celestina will be fair,” Rosamund responded. “To haggle the cost would have been insulting. Besides, I know his lordship would want you to look your best for Dermid. Now, do not tell him about your gown, for it would be bad fortune. And you will sleep with me tonight, Annie. Abstinence and anticipation will make for a far more exciting wedding night,” Rosamund told her servant.

Annie nodded. “Yes, my lady,” she replied meekly.

“Go and find Pietro for me now,” Rosamund instructed the girl, who hurried off to do her mistress’ bidding.

The old majordomo came, and bowing, asked, “How may I serve you, my lady?”

“Neither of the servants’ chambers can contain a bed suitable for a husband and his wife, Pietro. Is there perhaps a small room that Annie and Dermid might have for themselves?” She smiled. “I indulge them, I know, but they are so in love.”

“By chance,” Pietro responded, his eyes twinkling, “there is a single bedchamber next to your apartment, my lady. It is unoccupied. The ambassador rarely has a houseful of guests, and we are expecting no one that I am aware of at the moment. The bed is quite commodious, and suitable to a newly wed couple. But your servants will also be easily available to you. Will that suit?”

“It will more than suit, Pietro, and I am grateful for your courtesy towards Annie and Dermid,” Rosamund answered him.

“I shall have the housekeeper air out the chamber and prepare it for the bride and groom. After that, however, they must keep it clean and neat themselves,” Pietro said.

“Annie is a good housekeeper,” Rosamund promised.

The majordomo bowed and departed the apartment.

“What is this?” Patrick demanded as he reentered the dayroom. “Annie says she is to sleep with you tonight.”

“I think it best,” Rosamund said. “We must at least preserve the appearance of propriety, my lord. And Pietro is opening up the bedchamber next to our apartment so Annie and Dermid may have their privacy when they are not needed.”

“And where am I to rest my head this night?” the earl demanded.

“Why, in your own chamber, my lord,” Rosamund replied with a mischievous smile. “I have told Annie that anticipation but stimulates desire. We shall see just how much, my lord, eh?” And she laughed softly.

His green eyes narrowed. “Madame, you try my patience with your indulgence of our servants. They are a lusty, naughty pair who do not deserve your kindness. But I, who adore you, do deserve it. Am I to be denied my rights because of our servants?”

“When,” Rosamund teased him, “did the time of day ever matter to you, Patrick Leslie? You are a far lustier devil than your servingman, but perhaps I am beginning to tire you out.” Her amber eyes were bright with anticipation.

“I think, madame,” he said slowly, “that your behavior is in need of some correction.” He made a move towards her.

Rosamund edged away from him, putting the table between them. “Is it?” she taunted. “And are you man enough to deliver me that correction, my lord?”

His eyes narrowed again at her challenge. “I am, madame. I think that your round little bottom must be spanked until you admit your fault to me.” He leapt forward, turning the table aside as he did so.

With a little shriek of surprise Rosamund fled him, now putting a chair between them. “You are slow, my lord.”

“And you, madame, too confident.” He strode towards her, backing her and the chair into a corner of the room. And when he had put her there he smiled wickedly and said, “Now what, madame? You have no route of escape from your punishment now.”

Wide-eyed, she could but watch as he yanked the chair away. She attempted to dart beneath his arm and escape, but he caught her, and sitting down on that same chair, he pulled her down over his knees. “Now, madame,” he said in menacing tones as he deliberately and carefully lifted her skirts up to bare her round little bottom, “you will be spanked.” His hand came down on her buttocks with a satisfying smack.

“Ohhh!” Rosamund cried. A second blow descended, and she asked him, “Is that the best you can do, my lord?” Her ridicule, she quickly discovered, was a mistake, and her flesh was soon tingling and distinctly warm with his punishment.

“Say you are sorry for mocking me!” he growled.

“What will you give me if I do?” she asked from her rather ignominious position across his broad lap.

He laughed, and a hand slipped beneath her to forage between her nether lips. She was very wet, and he smiled. “Your punishment, Rosamund, has been every bit as effective for me as it has been for you.” His hand descended thrice more on her hapless bottom. “Are you sorry yet?” he inquired softly.

“Yes,” she exclaimed. She was hungry to have him within her and amazed that the spanking he had given her had resulted in such white-hot lust.

He set her on his feet, fumbling with his clothing, and seeing his lover’s lance free at last, Rosamund sat upon it, her back to him. He unlaced her bodice, then pushed aside the swath of her auburn hair from her neck. His hands cupped her breasts, and he pinched the nipples even as he fondled the twin globes of her bosom. His lips brushed her nape, and then his teeth sank into her graceful neck, and he groaned as she rode him with an expertise that always astounded him. “Witch,” he whispered in her ear, his tongue licking at the curl of perfumed flesh.

“Devil!” she hissed back, her body arching as she strove to force him deeper into the heat of her eager body. She ground her buttocks, still hot with her punishment, into his body. He filled her full, and her head began to spin while she once again wondered why it was this man who could love her so completely, and none before him. She felt no disloyalty to Owein. They had loved each other and been loyal to each other; but no man until Patrick had ever given her the supreme pleasure she was now experiencing. “Oh, sweet Mother Mary!” she gasped. “Oh, Patrick! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” She shuddered with the pleasure coursing like boiling honey through her veins. “Ahhh! Ahhh!” She shuddered again, feeling his passionate tribute flooding her body. “Ahhh, Patrick!” And she collapsed against him.

“Rosamund! Rosamund!” he groaned in her ear, his breath hot and moist. “There has never been a woman like you, I’ll vow! If I died in the next minute I should be content, my darling.” He pressed a kiss against her nape, his warm lips lingering as he breathed in the familiar scent of her. “I love you. I shall always love you!”

Rosamund sighed, but she was not yet ready to open her eyes. She relaxed against his broad chest, his manhood still within her. “I shall never love another as I love you, Patrick,” she told him.

His hand tenderly fondled her breast for a few moments, and then he said, “We cannot be found like this, my darling. Can you arise from me now?”

Rosamund stood on shaky legs and breathed in several deep breaths. She drew her skirts down, brushing away the wrinkles. “You must rearrange yourself, my lord, if we are not to shock our two lusty servants.” She smiled when she said it, noting that his manhood had not lessened greatly in size. “You are very randy today.”

“And did you enjoy being spanked, sweetheart?” The green eyes twinkled.

“I did,” she admitted. “It seemed to add a fillip of excitement to our passion.” Then she blushed with the admission.

He chuckled. “I could not resist,” he said softly. “Your taunts were most exciting, my darling.”

“I should not like you to spank me often,” she told him. “Your hand is hard, I fear. My poor bottom is still tingling.”

“Lovers sometimes play games, Rosamund. But it is not necessary to play them all the time,” he explained.

“Mayhap one day you will spank me again,” she said with a sly smile.

“One day when the occasion calls for it,” he agreed.

“I promise to be very good for now, my lord,” she said sweetly.

“I am glad for it,” he replied, grinning, “although I will admit you have the most fetchingly rounded little bottom, my darling.”

“It compares well with other bottoms you have spanked?” she asked innocently.

“Rosamund!” And then he laughed. “Extremely well,” he admitted.

“I wish we never had to go home,” she suddenly burst out.

Patrick took her into his arms. “But we do. Not for a while, but eventually, my darling. I know you want to be at Friarsgate again, and I promise I will take you there myself and remain with you for as long as I can. Now, be happy, my love, for we are together now, and no matter what happens we shall always love each other, Rosamund. Always!”