He chuckled. "You are no doubt under the misconception that I have had too much to drink. Let me assure you I have not. It was only that Henry was in a talkative mood and insisted I drink with him."
"And of course you could not refuse the king," she said sarcastically, sighing. "But surely he had an available bed. You should have stayed there, my lord, instead of riding back here. You could have broken your neck—not unheard of with those who imbibe too much."
She began to pull him up the stairs, but he yanked her back. "Do not scold, dearling. I do not feel drunk, therefore I am not. And I could not stay there because you are here."
She laughed. "Would that you could ride your horse up these stairs."
"Think I cannot climb the stairs?" he growled, and with that he grabbed her hand and ran up the stairs, dragging her behind him until they reached the top. Then he grinned at her.
"That was foolish, my lord," Leonie said, panting.
"Do not sulk, dearling."
"Oh!"
Exasperated, she jerked her hand away, but Rolfe threw his arm around her shoulder again, taking a few unsteady steps, leaning heavily on her. He chuckled when she mumbled a choice curse.
"Ah, Leonie, I do believe I love you."
Her heart jumped, but she quickly stayed the impulse to make a similar declaration. He was drunk. She could not afford to believe drunken nonsense.
"Do you, my lord?"
"I must," he said simply. "Why else would I put up with your sulkiness?"
"I have told you before, I do not sulk."
"And your disobedience," he continued as if she had not spoken. "And your willfulness."
"I did not realize I had so many faults," she said stiffly.
"You do, but I love you anyway." He swung her into his arms, squeezing the breath out of her. "Can you love me, dearling?"
"Of course—my lord."
"Ah, Leonie, would that you spoke the truth, but I know you are lying."
He was whispering into her ear, making her nerves tingle. It was always a churning experience, being so attracted to this man. She wished she were drunk. She wished she could let go of the tight rein on her emotions and savor her time with him. She wished . . .
She squirmed out of his tight embrace so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. "It is not impossible to love you. In fact, it is very easy."
Rolfe caught his breath. She was pressing her soft body against him, and he said huskily, "You humor me, dearling, but at least that is a start."
His mouth swooped down on hers, taking her lips in an exquisitely passionate kiss. That first violent shock stunned her, then melted into sweet sensations. She clung to his body, feeling every hard muscle, returning his kiss with her own passion. She was frightened by her desire for him.
Suddenly, to her amazement, Rolfe broke off the kiss and threw back his head, emitting a wild roar, like a war cry. It sent shivers through her.
When he looked down at her, raw passion smoldered in those dark eyes.
Very deliberately and slowly, he slid his hands down her hips, holding them firmly.
A core of heat burst in her loins, and suddenly her muscles had turned to water. Her legs were unable to support her. It must have showed in her eyes, for Rolfe smiled triumphantly, then scooped her up in his arms.
Leonie gasped. "We might get there safer, my lord, if you put me down."
He was too inebriated for this. "No," he said flatly.
She pointed at the open door a few steps away. "Over there."
He walked unsteadily into the small room. Seeing the nervous Mildred, he ordered her out. Leonie smiled at the look on poor Mildred's face as she ran out of the room, for she was sure the maid was only too glad to leave.
"Where is the other one?" he asked as he moved toward the bed.
"Wilda is sleeping elsewhere tonight."
He chuckled. "Wise girl."
"And what have you done with Damian?"
"Left him with his father, Lord Sutton. I desired privacy for us."
They fell heavily onto the bed, both laughing. He did not have to ask her to help him disrobe. In swift order she did it, the two of them laughing and teasing. Then her bedrobe was removed, and Rolfe's eyes kindled with desire. When he placed his hands on her breasts, she was jolted back into total awareness of her raging needs. They lay down on the bed together, clutching each other tightly.
His strength was a palpable thing, the corded muscles running along his neck, mounded across his chest. He was raw power held in check, and she accepted his gentleness as a gift. She touched those muscles, felt them move under her fingertips, felt the silkiness of the dark curling hair all over him, another aspect of his overwhelming masculinity.
He was all she could ever want—and she wanted him desperately, her eyes telling him so. He watched her fascination with him. He played with her lips then, nibbling, teasing her, knowing she wanted to be crushed.
When he finally plundered, his tongue ravaging her mouth, a sound of pure pleasure was wrenched from her.
His caresses were sheer torture as he moved from her breasts to the core of her, his fingers opening her. She moved as close to him as she could, wanting more, and suddenly waves of heat converged in her loins to shatter the little control she had left. She tore her mouth away from his to cry out his name as the exquisite spasms washed through her. He mounted her then, before she had time to recover, his arms slipping under her to gather her to him more closely. The throbbing in her loins continued as he plummeted to her depths, and then the throbbing burst into flames again as the gushing warmth of his release filled her.
Leonie could feel the waves of pleasure running through him for a long, exquisite moment, and then Rolfe rolled over, taking her with him, his arms still wrapped around her. She lay across his chest, floating.
After a time she realized he was sleeping soundly. She looked up at him with a tender smile and then, carefully, tried to move off him. But Rolfe's arms tightened, wanting her close even in sleep. So there she settled, her head on his arm, her belly pressed to his side, one leg covering him. She slept a blissful sleep.
Chapter 32
"DO you know that wagers were placed last night after Sir Rolfe arrived? Half the guests here swear he killed you. The other half were divided between your lover being found and killed, and you getting a beating. What did happen, my lady?"
Leonie was speechless, hot color suffusing her cheeks. And for Wilda to have spoken as calmly as you please while she combed Leonie's hair made it that much worse. She was not prepared for something like this so early in the morning.
"How do you know there were wagers, Wilda?" she demanded.
"It is all they are talking about below, my lady." The maid shrugged, then grinned. "Everyone heard him calling for you, my lady. So they wonder what happened after he found you."
"I cannot believe that people think he killed someone just because he made too much noise."
"It was because of that last terrible roar, though not everyone heard that, my lord being up here by then. Those who heard that are the ones who swear murder was done."
"Enough!" Leonie snapped. "He drank too much, that's all. And he caused no trouble, Wilda, for me or anyone."
Wilda glanced at her mistress hopefully. It was her fervent wish that things would work out between Leonie and her husband, for if they did not, she could see only years of unhappiness ahead for her lady. She truly loved Leonie.
"Mildred said he carried you in here," she ventured.
"Do not be impertinent, Wilda! Mildred says too much."
"Was he as masterful as—?"
"Wilda, stop it!" Leonie had a difficult time keeping from laughing.
The maid was incorrigible, but Leonie knew Wilda wanted only to be reassured about her marriage.
She stood up to allow Wilda to finish dressing her, and just then the door opened and Rolfe came in, surprising the women. Under his arm was tucked a long narrow box, and in his hand was another,
smaller box.
He was just as surprised as they were, for Leonie was clad only in her sleeveless, knee-length shift. He stopped short and, with a dark look, turned abruptly and called out, "Richard! Close your eyes!"
The knight was directly behind Rolfe, laboring under a large chest.
"Cover yourself," Rolfe said to Leonie, "until my friend here can deposit his burden."
Red-faced, Leonie quickly complied, incensed by Rolfe's unchivalrous behavior. How dared he barge in unannounced and then scowl at her for not being properly clothed?
She remained silent while donning her robe, but when she swung back around, there was a silver gleam in her eyes that spoke volumes.
She found Rolfe smiling sheepishly, and Sir Richard grinning as he set the large chest down, bowed formally, then turned and left.
Rolfe wagged a finger comically. "Come and see what I have bought for you."
Leonie came forward hesitantly, wary as Rolfe opened the chest.
Amazed, she knelt down and fingered the most exquisite gray silk. It was shot through with so much metallic thread, it gleamed like liquid silver.
She had never seen anything like it.
But that was only the first of many surprises. There were ten lengths of cloth folded in the chest. There were silks in rose samite, violet sendal, and a heavy green and blue damask. Even more beautiful were three lengths of velvet in vibrant colors. Velvet very rarely appeared as far north as England, and it was so costly as to be seen only on kings and very wealthy lords. She had never thought to possess any, and she was overwhelmed.
"Where—where did you find these?" she asked in awe.
"Henry opened his stores to me," Rolfe said casually, though he was beaming at her pleasure.
"Hegavethese to you?"
"Gave?" Rolfe grunted. "What an idea! Henry does not give gifts unless he wants something in return. No, I told him what I was looking for, and he suggested I would find a better selection if I bought from his stores. He gets cargoes from the Far East that London merchants can only dream about."
"But—but these are worth a fortune." Leonie shook her head slowly, thoroughly confused. "You bought these materials for me?"
"Of course."
"Why?"
He grinned. "May I not receive a simple thank you? Must I have a reason for everything I do?"
She became alarmed then. Was she being rewarded for her behavior of the night before?
"If this has anything to do with last night . . ."
Leonie blushed, unable to finish in Wilda's presence. With a nod, she bid the maid leave them. When they were alone, Rolfe pressed her. "Did you do something last night to warrant—"
"Nothing to warrant gifts." She cut him off indignantly. "Why would you think so?"
"I did not think so. In fact, I meant to ask you about last night." He seemed a good deal less sure of himself. "I cannot seem to recall . . . I have no memory of leaving Westminster Hall, except a vague one of finding you at the bottom of the stairs here."
When she made no reply, he said, "Shall I assume I made an ass of myself?"
Leonie grinned. "If you are looked at strangely today, it is because you woke half the castle last night."
"And you, Leonie?" he said softly. "I would not like to think I offended you in any way."
Taken aback, she said, "You said much, but you did not offend me."
Then she ventured, "Do you have no memory atall?"
"Pieces, dearling," he replied, looking at her thoughtfully. "But I am not sure if what Idoremember was a dream or . . . did I carry you in here?"
Slowly, Leonie nodded, and then Rolfe's whole manner changed. He chuckled, and his eyes gleamed with masculine pride.
'That will teach me to drink so much." He grinned. "I waited for an eternity for you to let me make love to you again, and when you finally did, I could remember only half of it."
Leonie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks again. She was beginning to think he said those things just to make her blush, for it happened much too often. Would she ever get used to his bluntness?
"The gifts, my lord," Leonie reminded him.
"So it is 'my lord' again?"
Leonie lowered her gaze.
Rolfe sighed. "These are for you as well." He handed her the two boxes. As the question leaped into her eyes again, he warned defensively, "Do not make the mistake of asking why I give these to you. It is a man's right to spend his money where he will."
"From Henry's stores too?"
The boxes themselves were beautiful. The long one was carved redwood, the smaller one silver, decorated with smooth enamels. She was almost afraid to see what they contained.
"I ordered those last week from the goldsmith here in London. I hope you will be pleased."
He did not wait to see if she would be, but turned to leave.
"I do thank you, my—"
Leonie caught herself before adding 'lord,' but not soon enough. Rolfe turned around at the door, his expression inscrutable.
"When you can finally bring yourself to use my name freely, then I think you will love me. I will wait for that day."
After he was gone she stared at the closed door, her confusion complete. Why did he so badly want her love? He had Amelia's. Was that not enough? Oh, such thoughts would only make her angry again, so she shook them off.
Such generosity! Inside the long box were two exquisite girdles. One was five feet of interlocking gold disks, each with a tiny flower engraved on its shiny round surface. The other was made of gold chains that hung in several lengths, connecting every three inches with a large ruby. There was a larger ruby to clasp the belt together. When she wore the girdle, the chains would flow all the way to her feet.
Inside the silver box were hundreds of precious stones, already in intricate gold settings. They could easily be sewn onto the clothes Leonie would make from the magnificent materials. She was holding a fortune in her hands.
She was stunned, awestruck, and thrilled. But even so, she found herself wondering if he had been equally generous with Amelia.
Chapter 33
WEARING her best bliaut of soft blue silk over a darker blue chemise, Leonie's confidence was nonetheless very low when Rolfe escorted her into the great hall at Westminster. Only the new girdle fit in with all the glitter of court dress.
She was taken into the presence of Princess Alice and her ladies and left there, as it was too early for her presentation to the king. Leonie did not know Princess Alice, Henry's reputed mistress, but she had met Queen Eleanor on one of her childhood visits to Court. It was said that Eleanor had instigated the rebellion of Henry's sons. Whether or not that was so, he had confined her to Winchester Castle. The fact that the queen was more or less imprisoned while Henry's mistress was by his side reminded Leonie too much of her situation with Rolfe and Amelia, and her spirits sank.
She was disappointed not to see the queen. A beautiful woman, with dark brown eyes and ivory skin, it was no wonder she had been wife to two kings. Her marriage to King Louis of France had been dissolved on grounds of their being related. But they were only fourth cousins, and the dissolution had been effected so that she could marry Henry.
Henry succeeded Stephen to the throne of England two years after marrying Eleanor. He was already duke of Normandy and count of Anjou, and with their marriage, Aquitaine was added to his possessions, making him ruler of all western France. Henry was the most powerful man in Europe.
Leonie remembered Eleanor as a gay, frivolous woman, a bit high-tempered, and truly vain. But Leonie's mother had sworn that Eleanor had mellowed since her youth. Eleanor was twelve years older than Henry, and possibly that was why he had put her aside for younger women.
King Louis' daughter, Alice, was no older than Leonie. She had been betrothed to Henry's son Richard, but that hadn't stopped Henry from making her his mistress four years ago, a fact he did not even try to hide after his queen was banished from court.
What was surprising wa
s that Alice was not beautiful, not even terribly pretty. Her ladies-in-waiting were quick to point out that it was her wit Henry took pleasure in. Leonie was told, confidentially, how much Henry admired Alice's grace in walking and dancing. It seemed these beautiful ladies were making excuses for why their king did not prefer them, but the only reason needed was that Henry doubtless loved Alice, as she loved him.
Leonie might have warmed to the princess except that she saw Alice only as the other woman, and Henry as the unfaithful husband. When she looked at Alice, it was Amelia she was reminded of. So she was not in the best of moods when Rolfe came to escort her into the king's presence.
Henry had changed little in the six years since Leonie had seen him.
He was still an intimidating man. His carelessness in dress had not changed either. He obviously found no time for tailors, for though his clothes were expensive, they did not fit him well.
"I did your husband a disservice in telling him that you were an uncomely child. I even tried to talk him out of having you. I can see I would never have been forgiven if I had succeeded."
Those were Henry's first words to her as he led her away from Rolfe.
Leonie was not impressed.
"If that is a compliment, Your Majesty, then I thank you," she said tersely.
His gray eyes warmed. "Do you dislike me, my dear, or are you really as inflexible as Rolfe says?"
Leonie groaned inwardly. This was the king and she dared not offend him.
"I know not what he has told you," she said, forcing a smile.
"Oh, many things, many indeed—though I think he exaggerates. It cannot be true that you tried to kill him on your wedding night."
Leonie blanched. Rolfe had never discussed the incident with her, yet he could tell Henry about it!
"That—that was an accident, Your Majesty, caused by my nervousness and fear."
"I thought as much." Henry smiled disarmingly. "And I doubt you are as dissatisfied with this marriage I arranged for you as your husband seems to think. You might have objected at the start, but once you saw him, you were relieved, weren't you?" He did not wait for an answer.