RulingPassion (13 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The first of the guests arrived just after midday. Rosalind
thought activity had been frantic for the past couple of weeks, but it rose to
a level several times beyond what had gone before once the visitors began to
flood in. Their own staff was swelled many times by the addition of servants
and aides accompanying the lords, barons and knights, which meant a surge in
requests, demands, accidents and summonses. Special requests that hadn’t been
mentioned before became urgent needs. Rosalind and the entire staff were kept
running in the effort to satisfy all.

She was also called frequently to the gates to greet guests
as they arrived, since she was acting as hostess. It was an awkward business
when she had no official standing in the household. To those who didn’t already
know her, Lord Jeoffrey introduced her as Lady Rosalind Hamilton, whom he’d
rescued from Sir William de Railles’ dungeon and to whom he’d offered the
shelter and protection of his household until such time as her future was
settled.

Though most had known her family, or at least known of them,
nearly all the guests were surprised by her survival. Some, noting the current
circumstances, greeted her with cool civility. In Lord Jeoffrey’s presence none
dared snub her entirely. More, however, showed her an effusive warmth.

One or two of her father’s old friends were both surprised
and delighted to see her. Sir John of Carbreath expressed a general belief that
she’d been killed along with the rest of her family in Sir William’s siege.
Rosalind was surprised and moved to see tears in the old man’s eyes as he
kissed her cheeks and told her how very pleased he was to know she’d survived.
He turned to Lord Jeoffrey to thank him for his efforts in ensuring her
survival.

The Earl of Dunwood, was equally pleased to see her, bowing
over her hand as she curtsied to him, but Lady Dunwood was much more reserved
in her enthusiasm. The countess nodded courteously but said only the minimum
courtesy demanded. The ladies who accompanied their lords and fathers were
generally more skeptical and cautious in their greetings than the men.

Looking on Lord Jeoffrey, she could well understand why they
might be dubious. Her lord wore a plain shirt, tunic, leggings, and boots, saving
the grander clothes for later, but he carried himself with an air of nobility
that eclipsed most of the knights, baronets, and even the two earls he greeted.
He was taller than all but one or two, younger than most, and more handsome
than any of them. Beyond that, though, he had a presence, a stature, a
confident way of holding himself that added depth and weight to his nobility.
The men all smiled and greeted him with affectionate respect. The ladies
simpered or smoldered and eyed him with predatory speculation.

Several of the men—single and wed, but more of the
bachelors—kissed her hand and bowed while taking careful inventory of her
physical assets. To a man, all appeared pleased by what they saw and a few
openly teased or flirted as they greeted her. Rosalind suspected Jeoffrey had
already put out word he sought a husband for her.

By dinner time, she felt ready to fall into bed and sleep,
no matter who else was or wasn’t there with her. Instead she freshened up
quickly and dressed in one of the new gowns for the evening’s entertainment.
The musicians she had engaged to perform that evening were a local group, but a
well-known bard, hearing of the coming convocation, had also arrived. Before
proceeding to the great hall, she checked with the cook and majordomo to be
sure all was in order. This wasn’t the largest or most important meal to be
served. The next day’s midday meal, when all should be gathered and the
deliberations about to begin, and the dinner following that, hopefully
celebrating a consensus and plan of action, would be more significant, but a
good start this evening would help relieve anxieties and set a positive tone
for the days to come.

She met Jeoffrey on the stairs as she went down to the
kitchens. After a quick peek in either direction to ascertain they were alone,
he drew her into his arms and kissed her until she felt her bones melt. She ran
her hands into his hair and pinned his mouth to hers. His clever tongue and
lips stroked and prodded, rousing an irresistible hunger.

He drew her up a few steps and off to the side, into an
alcove dimly lit by just one high, narrow window. He fumbled the gown aside
enough so he could stroke her breasts as he continued to work his mouth on
hers. She felt his cock rise and she fumbled at the laces of his hose to free
it. He lifted her onto a rough, wood table, pushed her gown and shift up and
out of the way, stripped away her drawers, and parted her legs.

He had to crouch a bit to fit his cock into her, until she
rose so she was standing on a cross-bar support of the table. He held her
steady as he pumped into her. She moaned when desire rose and filled her,
responding to his invasion. The heat sent perspiration down her body. Despite
her awkward pose, she moved in rhythm with him, following his pace as it
increased. They climaxed together, smothering their screams in each other’s
mouths.

He held her as close against him as he could for a while.

“Rosalind, my dear, my only love,” he whispered in her ear.
“Stolen moments with you are not enough. I will never get enough of you and
your sweetness.” He drew a deep breath, sighed and added, “I suppose I must let
you go now. Our guests await.”

“Aye, Jeoffrey. Now, though, I will carry the scent and feel
of your love with me for the remainder of the evening.”

He helped her rearrange her clothes, then disappeared back
up the stairs while she proceeded on down them.

Though the kitchens might appear to be in a state of utter
chaos to a stranger’s eye, Rosalind had learned enough of its workings to
realize preparations were in good order. Cook nodded to her when Rosalind
leaned in to see if anything was needed, indicating all was well.

Rosalind had never played hostess at an affair of this type
before. She had, once or twice, entertained a few of her father’s friends or
relatives when her mother was indisposed. But her mother had been acknowledged
a splendid hostess, and Rosalind had learned from her. She made her way through
the hall, stopping to talk with each person or group, inquiring about their
journey and whether the accommodations were comfortable.

Those who knew her, and a few who didn’t but had heard of
her family’s tragedy, sought more details of how she’d come to be in Lord
Jeoffrey’s home. She offered the short version—that she had happened to be
among a group of prisoners Lord Jeoffrey had rescued from Sir William’s
dungeon, but unlike the others she had no family or home to return to, so he
had generously offered her his protection until her future could be settled. It
was the truth, if not the entire truth, but it served and satisfied those who
inquired.

As the time for the meal to start drew near, Rosalind
escorted various guests to their places at the tables.

She’d had a long discussion with Elspeth concerning where to
place herself. As hostess, she should be at Jeoffrey’s right side, but that
position would also imply more about their relationship than was wise. After
discussing a number of possibilities, they decided to place the Earl of Dunwood
at Jeoffrey’s right, then the countess, Sir James Shelton and Lady Shelton
beyond them, and finally herself on the end of the head table. That put her on
the corner, which was a convenient location for someone who might have to rise
occasionally to see to the guests’ comfort or check with the kitchen.

As Jeoffrey took his seat, Rosalind felt her palms grow
sticky and her breathing get a little faster. She hadn’t anticipated she’d feel
so nervous about this event, but she couldn’t help worrying something might go
disastrously wrong and blight their gathering. The group grew quiet when
Jeoffrey stood to welcome everyone. His speech was short but appeared to
impress his guests, though perhaps more for his bearing and the way he
projected his voice through the room with the authority of a king.

“Welcome, my friends and neighbors. I rejoice to see each
and every one of you here this evening. Though we come together in troubled
times, for this evening let no shadow hang over us. I declare: tonight we
celebrate the good fortune in our fellowship and respect for each other. The
Lord be with us as we break bread and share cups. My good lords and gentle
ladies, I drink to your good health and good fortune.”

He sat down amidst applause and exclamations. The servants
brought in platters loaded with cured fish, capon, blanc-mange, and several
haunches of pork. Bowls of greens drenched in herbed vinegar, boiled tubers and
stewed apples were passed around. Baskets of bread emitted mouth-watering
aromas.

Once they began to eat, Lady James Shelton leaned over
toward her. “Lady Rosalind, your mother was once a good friend to myself and my
husband. We were grieved to hear of your family’s tragedy, then unexpectedly
elated to learn you had survived, though not without enduring some terrible
trials.”

“I was very fortunate, my lady,” Rosalind admitted,
reassured by the woman’s pleasantly sympathetic tone. “My rescue was almost by
accident since those who saved me from the dungeon initially had no idea I was
there.” She glanced toward Jeoffrey, who laughed at something the earl said to
him. As though feeling her regard, he looked over toward her and their eyes met
briefly. The unspoken communication warmed her with its message of pride and
approval.

“Please, call me Jane, if you will, Rosalind. You are
perhaps doubly fortunate to have come under Lord Jeoffrey’s protection,” Jane
said. “He is a good and honorable man.” She gave Rosalind a wry grin. “And a
very handsome one, too.”

“Aye, he is that,” Rosalind admitted.

“And unmarried.” Jane’s look was shrewd but not unkind. “As
are you.” The woman saw Rosalind’s reaction and said quickly, “Nay, pray
forgive me, Rosalind, I meant no suggestion of impropriety. I meant only that
there appears to be some…affection between the two of you, and I wondered if
there might be a betrothal in the offing.” The warm concern in her tone made
Rosalind feel she could like this woman, who appeared to be about ten years
older than herself.

“I fear there is not,” Rosalind said. “There are
circumstances that make it difficult. My position is not what it was. My
family’s lands and chattels are now in Sir William’s possession.”

“Ah, and Lord Jeoffrey’s in need of a bride with good
connections. Has he someone in mind?”

“Aye. Lady Alys.”

“The duke’s daughter? He aspires high.” She looked at
Jeoffrey and then back to Rosalind. “But not well. The girl is rumored to be a
willful, vain, self-centered brat.”

“But she is well dowered,” Rosalind pointed out.

“Especially well dowered, I have heard, since her father
yearns to have her become someone else’s problem. She disrupts the household
with tantrums and pouts when crossed. Jeoffrey would have his hand full with
her.”

Rosalind thought about that and wondered how the girl would
react to the household discipline of the manor should she indeed be wed to
Jeoffrey. “I believe the lady favors his suit, but the duke hesitates over the
match since Jeoffrey is a rather minor lord.”

“I am sure she favors it,” Jane said. “Jeoffrey is the
handsomest man around. ‘Twould suit her vanity well enough to have him.” She
sighed and shook her head. “He’s also one of the strongest and most honorable.
It would be great sport to watch the two of them together.” She laughed. “I
know not who I would wager to win the wars of wills between them.” Jane took a
long sip of spiced wine. “But what about yourself, my dear? Are there any
prospects in view?”

“Lord Jeoffrey has said he would undertake to help make an
arrangement for me. I believe he means to use this gathering to consider
suitable prospects. You know most of these people, Jane, tell me which of the
gentlemen here would make a good match for me,” Rosalind asked.

Jane scanned the room, her gaze lighting occasionally on one
or the other of the men present, before she turned back to Rosalind.

“None of them,” she said.

“Not a one? Surely there must be a few unwed gentlemen
here.”

“Oh, there are,” Jane said, “but none would be suitable for
you.”

She nodded toward an elderly man hunched over the table
opposite them, spooning food into his mouth as fast as he could shovel. Not all
of it remained in his mouth, unfortunately, due to the lack of a dental barrier
preventing its escape.

“Lord Michel de Granfel seeks a wife, “ Jane said, “Though
it surely cannot be for anything more than to have someone bring him warm milk
and tuck him into bed at night.” She tapped her cup with her fingernails and a
mocking smile crooked her mouth “Nay, I take back my previous words. He might
be just the match for you.”

Rosalind stared at her.

“My dear, do you not see? Lord Michel has a nice fortune,
and at most a few more years left in this world to enjoy it. His son will
inherit, but someone as clever as you could easily ensure you are
well-provisioned for widowhood.”

“I do not think—”

Jane shook her head and gestured subtly at another, very
large young man sitting halfway down a side table. “Do you prefer someone
rather younger? There is Sir Arnor. He is a third son, unfortunately, and
rumored to be rather slow and simple, but look at his size! And he is said to
be good with sword and bow. Still, he will have little fortune of his own, and
I doubt even someone with your gifts could manage him into much ambition.”

“But one suspects his size could be a gift of a different
sort to the right lady,” Rosalind commented.

“My dear, what a very shocking thing to say.” Jane turned
and gave her a look of feigned horror before a giggle escaped. The mischievous
sparkle in her eyes had already belied her words “No doubt ‘tis true. Still he
is not for you. You need a man with some means and intelligence enough to keep
you from death by boredom.”