“Unfair! Unfair!” Rosamund cried, struggling within his arms. His shoulders beneath his doublet were very broad, and the chest she now pounded with her small fists was wide and hard. His cheek was no longer smooth, but had just the faintest hint of shadow.
“One little kiss,” he wheedled, grinning at her wickedly, his blue eyes dancing.
She sighed. It was really very exciting, Rosamund considered, to be so pursued by a handsome young prince. “Just one,” she finally said. “Do you give me your word, just one, your highness?”
“You may call me Hal when we are alone,” he murmured.
“You have not given me your promise,Hal,” Rosamund said, attempting to sound stern. He was very handsome, she thought. Even more handsome than Sir Owein.
He saw the dreaminess in her amber eyes. “One sweet, sweet kiss, my lady of Friarsgate,” he whispered in her ear, and then he kissed her lips, their mouths fusing together eagerly.
Rosamund’s heart raced. She could feel the sudden heat from both of their bodies. Her mouth softened beneath his. She sighed, relaxing against him, feeling safe within the cradle of his strong arms. “Oh, how lovely,” she told him softly as the kiss ended.
“Again?”he tempted her in a low, seductive voice.
“Aye,” she agreed with another sigh of pleasure as his mouth touched hers once more. This time his demands on her were greater. She felt him sitting down on the stone bench that had been nearby. More comfortable in his embrace, Rosamund put an arm about his shoulders, her fingers caressing the nape of his thick neck. The kiss deepened. His finger brushed against her bodice, and receiving no rebuke he boldly fondled her breast.“Oh!”Rosamund gasped, very surprised.
“It’s all right, darling,” the prince assured her. “Lovers are wont to touch.” He deliberately pinched her nipple as his hand moved swiftly into her bodice and beneath her chemise.
It was as if he had doused her with a bucket of cold water. Rosamund’s eyes flew open.“We are not lovers!”she cried. “And how would you know such a thing, Hal?” She struggled to gain a more defensive position as she yanked his hand from beneath her gown.
“Do you think I am a virgin like yourself, my adorable lady of Friarsgate?” the prince asked her. “Lord, I mounted my first woman on my eleventh birthday. She was a gift from Brandon and Neville.” He grinned at her. “I enjoy a good fucking with a contented partner.”
“How did you know what to do?” Rosamund asked him, fascinated in spite of herself. If it hadn’t been for her ankle she would have gotten up from his lap and left him, she assured herself.
“My friends found me a clean and disease-free whore, no easy task either, who was both skilled and sympathetic. She said she was honored to be my first lover, and gaily led me down Eros’ path. And I learned quickly. I was happy to try my new skills out upon any who were willing to join me in my quest for pleasure,” the prince said.
“Men are fortunate,” Rosamund said.
“How is that?” he asked, curious.
“You may practice your lover’s skills before you are wed. No respectable girl may do so. And once she is wed she is stuck to remain virtuous while her husband may keep other women for his pleasure as well. I think that rather unfair, do you not?”
“But a good woman, especially a man’s wife and his daughters, should be virtuous at all times,” the prince replied primly. “Only whores and courtesans may amuse themselves with lovers.”
“Do you not think me a good lass, Hal?” Rosamund inquired of him innocently.
“Of course you are good,” he quickly answered.
“Then why are you attempting to seduce me—to ruin my reputation, Hal? Someday I must wed. Who will want a lass with a tarnished character? A girl considered the open road for lads? For if you have your way with me, then you will brag on it, and your friends will want my favors as well,” Rosamund finished.
He flushed guiltily. “You were willing,” he said sulkily.
“You demanded a kiss,” she said softly. “One kiss.”
“Your lips are sweet, lady of Friarsgate,” he excused himself.
Before Rosamund might answer him, another voice intruded upon them. A very familiar voice. “Ah, your highness, here you are. Your father has arrived from London and wishes to see you,” Sir Owein Meredith said. His look was curious, although his tone was that of a good retainer.
“The lady has twisted her ankle,” the prince explained hastily. He stood up, Rosamund still in his embrace. Then he handed her off to Sir Owein. “Please take her to my grandmother with my apologies.” He turned to go, but then he turned back to them. “My father is in his privy closet?”
“Yes, your highness,” Sir Owein replied.
The prince hurried off without another word.
“You are unable to walk?” Sir Owein said quietly.
Rosamund nodded, her cheek warm with her embarrassment. To have been discovered in so compromising a position with Prince Henry!
