She was tight. She was hot. She was an endless delight of which he could not get enough. He thrust and withdrew. Thrust and withdrew, moving slowly at first, and then as their desires burgeoned, his rhythm increased, as did hers. He heard her low keening and his own groans of satisfaction. His head was spinning. He felt her sharp fingernails raking down his long back and swore softly at her, his fingers closing hard about her wrists and forcing her arms up where she could not damage him again. “Bitch!” he growled against her mouth.
“Devil!” she hissed back, and then she screamed softly as her body was convulsed with a series of shudders. “Ohhh, Patrick,” she sighed.
His own completion met hers, and he flooded her with his juices. “Rosamund! Rosamund!” he half-sobbed.
They lay together until their breathing became slower and softer once again. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, kissing each finger as he did. Rosamund closed her eyes and sighed, well satisfied. She knew, as she had known from the moment their eyes met, that this passion they shared could not be forever, but for now it was wonderful, and she would not think about tomorrow. If she died in her sleep tonight, what they had was more than enough. She reached out lifted the hand holding her, and kissed it. Then she placed it on her heart. Neither of them said a word. Words were not necessary.
They slept, awaking a while later to a tentative knock upon the bedchamber door.
“Yes?” Rosamund called.
“Master Pietro has come to say the seamstress will be here in half an hour, my lady,” Annie called.
“We will be ready for her,” Rosamund called back. She poked her lover gently.
“We have to get up, my lord, and wash the scent of our lust away. The tub will be cool now, but it will suffice.”
They went back out upon the terrace, and to Rosamund’s surprise the water was not at all icy, for the sun had kept it lukewarm. She and Patrick climbed into the oak vessel and quickly bathed again. She had forgotten to pin her hair up, and the tips of it were wet when she exited the water. She dried herself quickly and then dried Patrick as well.
“Well, I have a chemise to wear,” she said, “but what will you wear? Not that Signora Celestina hasn’t already seen what you have to offer, my lord,” she taunted him.
He chuckled. “Dermid has had Pietro find me some haut-de-chausses and hose, and I have a shirt. I shall be more than respectable when I meet with Celestina again.”
“Then go and dress, my lord, so we may at least give the impression of respectability,” she told him.
He nodded and walked back into her bedchamber and through the door into his own quarters.
Rosamund looked for the saddlebag and found it on the floor by the bed. Opening it, she pulled out a lace-trimmed chemise. It was clean and of excellent quality. She put it on and then sat upon the edge of the bed to brush her hair out and braid it up neatly. She was eager to wear a gown again.
She heard voices in the dayroom beyond. Then came a knock upon her bedchamber door, and Rosamund opened the portal and stepped through into the dayroom. At the same time, the Earl of Glenkirk came from his bedchamber. The large woman with the black hair and black eyes ignored Rosamund and shrieked as she saw the earl.
“Patrizio! Santa Maria be blessed, for I never hoped to see you again!” She flung her arms about him, enveloping him in a suffocating hug.
Patrick was hard-pressed not to burst into laughter. This was Celestina after eighteen years. He remembered the seductive, sulky-mouthed girl who had become his mistress all those years ago. He managed to squirm from her embrace, and taking her by her broad shoulders, he kissed her firmly upon her red lips. “Celestina! Santa Maria, there is three times as much of you to love now!” Then he set her back. “You have changed little, cara,” he told her.
“I’ve changed a lot,” she said with a hearty laugh. “For every bit of flesh I have put on my bones I have put as much in my purse, Patrizio! I have six children, as well.”
“And how many husbands have you buried, cara?” he teased her.
“Husbands?” She burst into laughter. “Who has time for husbands, Patrizio?”
Now her gaze swept across the room and lit on Rosamund. “This fair little girl is your latest mistress? We will have to feed her, for she does not look as if she eats. Does she speak some language with which I can communicate with her?” They had been speaking in Italian.
“French, Celestina, but speak slowly, cara. And do not attempt to cheat her. She is the owner of a large estate, which she manages herself, and quite successfully.”
“Scotch?” Celestina inquired.
“English,” the earl replied. “And your father has explained to you that I am here privately to visit my old friend, the duke. You will not gossip, cara, eh?”
“There is an English ambassador here now,” Celestina said, gauging his reaction.
“I know,” the earl replied, “but Rosamund would not be anyone of importance that he should know about. She is not connected with the royal court.”
Celestina nodded. “Madame,” she said, walking across the room to Rosamund, “I have brought a gown that will serve you until I can make you a wardrobe.” She was now speaking French.
“Thank you,” Rosamund replied. “May I see it?”
“Maria! Quickly!” She called to the young girl accompanying her.
