Chapter 10
What’s a woman to do? I wrapped my arms around Prince Escalus, put my head on his chest, and cradled him, as much as it is possible for a woman of my height to cradle a man of his.
“Holofernes is right. You’re not alone. The man who was born from darkness and pain was not the boy who went in, and I’m with you, Cal.
I’m going to be your wife. I’m the person to whom you can reveal your inner rages, frustrations, desires, joys.
” It was a vow I would make again and again, until he heard more than the words, he heard me.
Which seemingly was not now. “I swore to be a just and thoughtful ruler, and to always think before I act, and never in a temper. To hit your uncle in such a manner puts the lie to that resolve”—after taking my arms, he set me back—“and I’ll not compound my sin by breaking another vow.”
“What vow is that?”
“I swore not to touch you.”
“You’re not touching me. I’m touching you.”
The look on his face, gentle reader, I’m telling you, it was priceless.
A man of honor caught on the horns of his horn.
So to speak. But he’d already broken a vow that was important to him, and now he weighed my perhaps specious reasoning against the need that, I flattered myself, had driven him mad.
While staring into his dark, tormented eyes, I untied the ribbon at the top of my chemise.
Actually, my well-laced kirtle held everything together, so my action revealed perhaps a thumb’s width of additional cleavage, but my breasts drew his gaze as if they were lodestones.
In a movement of languid promise, I gripped the long gold chain that hung around my neck and pulled the yellow enamel bird from its hiding place.
It was warm from my body. It glittered and shone.
The rose, heady in its rich red color, represented passion to Cal.
I knew that, for I am the daughter of Juliet. Lifting the gift he had given me, I never took my gaze from his face as I pressed a kiss on it, then slid it back into my cleavage.
I know how to wield The Power.
With my hands on Cal’s waist, I turned him once again toward the cabinet.
Leaning against his back, I took his palms and placed them flat against the wood, exactly the pose he had adopted in his self-anger.
I ran my hands down and up his rigid spine, then started at his shoulders and began a firm massage of his taut muscles.
Which then grew tauter. Was the restriction against touching me affecting his reaction?
No doubt.
How delightful. His constantly commanding behavior proved he liked to be in charge, indeed believed it was his right. He’d plainly told me during a previous encounter that he intended to guide me into the delights of womanhood.
I had forcefully and physically explained that, no, what would happen between us would involve more than my passive acceptance. He had understood my point of view and …
Ha ha ha ha. Gentle reader, you caught me.
Cal, of course, had paid no attention to my insignificant (in his eyes) rebellion.
He honestly seemed to think that because I was a virgin, I was also an idiot who could neither see nor hear nor comprehend the intricacies of physical union.
Like I hadn’t been hearing my parents for years.
Like the whole performance was all that intricate!
He took a breath, possibly the first he’d taken since I’d started my massage. “Rosie … I can feel you smiling.”
No way could he know that, but I had to give him points for acuity. “I’m relishing this unique occasion of complete control.”
“I could walk away.”
“You could. Yet … you linger.” Leaning into him, I took a long breath and discovered an elusive scent, one that called to me.
“You smell like … smoky fires under a forest night sky.” I breathed deep again.
“Like mountain air rich with evergreen needles trod underfoot and snow that hovers above, waiting to descend. You smell like old traditions rich with solemn ritual and resounding joy.”
“Resounding joy is a noise.”
I leaned around under his arm and glared at him.
“Mi dispiace,” he said hastily. “Go on.”
I returned to my position at his back. I slid my hands down to his very fine buttocks and pressed on them, using my fingers to discover the firm contours and, in the process, losing myself in the awareness that, for the moment, this fit man was mine to do with as I pleased.
“Beneath it all you smell like sorrow. Of days gone, never to return, and perhaps hope of a better time.”
“All that?” He sounded amused. “Rosie, give you a man’s natiche to fondle, and you’re as poetic as any of your family.”
“Now I can feel you smiling.” Which, considering his earlier disgust at himself, meant I’d succeeded in my goal for him.
“Yes. For this one moment, we are in accord.”
Now … for my goal. I pressed myself against his back and slid my hands around his waist and down toward his—
The office door slammed open, and an outraged Friar Laurence loomed in the entrance.
Not now! I thumped my forehead on Cal’s back.
Friar Laurence began, “Prince Escalus of the house of Leonardi …”
Trouble. He was calling Cal by his full name.
“I am shocked at your failure of both honor and virtue.”
Cal made no move, and indeed, I didn’t expect he’d defend himself at my expense, so in a flurry I rushed to confront the good friar, who was, after all, only doing the job to which he’d been called.
“He swore not to touch me, and indeed, he has not broken his vow.” Knowing exactly what was going to happen, I said what I’d said to Cal. “I touched him.”
Friar Laurence’s brown eyes bulged, and he stammered, “You … you …”
“I’m Rosie,” I said helpfully.
“Lady Rosaline of the house of Montague, when did you become a daughter of Eve, tempting good men with your straight gaze and wanton touch? When did you come to have so little respect for your own …?” He seemed at a loss for words.
“Virginity?” Cal supplied.
Friar Laurence paced into the chamber, glaring. “The flower of her womanhood, which she has preserved so assiduously through so many suitors, must be guarded by her herself until she is bound to the man her father has chosen.”
Where had Friar Laurence been through the past harrowing few months? My father didn’t choose Cal. He chose himself.
Friar Laurence continued in full rant. “In holy matrimony and can give herself freely and in the union blessed by the Church. Without the marriage ceremony and the vows given in the eyes of God, this is little more than fornicazione, and for that, you must atone immediately lest you carry the sin on your soul until Judgment Day, when demons will drag you to hell.”
Cal looked over Friar Laurence’s shoulder toward the corridor.
I heard it, too, and even Friar Laurence fell silent at the sound of boots striking the boards at a great pace.
Once again, Holofernes sprinted in and shouted, “Come. I beg you, come at once to the great hall! Lord Romeo, Lord Magno, and his learned companion, Lord Bortolo, cracked a barrel of wine sent as a gift for the wedding party. They have been poisoned and lie on the brink of death!”