Upon a Midnight Dream (11 page)

Then the woman drove her heel into his boot sending a yelp of pain out of Stefan’s mouth before he could stop it.

Rosalind smirked. “Sorry sir, it seems my husband is nursing some fears of his own as well. Aren’t you husband?” She turned to look at the innkeeper. “Seems tonight will be a night of many firsts. Can you imagine? A duke as innocent as this one!” Rosalind sent an elbow sailing into Stefan's stomach. “Now, about those rooms.”

The innkeeper smiled revealing two rotting teeth. “Yes, well you see, we only have.”

“One room?” Rosalind guessed.

Stefan winced. Leave it to Rosalind to make an even bigger spectacle; more than likely she would start shouting at any minute.

“Yes, my lady, or Your Grace?” He said it as a question, apparently still not sure with whom he was conversing.

“The Duchess of Montmouth, but we need to keep it a secret. You see I ran away to escape my evil mother only to be rescued by this brute here and his glorious horse—“

“—here we go.” Stefan muttered a curse and shook his head.

“His horse is lovely, by the way,” Rosalind patted the innkeeper’s hand. He leaned forward with obvious rapture at Rosalind’s treatment of him. “Where was I? Oh yes, the rescue! So, as I was saying. The Duke here, came searching for me as a man would his long lost princess and now we are returning to claim what is rightfully ours!”

The innkeeper sighed. “That’s a lovely story, Your Grace.”

“Indeed,” Stefan grumbled.

“And can you imagine that this one here didn’t even offer me a proper proposal?” Her finger pointed directly into Stefan’s face making him sweat profusely under his tight fitting jacket. Devil take it, where was the air in that tiny hole?

“No proposal, miss?” A woman came up behind the innkeeper and shook her head. “What type of man doesn’t propose to the woman he rescues?”

Somehow, Rosalind managed watery eyes as she shook her head in feigned sadness. “He merely said we must marry at once!”

Both gasped.

“And you haven’t heard the worst of it.”

Stefan tugged on Rosalind’s arm. “I’m sure they don’t need to hear—”

“—He took advantage of me being without a chaperone, and he still hasn’t wooed me!”

“Woo?” The innkeeper said as the woman continued to shake her head.

“Yes, woo.” Rosalind confirmed.

The innkeeper looked to Stefan. “Did you try flowers?”

“Or sonnets?” The woman chimed in clapping her hands.

Expletives poured out of Stefan’s mouth before he was able to say anything remotely appropriate. Unfortunately, his goal had not in fact been to appall everyone, including himself, though he succeeded admirably if the shocked expressions on everyone’s faces were any indication. Had he lost all control over himself? His horse would be doing a better job than he at this moment! Wincing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away.

“Your Grace.” The lady shook her head somberly at Rosalind as if she felt sorry for the obvious hardship she was undertaking in accepting Stefan’s proposal of marriage. “I will prepare the best of rooms for you and your brute of a husband. Now, why don’t you go over and have yourself a nice cup of tea while my husband here gives yours some pointers. Surely he needs them! To think a virgin man who demands women to marry him without any sort of romance! Well, I’m troubled by it!”

“Virgin!” Stefan roared.

“Shhh…,” the lady hushed him. “All will be well. Your fear will hold you back no longer, Your Grace.”

Stefan had several things at the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say, none of them appropriate. “My wife, it seems has been misleading. I’m not afraid...” He choked somehow on his tongue, as it became like sand in his mouth. Why was he so blasted nervous?

“Off you go!” the woman called to Rosalind. The girl smiled triumphantly as she strutted over to a small table.

“Conniving, impetuous, manipulative—”

“—Your Grace?” The innkeeper cleared his throat. “Now, I’ll have the room ready in a small bit. We need to do some—”
Cough
“—rearranging of our guests, so if you’d like a tankard of ale or whiskey while you wait, I can easily…” He cleared his throat again. “That is to say, I can go over a few specifics for such a night, if you—”

“—I am not virgin!” Stefan shouted, drawing the attention of every eye in the room and more than likely every ear on the continent. Men and women everywhere burst out laughing.

He was going to kill her.

Slowly.

And then pleasure her until she couldn’t take it.

And promptly leave her—alone, cold and in the bed without any way to rid herself of the heightened lovemaking and the emotions that went with it.

“You’re smiling, Your Grace. I take it your fear has lessened.” The innkeeper lifted an eyebrow.

“Immensely, thank you for your…talk.” He shook the mans hand and went to sit by the little chit who thought making a laughingstock out of him would keep his more carnal instincts at bay.

She was in for a rude awakening.

Or possibly just an awakening like none other, and he couldn’t wait to be the one man to bring her to her knees.

His happiness at pleasuring her trumped his desire to strangle her as he made his way to where the manipulative little thing sat.

“Oh, the virgin approaches!” Rosalind lifted her cup of tea with a snicker.

Stefan opened his mouth to give her a good set down, but she interrupted.

“I find your need to control everything extremely aggravating.”

Stefan slammed his ale on the counter. “Well I find your need to embarrass a man in front of a large group of people infuriating!”

“It helped!”

“Oh, good. The insane woman thinks it helped! Well, perfect! And just how did you announcing that little tidbit to the entirety of the inn help, sweetheart?”

“You’ll see.” She winked.

Stefan continued to glare at Rosalind as her dainty lips parted every so often in order to drink her tea. Scowling, he crossed his arms across his chest and tried not to think about that delectable mouth of hers. The same mouth that had the power to bring him to his knees or make him want to throttle her with one breath.

Just how long did it take to ready such a room, anyway? Just as Stefan was contemplating making a move to ask the innkeeper, Rosalind’s eyes locked onto something behind him.

He turned around.

“Your Grace?” The innkeeper’s wife approached. “Your rooms are ready if you’ll just follow me.” A slight blush stained her cheeks as she led them up the stairs and down the hall to the farthest door at the end.

“‘Tis our best room. Though we’ve only a small inn, we wanted to give you as much privacy as you needed.” The blush deepened.

Stefan clenched his teeth and sent a seething glare to Rosalind, who merely gave him that confident shrug he found so blasted irritating.

“We are so very honored you have chosen to stay with us tonight.” She unlocked the door and handed Stefan the key before rushing out of sight.

“Well,” Stefan looked to Rosalind. “May as well make the lie believable.”

And with that he pulled Rosalind into his arms and carried her across the threshold, fighting with everything in him not to actually blush at the cheer that came from below the stairs.

With a grunt, he pushed the door open. And promptly dropped the very woman he was carrying onto the cold hard ground.

Rosalind squeaked as she hit the floor with a thud. Stefan smirked and reached to pull her to her feet, but she slapped him away with dainty hands.

“Mind allowing me the courtesy of knowing why in heaven’s name you would drop me?” She seethed.

Unfortunately, Rosalind’s cheeks were rosy and vibrant. Pieces of hair had all but fallen out of her coiffure and rested very slightly against her soft face. In that instant, Stefan felt himself blush. Actually experienced the feeling of all the blood rushing to his face—his need, his desire, and actual embarrassment over the shameful things he was going to do to her came barreling forward into his consciousness as he looked at the beautiful woman in front of him, and the breath-taking room they had been given.

A bath was drawn, the smell of rose water fresh in the air. A small dinner and bottle of wine sat in the corner and in all her haste the innkeepers wife was still able to scatter about tiny little candles everywhere, which he knew would be expensive for such a small inn. It seemed to have remnants of a romantic night full of pleasure and fantasy everywhere. The darkness of the room draped in candlelight sent chills through his body. Selfishly he wanted it to be real. All of it…and he wondered if he had already ruined everything by his careless proposals.

He truly expected Samson to burst his head through the windows covered in roses. A more magical room he had never before seen.

At least that was what he thought, until his eyes took their fill of Rosalind as she twirled around the enchanted room and laughed.

In his head, it happened like a slow aching dream. Vibrant red hair danced around her shoulders, green eyes closed in rapture. Long black eyelashes fanned against her high cheekbones, and her sultry laugh rang through the room. Absorbed, he could only continue to watch and curse himself for truly feeling like a virgin.

Biting back an oath, Stefan swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat. Finally, she stopped her twirling and looked at him.

He desperately wished she would have continued, for then he wouldn’t have to see the clarity of her eyes, the bewitching beauty of her face, nor the cursed lift of her chin as she awaited his apology.

“Sorry, I was wrong. Did you want to bathe first?” The words were rushed and foreign as they flowed from his lips. Stefan’s feet took him opposite Rosalind in the room. He needed to stay away from the warmth of her body. He hadn’t meant for the words to tumble out of his mouth as fast as they did, and hoped she would be grateful that he at least admitted his wrong.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Rosalind asked.

“An apology.”

“Oh. The clarification is much appreciated; I wasn’t able to hear the full apology considering you weren’t actually looking in my direction. Weren’t you scolding me of that very thing the day before last?”

Must women remember everything? “I will admit to doing so, yes. And…” he exhaled as he turned to look at her. “I apologize, for my harshness earlier, and for my anger.”
As well as threatening to pleasure you then promptly leave
.

“Accepted.” White teeth bit across her bottom lip as she put her hands on her hips in thought. “I believe I’ll bathe first, since the spoils of war are mine, Your Grace.”

Brilliant. She was the type to rub in defeat. How fortunate for him. “I’ll just be downstairs then.” Turning in every direction but the door he needed to exit, Stefan was finally able to make his escape, though the echo of Rosalind’s mocking laughter from within the room was enough to cause him the desire to barge in on her bath. After all, she was to be his wife in mere days, that is, if he could get his proposals correct. And learn how to romance better than his horse.

Apparently the cards were stacked quite heavily against him. With a grunt, he kicked the side of the wall with his polished boot. It did wonders for his outlook on life. If only he could join Mary and Alfred in the stables, perhaps then his lust would cool. Yes, a toss in the hay that was exactly what he needed. Except that, when his brain thought of tossing and hay together, it conjured up images of Rosalind in the hay. Grunting, he kicked the wall again as he made his way back down for a tankard of ale. The poorly lit establishment at least offered ale that didn’t taste sour. He managed a small smile as he downed his first tankard and looked around at the rest of the patrons. Now if he could just get his lust for the woman out of his mind so he could have a peaceful night’s sleep without waking up with aching need.

Perhaps he would have two tankards.

I know a lady in Venice who would have walked barefoot

To Palestine for a taste of his nether lip—Othello

Rosalind slipped out of her traveling dress with a moan. Unfortunately the moan made her think of Stefan, which was entirely improper, not that she could help it. The man was a virile god compared to those she was used to associating with. It was why, in her mind, she needed to be his intellectual equal on all planes, for when he smiled, or even touched her - all bets were off.

With a little twisting she was able to rid herself of her corset, chemise, and stockings. The hot water looked divine and inviting. With glee she lifted her leg into the water. Rosalind closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax into the hot bath. After a while, she thought it would be best to actually wash so that Stefan could return. Yawning, she reached for the soap.

A fierce pounding at the door caused her to jump with fright. “Open up, Rosalind. I’ve changed my mind.” It could hardly be considered a knock for the brute was nearly taking the door down with all the force he was using. What the devil did that savage want!

“No!” she yelled, unladylike and loud enough to give him the idea that he was not welcome during her peaceful bath time.