Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(32)

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.





Chapter Twelve


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.

“Yes!” Stefan roared. “We are to be husband and wife, Rosalind, and I will not stand out here like some boy wet behind the ears because I cannot at least sit in the room with a woman I’m attracted to while she bathes.”

“The self control of a saint, I’m sure!” Rosalind mocked.

“You have my word, I’ll turn around, I just cannot be down with the rest of the patrons any longer.”

“And why is that, Your Grace?”

A long silence ensued. “They keep referring to…it.”

Rosalind grabbed the long dressing robe left by the innkeeper’s wife and wrapped it around her body. “Your Grace, I believe you’re going to need to be more specific as to what it is.”

“Allow me entrance, and I will.”

“This door opens when you tell me.”

“Virginity,” he mumbled.

Rosalind covered her mouth in laughter. “Are they teasing you, Your Grace?”

Another long drawn out silence. “Yes.”

“Very well, but you must close your eyes, otherwise I’ll bring Mary in here with her cane. No telling what she may do if she sees me in my current state of undress with you present.”

“Agreed.” Stefan said.

Reaching for the door, Rosalind allowed herself one more burst of laughter before she pulled it open revealing a slightly red and if appearance was any indicator, possibly foxed Stefan.

“How much ale have you consumed?” she asked.

Stefan pushed past her, not even glancing at her robe. “Not enough, Rose. Not enough.” He cursed under his breath as he walked to the window then back again to the door, slamming it closed. As his hand rested across the wood, he stood, nay swayed in front of her, then turned on his heel and went to the bed and closed his eyes. “You may proceed.”

Why did she get the feeling that she was a courtesan? “Close your eyes, Your Grace.”

“I assure you, I have no desire to be caned, Rosalind. Take your bath, and be quick about it, my muscles ache and my pride is non-existent. I want nothing more than to drown myself in your bath water in hopes of erasing my memory of the Innkeeper showing me the proper way to kiss a lady.”

The man was making it torture not to burst out laughing. Putting her hand over her mouth, Rosalind waited a minute before answering. Saints alive! The last person on God’s green earth that needed to learn how to properly kiss a woman was Stefan. If anything he was too skilled for words. The man should be teaching others how to kiss and properly make a lady a pile of wantonness. After a few minutes, she felt she was able to answer without giving him clue to her amusement. “I’m sure that was very hard on you, Stefan.”

“Yes, well. Difficult and hard circumstances have been an every day occurrence in your presence. I may just cane myself by the end of our little trip. Perhaps your godmother will do me the courtesy.”

“And have Mary miss out?” Rosalind laughed. “I doubt she would be pleased.” She stepped around the screen and threw off the robe. Goosebumps rose across her flesh as she took a step into the tub and slowly sank down into the warmth.

“Ahhhh.” She moaned aloud, completely lost in ecstasy.

“Rosalind,” Stefan said hoarsely.

“Hmm?”