A Rough Wooing by Virginia Henley Page A

miles to the south.
    “Would you like to see inside? The Great Hall
boasts a massive fireplace at each end and high mullioned
windows.”
    “Do you have a library?”
    He heard the eager note in her voice that
told him she loved books. “Indeed I do have a library whose
bookshelves reach to the ceiling.”
    She gave him a radiant smile. “Then how can I
resist?”
    He dismounted in a flash, quickly tethered
their mounts, and came to her side. He took a deep appreciative
breath, inhaling her fragrance of lemon verbena. This time he did
not offer his arms because he knew she was perverse enough to
reject him.
    Douglas suspected it was a shrewd calculation
on his part, because that is exactly what she had planned to do.
She slid from the saddle, making sure her shapely legs clad in the
soft leather boots were displayed for his enjoyment. As they
climbed the steps together, she realized she only came up to his
shoulder, and his powerful build made her feel extremely
feminine.
    He opened the heavy door and her skirt
brushed against his legs as she walked into the entrance hall. A
male servant nodded to the master, then discreetly disappeared. It
made Douglas wonder just how frequently females visited Beaumont
Hall.
    She was drawn to the Great Hall by the
crackling fire. He towered beside her as she held out her hands to
the welcome heat.
    I could warm my hands at your blazing
hair.
    She glanced up at him as if she had heard his
thought.
    “My hospitality is remiss. Would you prefer
wine or mulled ale?”
    She stared about the room and saw the wine
table with its crystal decanters. “Mulled ale, please.”
    He hid his amusement. “I thought you would.
I’ll fetch a barrel of ale from the still-room. Why don’t you wait
for me in the library?”
    “A brilliant suggestion.” The library opened
off the Great Hall, and when Douglas saw the spacious room with its
leather-bound volumes stretching up to the ceiling, she was once
again consumed with envy. There were almost too many books to
comprehend.
    Her attention was caught by a silver
reflection of light on the polished oak desk, and it drew her like
a lodestone. The exquisite object was a large mirrored pendant. She
picked it up reverently and stared into its depths in awe. She had
never seen anything quite like it before and she coveted it with
all her heart. She ran her finger over the delicate silver filigree
and touched her fingertip to the glittering emeralds that formed a
vine. She wondered if the flowers could possibly be cabochon
diamonds.
    Suddenly, she saw the reflection of a dark
face in the mirror. She gasped and spun around guiltily to find
Greystoke behind her.
    “I thought your fascination was books, but I
see you are also drawn to objets d’art.”
    “Only if they are priceless!” she assured
him.
    He set down the two mugs of ale he was
carrying on a small table before the library fire, took the poker
and shoved it into the coals. When it glowed red he thrust the
poker into the ale, heating it until it foamed. He handed her a mug
and gestured toward a pair of cushioned chairs beside the desk.
    Douglas sat down, lifted the ale to her lips,
and took a few swallows with lusty appreciation. “Thank you. It’s
delicious. I warrant you brew it yourself.”
    He nodded. “I’m glad you like it.”
    “It’s almost as good as the ale my brother
brews,” she teased. Her eyes were drawn back to the mirrored
medallion. “How old is that lovely pendant?”
    “I would guess it is quite ancient. I believe
it is a Byzantine treasure brought back from the Crusades. It
belonged to my grandmother.”
    “A gift from a besotted lover perhaps?”
    His dark eyes licked over her like a candle
flame. “Perhaps.”
    Douglas stood up and strolled to the
bookshelves, avidly reading the titles as she drank her ale. Thou
shalt not covet thy neighbor’s library, she admonished herself with
a sigh, but I could stay in this room for weeks and never want to
leave. She drained