Beautiful Rose

Chapter 1-3

Vidal concentrated on breathing, not speaking. Somehow, I will survive this. I don’t know how, but I will. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up and studied Rosalind’s face. She said nothing, but her emerald eyes were wide with sorrow. Brilliant unshed tears twinkled in them.

“What is it, Rosalinda?”

“I can’t bear to see you in so much pain,” she whispered.

He reacted without thinking, pulling at her arms until she tumbled into his lap. He embraced her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him. In some unexplainable way, her empathy lanced the wound festering in his heart like a surgeon’s scalpel and let his pent-up emotions out. He had known he would eventually let go but had hoped to wait until he was alone.

Now, with Rosalind in his arms, he allowed himself to feel the pain of his loss. He trembled, beyond shame, as the grief washed over him. So, she bears witness to my weakness. What does it matter? Nothing matters without Carmen.

How long they stayed locked together in a crushing embrace, neither of them knew. It felt like an eternity. Finally, Vidal gathered his wits. His outpouring of emotion left him feeling vulnerable, and he drew back, scrubbing at his forehead with one hand.

Rosalind, seeming to realize at last the impropriety of their position, slid off Vidal’s lap.

Paralyzing desolation washed over him. He grasped her slender wrist. “Don’t go,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

She ran a gentle hand over his cheek, stroking his beard. His skin tingled, shooting warmth down his torso.

“As you wish,” she told him. “I’m here. I will give you anything, if only you ask.”

He rose from the chair and embraced her again. She wrapped her arms around him. More heat welled up in his insides. This time, it shot to his groin. “Why are you so kind to me?” he asked her, startled by the unexpected sensation and the woman who had generated it.

“I care for you, Vidal. Ask me for anything you want, and I will give it to you, even my life.” The depths of her soul sparkled in her emerald eyes.

I said very nearly those same words to Carmen once, not long ago. It was a pledge of love. Surely, she can’t mean it the same way. He didn’t stop to think what the implications might ultimately be. He placed his hand under her chin and tipped her head up so that he looked directly into his eyes. She didn’t shy away, but gazed back, bolder than he had ever seen her before.

“Spend the night with me.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Vidal snapped his mouth shut, appalled at himself. What’s wrong with you, man? Here, she offers you comfort, and you request… s*x?

“It would be an easy way to stop thinking about Carmen for a time,” the sly voice of temptation reminded him, calling his attention to the pleasing way in which her curves molded to his body.

No, Vidal reminded his straining erection. It’s wrong to invite one woman to my bed while thinking of another. How could I even suggest using my unexpected source of support in such a way? Surely now she’ll turn away from me.

Rosalind blinked in surprise, her luminous eyes suddenly round.

Vidal could have kicked himself. What a deplorable request to make, his conscience scolded. “I’m sorry, Rosalinda,” he said quickly, “I spoke without thinking. I certainly don’t want you to…”

She put her hand over his mouth, silencing him, and then met his eyes with that same directness that had disconcerted him a moment ago. “Anything,” she said softly, then rose on tiptoes and pressed a shy kiss to Vidal’s cheek.

Her acceptance shocked him. She agreed? She must know what I’m asking, or her cheeks would not be quite so pink, yet she acquiesced to my scandalous proposition.

He longed for the strength to take back his words, but he knew the struggle would be futile. He needed all this represented: the connection to another person so he would not be alone as well as the oblivion.

Without a moment’s further hesitation, he swept her into his arms and carried her through the abandoned corridor, his footsteps echoing on the oversized, dusty-red tiles, and up the stairs. They did not meet any servants. Night had fallen, and everyone had gone to bed. He took her up to his room and shut the door with his foot, then slowly lowered her to the floor.

Rosalind chewed her lip nervously as she regarded Vidal’s private space.

He watched her take in his surprisingly modest chamber; its moderate size, its warm wood floors and its ornate wardrobe in the corner. Two shuttered windows stood wide open, admitting the cool autumn breeze. The huge bed, made up with a spotless white coverlet and fat, fluffy pillows, dominated the space.

Her attention focused on the bed, and she stiffened.

Uncertain, and no surprise. A frisson of guilt flared in his belly. I should let her leave. Preserve her modesty and her reputation. The thought, though wise, generated a miserable feeling of dread and emptiness. At war with himself, he asked, “Are you sure about this?”

She shook herself. Her glowing eyes fixated on his face, their depths filled with an emotion he didn’t deserve. “Yes, Vidal. If it will provide you some comfort, how can I refuse?”

“Far too easily, I’m afraid. It was wrong of me to ask you,” he admitted. Still locked in a pitched battle between conscience and need, his hand hovered close to her face, wanting to touch but not quite daring. The moment drew out wire-taut, tension growing between them as propriety warred with emotion.

Rosalind reached out and laid a single finger against Vidal’s lips to silence him.

Inertia shattered, he nibbled the calloused skin with his lips. She tasted of sweet fruit and succulent woman.

A shiver shook Rosalind’s slim frame. She bit her lip and looked up at him through a thick fringe of dark lashes.

Ah, now that look is promising. To test her resolve, he teased her with the tip of his tongue. A soft sound, part moan, part hum came from her. “Like that, do you?”

She nodded.

He had not expected her to be this responsive, this willing. With luck, he could focus entirely on pleasuring her and banish his pain from his awareness.

He led her to the bed and sat down beside her on it. I never brought a woman to this bed before. Carmen was to be the first. There’s a sort of grim justice in having another woman here when that traitorous wench is no doubt busy with another man.

Wrong thought! How could I think of Carmen when Rosalind is here, sitting on my bed, waiting for me to make love to her?

Forcing his focus back to the woman before him, he ran his fingers over her face, tracing the delicate features. Straight nose, large, luminous green eyes framed with lush black lashes, slender, arched brows, full sensual lips. He turned her toward him, tipping her face upwards.

She looked at him, trusting, her expression full of desire.

Wait, desire? Not determination? Not shame? He could see some fear tightening the corners of her mouth, but what looked suspiciously like a hint of triumph lingered in her eyes, as though a long-sought prize finally lay within her grasp.

He veered away from that thought. It was more than he could deal with at this moment. Turning his full attention back to Rosalind, he brushed his thumb over her lush bottom lip. She kissed it.

“Do you know what will happen?” he asked. Despite their friendship, he knew almost nothing about her personal life or past. She might have escaped a convent or a brothel for all he knew.

“I have a basic idea,” she told him.

I hope her basic idea involves enough reality that what’s to come will not shock her. “I want to kiss you,” he told her. “May I?”

She laughed softly; a charming sound. “Señor, if we’re to spend the night together, you needn’t ask permission for each step.”

“If we are to spend the night together, you mustn’t use my title. Tonight, and in the future, I am Vidal to you.”

That victorious grin flashed again.

He lowered his face to hers. Her lips welcomed him warmly, and he savored their sweetness for an endless moment before tracing them with his tongue, urging them to part. Obediently, she opened her mouth, letting him penetrate her. It had been many years since he had tasted a woman’s mouth, he had nearly forgotten what a lovely sensation it was. She tasted of wine, and she welcomed him without hesitation. Then she tentatively stroked his tongue with hers.

White-hot desire shot through Vidal, and his s*x hardened. Whether from a desire for revenge, overwhelmed emotions or the aching tenderness caused by her tenacious sympathy, he didn’t care. It was enough that desire had arisen.

He tugged on Rosalind’s shoulder gently, trying to pull her against his body, but their side-by-side position complicated the alignment. She pulled away, kicking off her shoes, and scrambled up on the bed to lie back against the pillows. Vidal followed and she pulled him into a lush embrace. This time, her tongue explored his mouth with a boldness that further incited him. He slid his arms under her back and lay over her, her breasts squashed against his chest. She clung to him with equal fervor.

You’re taking advantage, his conscience told him. You’re doing your dear friend a terrible disservice. She deserves better than a clandestine encounter whose sole purpose was to help you forget another woman. If Rosalind is to have a lover, it should be because a man cannot help wanting her. Well, he did want her, but not for the right reasons.

She moaned against his lips, and his argument collapsed. I cannot resist her. I simply cannot turn down her offer. He pulled back, staring down into her luminous eyes. Their light drew him back. Back into her siren’s embrace, where he could drown in her tender affection. His lips claimed hers again. Right or wrong, I must accept what she is offering, but I must make it as pleasurable for her as it is for me.

To that end, he worked one hand around and began caressing her breast. Even through all the layers of fabric, he could feel her n****e tighten. He captured the bud between his fingers and pinched gently.

She hummed with pleasure.