Upon A Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(45)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

A war raged within Rosalind’s eyes. Any virgin would want to cover herself up, turn red, or possibly scream, but Rosalind’s eyes never left his as she boldly stood before him, offering him everything.

He seized her hand and brought it to his lips, all the while leading her slowly back to the bed and laying her down before him. Tension radiated through her body as he reached for her stockings and with a smile pulled both off and threw them in the general direction of the discarded clothes.

One kiss, two kisses, three kisses up her leg until he reached the curve of her hips. Four kisses, five, and then six, it took him to arrive at her delicate shoulder. Seven kisses, eight, and finally nine as he bestowed a kiss across her lips, he knew being in Rosalind’s arms was where he belonged.

His mouth slanted possessively across hers. Opening to him, she deepened the kiss, equaling his fervor and wrapped her arms around his neck drawing him closer into her warmth.

Desire exploded through him as her hands swirled across his back. She clung to his chest whimpering as she bit his bottom lip, holding it captive between her teeth.

Stefan plunged his tongue again into her mouth. His desire to taste her was so strong he thought to never stop kissing her. With a moan, he seized her body and rolled across the bed, allowing her to lie across him for just an instant, as he wanted to see the outline of her curves through the firelight.

Apparently, going slow was going to prove more difficult than he once thought. Stefan tried to focus on anything but the blood roaring through his ears as Rosalind’s hands began to smoothly explore his body.

"Enough," he said gruffly, grabbing her hands, and turning her on her back yet again. "Enough." He hesitated a second before stripping the remainder of his clothes and joined her yet again, skin on skin, heat radiating from their bodies. He swore no other man would ever touch her, would ever know her. The last thoughts he had before making her his wife.

Rosalind awoke with a smile on her face. Slightly embarrassed at her behavior the night before, she was surprised she felt as rested as she did, especially considering her husband had her up half the night with his lovemaking, a fact Rosalind was not at all ashamed of.

Thirsty, she looked to the right of the bed and noticed her wine glass. Trying not to wake Stefan, she reached for the glass just as his arm came crashing around her body.

"Are you well, Rose?" His voice was haggard with sleep.

"More than well, Stefan. I was merely thirsty."

He sat up in the bed and rubbed her back, massaging the tight muscles as she lifted the cup to her lips.

Rosalind drank the contents of her wine, relishing the taste of sweet berries, and… what was that other unfamiliar taste? In question she raised her eyes to Stefan’s ready to speak, but the words would not come.

Shaking her head against the dizziness she saw in front of her, she tried again, but her lips would not move, her body it seemed was paralyzed. This was no sleeping spell. This was, something much worse.

"Rose? Rose!" Stefan was shaking her body, the last thing she saw through the blurry haze of nothingness was a lone tear run down Stefan’s cheek. And then blackness.

"Rose!" Stefan’s body seemed frozen in place. How could he help her? He looked down at her lips, red as a Rose, yet paralyzed, her eyes now closed. The wine, it had to be the wine.

Cursing he leaned down to listen to her heart, it still beat. She was alive, yet he didn’t know how long or what would happen if he didn’t get the poison out of her system.

A menacing laughter pierced through the night sky.

"Finally! Do you think it was easy spying on the two of you? Lying in wait until you drank of the wine? I thought I would go mad at the sound of your wicked lovemaking. Is she gone then?" The Dowager Countess of Hariss burst through the door, dagger in hand. "He told me how much to use, and I believe I got it just right. Not truly enough to kill her, but I dare say it would take a miracle for her to wake up. Don’t you think?" The dowager’s eyes were blazing with hate.

"Your own daughter!" Stefan’s scream was hoarse. "How could you do this to your own family!"

"Your family has taken everything that I’ve loved, Your Grace. I believe we’re even."

It took everything in Stefan not to charge the mother and drive the dagger straight through her heart. "I’ve done nothing! The curse has made you mad!"

With a scream, she kicked the table over and began pulling at her own hair. "You have done everything! You and your wretched family! If I didn’t have to marry into your family, I could have been happy."

She took a seat on the bed, her fingers slowly grazing the edge of the dagger, back and forth back and forth. Laughing, she looked up at Stefan again. "I was to be married before I met Rosalind’s father. Of course you didn’t know that, but your grandfather did. Because of the curse, I was forced to marry. Imagine everyone’s surprise when I could not gain children from my husband? They blamed me, they all blamed me!"

A tear escaped down her cheek. Stefan realized the only thing he could do was merely sit and wait for the woman to calm down before he stripped her weapon and tied her up. He draped a blanket over Rosalind, and waited for the woman to continue her insane speech, all the while trying to keep a trained eye on Rosalind in hopes that she wasn’t worsening by the minute.

"Blamed you?" Stefan managed to sound curious. "For what?"

"They said my wickedness caused my husband harm! They said—" she panted for breath "—that if I didn’t give him children, the curse would take over the families. It wasn’t enough that we married. We needed children…"

"You have children. You sold one and are attempting to kill another…" Probably not the best time to remind the woman of her madness, but Stefan’s anger was having a hard time staying at bay. A whimper escaped Rosalind. At least she was making noise. Panic seized his heart. He could not lose her now. He couldn’t live if he did.

"They are not my children!" She wailed. "None of them! Edward is their father."

"Are you not their mother?" Stefan noticed Rosalind’s eyes flutter. Thank you, God, he thought.

"I carried them yes, I birthed them, but it was always my fault that my husband could not father children. For my wickedness with another man, the same man that fathered them. And now he hates me — he has turned on me all because I wanted the money."

"The money?" Truly, if Stefan wasn’t so worried, he would have a half a mind to be confused. Was she merely mad or speaking truths?"

"Yes, we needed money. But we have money now, and we have a title. The curse is broken with you two married, but I could not allow you to be happy. I am sorry. I really am. But it would not be fair for you two to be happy while I have been sad and rejected all my life."