They heard nothing from the king. He had sent his daughter no gift to commemorate her marriage. Part of Adair was angered by his dismissal. Another part was
relieved. The duke had sent to inquire after them before the snows. He had sent them a footed silver-and-gilt salt dish for their high board. And he had sent Adair a delicate gold chain from which hung a small ruby heart. To Adair he had written,My dear child, your uncle is sovery pleased with you. May Jesu and his blessed MotherMary keep you safe always. Uncle Dickon.Adair wept when she read the small parchment missive.
“He has always been so caring.” She sniffled against Andrew’s shoulder.
“He is the most honorable man I have ever known,”Andrew said.
And as the winter slowly passed, the intimacy they shared began to grow deeper. Andrew was a gentle and considerate lover to his young wife. Adair became bolder in her lovemaking. The servants noticed that they sought their bed early each evening. They would nod and smile at each other, and Elsbeth predicted an heir to Stanton before many months had passed. Yet Adair showed no signs of conceiving, and it disturbed her, for she felt her chief duty as the lady of Stanton was to produce the next earl. And she believed it was her fault.
She did not love her husband. She liked him. And she respected him. And after that first difficult night, she had learned to enjoy the lustful moments that they shared. Enjoy? Nay. She relished the moments she lay in his arms. She adored feeling him deep within her, knowing that her body made him weak with his need. But she felt no deep desire for him, as Anne Neville felt for her duke. You could see it when they were together. The air fairly crackled with the passion those two felt for each other. Adair sighed. Admittedly such love between a husband and wife was a rare thing. She wondered if he loved her. He had not said it, but she longed to know if he did.
They had been united in marriage for several reasons, but none of them had to do with love. Adair supposedshe was fortunate in that she liked her husband, and enjoyed his hunger for her body, and could reciprocate that lust. At least he was not the pimpled FitzTudor.
Even now, especially now that she understood the close-ness of intimacy, she shuddered with the thought that he might have possessed her body. She doubted he would have treated her virginity with the care that Andrew had.
“You are restless tonight,” he said, breaking her train of thought. They lay abed.
“It is the wild wind screeching about the chimneys, and the rain beating so insistently against the shutters.
Spring is coming,” Adair answered him.
“It must be,” he agreed. “I feel my lust rising like the sap in a tree.”
She giggled. “You want to fuck,” she said.
“Aye, I want to fuck,” he admitted. His hand slipped beneath her nightgown and moved slowly up her legs.
When they parted for him, his fingers stroked the softness of her inner thigh before moving to her mons.
“Your touch is always so gentle,” she told him.
“I want to be tender with you, Adair,” he said.
“Why?” she demanded to know.
“Because I care for you,” he answered. His hands moved from her lower extremities up her torso.
“Wait,” she said, and, sitting up, she pulled her nightgown off. Then, taking his face between her hands, she drew him to her breasts. “Isn’t this what you want?” she asked him low.
“Among other things, lovey,” he told her, licking a nipple and laying her back down. “I want everything you have to give me, Adair. All of you!”
“Why?” she persisted.
“I think I may be coming to love you,” he answered her. “Would such a thing be displeasing to you, Adair?”
He looked down into her face.
She felt her cheeks grow warm with his surprising admission. “Nay,” she said. “It would not displease me, Andrew,” she whispered. “I would like it if I had your heart.”
“Do I have yours?” he wanted to know.
“Aye, you do,” she replied, and realized as she said it that it was true. In a quiet way she had finally come to love him, if loving meant being happy and content in his arms, for she had been from the first night. What more was there to love? She had been a little fool, Adair thought, and then his lips met hers in a sweet kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth, and she echoed his words back to him even as he pushed himself into her body.
“Oh Andrew!” She sighed. She loved the feel of his hard length filling her.
“Oh, lovey,” he groaned into her hair.
