“You must not judge him as you would an ordinary mortal, my dear girl. He is not an ordinary mortal. While he may possess a certain sadness in his character, he is not truly sad. He has what he has always wanted. He is king of England. If Arthur had not so conveniently died, Henry Tudor would have gone out and conquered another land for himself. He has always desired to be a king. And kings often marry princesses who may be very suitable, but are not particularly loving in nature.”
“There is a vulnerability in him, Tom. I am but two years his senior, and yet I feel as if I am centuries older than him. Last night he stormed me like a man taking a castle, but when I had gotten past the shock of it, I realized that all he wanted from me was to love him.”
“Be careful, my dearest girl,” Lord Cambridge warned her. “You are beginning to sound like a woman who could fall in love. You are vulnerable, too, Rosamund. Your husband is not gone a year, and your whole life there has been a man to take care of you. This man, however, is a king. He cannot take care of you because he hasn’t the faintest idea of how to take care of anyone, even himself. Give him your body, but do not give him your heart.”
She sighed again, a deep sound of resignation. “I know you are right, Tom. I must keep my own emotions under firm control.” She lay her head on his shoulder. “You are my shield and my buckler, cousin. You will defend me against the dragon.”
“Dragons,” he drawled, “absolutely terrify me, dearest girl, and especially the Tudor Pendragon of Wales. So he is vigorous, eh? I am not certain that I am jealous of you, cousin. Is hebigall over?”
She raised her head from his shoulder, her amber eyes twinkling and filled with mischief. Then she nodded silently.
“Ah, me,” he said. “Some of us are luckier than others!”
“You are terrible,” she replied, rising from the window seat. “And I am going to bed while I may get some sleep.” She kissed his smooth cheek. “Good night, dearest cousin,” she told him, and left the hall. Upstairs in her apartment she undressed, bathed her face and hands, and brushed her teeth. She peed in the china pot Annie brought her, and then climbed into her bed naked. “I might as well,” she told the surprised Annie.
“Who is he?” Annie whispered.
Rosamund shook her head. “I will tell you one day, but not today,” she said. “You must be satisfied with that, Annie. It is better that you do not know for now. Will you trust me?”
“I always have,” Annie said. Then she curtsied. “Good night, m’lady.” The door closed behind her as she departed.
There was still a bit of twilight in the sky beyond her windows. Rosamund listened to the songs of some bird not quite ready to relinquish the day. Her eyes grew heavy, and she slipped into a deep sleep. It was past midnight when she awakened at the sound of her door clicking open. She lay silent until she felt his weight upon the bed, followed by his kiss on her lips.
“I could hardly bear to leave you this morning, fair Rosamund,” the king told her. “I saw you in the hall tonight, and the mere sight of you set my loins aflame, my darling!” He yanked his nightshirt off and slipped beneath the coverlet she held open for him.
She enfolded him in her arms, and his leonine head lay on her breasts. “You must think of me as your refuge, my lord,” she told him sweetly. “Did you hunt today? I did not see you until this evening.”
“I visited my shipyards at Gravesend,” he told her. “I want to build a fleet. England must be a strong sea power, fair Rosamund.”
“Why?” she queried him. “Can we not use the ships of others to transport our goods? We do now.”
“I don’t mean a merchant fleet, sweetheart,” he explained. “I mean a war fleet. We are isolated on our island, and susceptible to attack by our enemies. We need a strong fleet to protect our country.”
“I am far enough from the sea in my Cumbria that I do not think of things like that, Hal.” Her fingers caressed the back of his neck. “A king must be very wise and foresighted, I can see.”
“You must be foresighted in order to keep your Friarsgate safe and profitable. I am told by your cousin that you are the guiding force on your manor. Is that so, fair Rosamund?” He nuzzled at her breast, his tongue slowly licking at a nipple.
She shivered with pleasure, and then said, “I have always relied on the advice of my uncles, but for one—and my husbands. But in the end the decisions are mine alone, Hal, for I am the lady of Friarsgate, and none can speak for me. I must seem forward to you, I know. But that is who I am.” She kneaded his nape now.
“I like women who know their place in this world,” he said. “But I do not like stupid women. While you are the voice of authority on your manor, sweet Rosamund, you are wise enough to listen to the good advice given you by your menfolk. Do you have a priest?”
“Father Mata,” she said, wondering what that young man would think of her current situation. “He is a great comfort to me and to our people, my lord. We could not do without him.”
“My grandmother was like you,” he said. “The Venerable Margaret, but God’s nightshirt, she frightened me to death!” And he laughed.
“She was a great woman, my lord, and I learned much from her while I was in her care.”
Suddenly he raised his big head and looked at her. Rosamund blushed and lowered her eyes, knowing he did not like a direct stare, but the king said, “No, fair Rosamund. You may look at me, for I love to see your eyes filling with passion when I make love to you.” He threw back the coverlet and let his eyes roam over her naked form. His big hand covered her mons, and he said, “You do not pluck?”
“Nay, my lord, it is not a country custom. If it displeases you, however, I shall do so,” she told him.
His thick fingers entwined themselves in her full auburn bush. “Nay, I quite like it. There is something tempting and seductive about it. Nay! I forbid you to pluck.” He lowered his head and kissed her Venus mont, eliciting a fierce shudder from Rosamund who had never been approached in such a manner. When he rubbed his face against her there, she began to tremble. He could not help himself, for she was so alluring, the white heather she wore mixing with her natural female scent. His fingers began to tease at her nether lips, and finding them already pearled with her love dew, he taunted her further. “You are a very naughty lass, fair Rosamund.” His head moved up so that he might whisper in her ear. He licked the sweetly curled flesh, pushing his tongue into its narrow passage even as his fingers pushed past her nether lips and found her love button.
Her senses were very acute. She could feel the fleshy ball of a single finger begin to graze and chafe the sentient kernel of flesh by means of both pressure and friction. Just one finger that fretted her until she thought she would die of the incredible sensations filling her. His lips touched hers. Then his tongue slid over her mouth, licking at it, licking at her face. She moaned, and the sound was one of pure delight to his ears. Suddenly he ceased the wonderful torture and instead thrust two of his thick fingers into her love channel.“No, no,”she pleaded with him. “I want more! Please, more!”
Laughing softly, he withdrew the fingers, and covering her slender body with his big one, he pushed himself slowly into her, stopping and looking down into her face. “Did you not get enough last night, my fair Rosamund? Will you drain me again and again and yet again this night as well?” He began to pump her with slow majestic strokes of his manhood. Soon they were both crying out with their shared pleasure. It was almost dawn when the king realized that if he did not return across the park to the palace he might be seen and his secret revealed.
Rising, he pulled on his nightshirt and his brocaded robe. He bent and placed a kiss upon her lips. “If you see me today, my fair Rosamund, you will think of this night past. I cannot come tonight, however, but soon, my darling.Soon!”
