She touched his cheek. And in her smile, he caught a glimpse of Heaven.
Epilogue
He came to her late, at twilight, when the moon was just beginning to rise. Rosamund was feeding their son when she heard the door open. As soon as Warrick entered their chamber, their daughter began to cry from her cradle. Warrick picked up the infant, soothing her as she sobbed against him.
‘Is Mary hungry?’ he asked. ‘She is trying to eat my shoulder.’
‘She is teething, just like her brother,’ Rosamund answered. Their son Stephen had slackened against her breast, milk dribbling from his mouth. She lifted him up to burp the infant, and after he did, she rose to lay him in his cradle.
She took Mary to her breast next, and her daughter latched on, nursing for comfort until exhaustion overcame her. Warrick sat behind her while she fed the baby, and she could feel the iron strength of his chest against her back. He kissed her neck, and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. Even after all this time, he held the power to arouse her with a single touch.
‘Call your maid to stay with the children,’ he murmured. ‘There is something I want to show you.’
‘Let me put the baby down,’ she murmured, rising from their bed. Then she opened the door and called out to her maid, ordering the young woman to watch over the babies.
Warrick held out a cloak to her and offered his arm. ‘Where are we going?’ Rosamund asked.
‘Wait and see.’ He led her down the hall and towards the stairs of thedonjon, until they were outside. She was surprised to find that he had already prepared a horse for them to share. Warrick helped her mount the animal and swung up behind her. Several of their people cast glances in their direction, and there seemed to be conspiratorial smiles.
‘Will we be gone for very long?’ she asked, risking a glance back at the castle.
He guided the horse to begin walking. ‘A few hours, no more.’ Then he led her through the gates and outside into the darkness.
The weather was warmer than she had imagined for a clear night in May, and the moon illuminated their path. In the distance, she saw lights flickering in the forest and could not tell what it was.
When they reached the edge of the woods, she caught her breath at the beauty. There were flower petals and greenery scattered along the path. And when Warrick drew her deeper into the forest, she saw thick candles buried in the ground, the soft light gleaming.
‘This reminds me of our wedding,’ she said quietly.
He tightened his grip around her waist, nuzzling her neck. ‘I hoped it would. And perhaps you would think of the first day we met in the forest.’
The candlelit path led towards a small stone dwelling with a wooden door. Smoke rose from a tiny chimney, and she had never before seen this place. ‘What is this, Warrick?’
Her husband dismounted and tethered the horse, lifting her down. ‘I had our men build it as a gift for you.’
Such a gift was far more costly than she’d ever imagined. ‘You went to a great deal of trouble for me.’ But she could not deny her excitement as she opened the door. Inside, a fire was lit in the stone hearth. There were candles set in sconces all around the room, and she saw her mother’s embroidery hanging upon a wall. In one corner, he had given her a table filled with dozens of coloured threads, lengths of linen, and a set of sharp needles.
Rosamund exclaimed at the sight of them, hugging her husband with such joy. ‘Warrick, this is wonderful!’
On the other side of the room, she saw a narrow bed and a wooden tub filled with steaming water. More flower petals were scattered upon the surface, and the thought of a hot bath was a craving she had not dared to imagine.
She realised then, that this was a place for the two of them, a retreat from the castle where they could steal away together.
‘Is the bath for you or for me?’ she asked softly. ‘Or both?’
‘I want to tend you,’ he said. His voice was husky with desire, and she was already aching for this man, needing his touch.
She let her cloak fall to the floor as he closed the door behind them. In this small space, she could smell the aroma of the flower petals. Slowly, she drew the laces of her gown, and Warrick watched her undress. His eyes were hungry upon her, and she peeled away the silk, revealing her body to him.
He helped her into the tub, and the water was blissfully hot. Though it was small, she drew her knees up and revelled in the heat. The flower petals grazed her skin, and Warrick picked up a cake of soap. He dipped his hands in the water and lathered it between his palms. ‘Shall I wash you?’
She leaned forward, her nipples tight with arousal as he soaped her back and drew his hand around to the curve of her breasts. A moan escaped her as he caressed her with his soapy hands.
‘Remove your clothing,’ she ordered him.
Warrick obeyed, and she saw his heavy erection as he removed his chausses and braies. She reached out to touch him with her wet hands, and he countered by taking her breast into his mouth. She shuddered at the delicious pleasure that coursed through her body. Her hands threaded through his dark hair, and she drew his mouth to hers, kissing him hard. His tongue slid into her mouth in a foreshadowing of what would come later.
Warrick dipped his hands beneath the water, down her stomach to her legs. Then he slid his palm between her thighs, stroking her intimately. She leaned her head back on the wooden tub, arching as he started a gentle rhythm.
