“My lady was betrothed to another lord's son as a business transaction to help her financially failing father. My lord beat her, trying to cause her to miscarry so he could still enter the transaction with his associate. When I learned of her mistreatment, I broke her free and stole her away. I will not rest until we are safe across the border, and she is my wife.”
The innkeeper leered at Matthew suspiciously before turning back to the row of keys. He pulled another one from a hook and scooped five of the coins into his hand. He handed them to Matthew. “Last room on the right. My best room,” the older man announced.
Matthew nodded his thanks then nudged Cassandra towards the narrow flight of stairs. He helped her ascend them, leading her down the dark, musty hallway to their room. He unlocked the door and motioned her in.
“Where did you find that story?” she asked dumbfounded.
“In my imagination.” He urged her to sit on the rickety bed. Then, he then knelt before her on the dusty floor and slipped her silk slippers from her feet. “It is no more fanciful than the truth.”
Matthew stood and wandered to the makeshift table that was centered in the corner between the door and the window. He set his dagger and book on it then emptied the bag of coins into his hand. He looked up to Cassandra after he counted the silver and bronze pieces. “I have been thinking of our situation,” Matthew began wistfully. “Do you know how to sew?”
“Of course,” Cassandra answered.
Matthew smiled at her proudly. “Of course. I should have known that. When we reach wherever we are going, I am going to buy a tent to live in temporarily until we can afford a cottage, some cloth for you to make clothes, food, and items for the baby. I want to purchase a few head of sheep with whatever is left over.”
Cassandra blinked at him doubtfully. “You are going to become a shepherd?”
“Yes. Why not? I am good with animals.”
Cassandra stood and swept to his side. “Matthew, please. You have to go home. Your people need you.”
“Who? Like that disgusting innkeeper?” he challenged.
“Yes.”
Matthew stared into Cassandra’s eyes. “And you?”
“I will return to my grandfather.”
He looked away from her. “Why do you not love me?”
Cassandra turned Matthew’s face towards hers. “I do love you, more than I can say. But I do not want to shame you any longer. I am an embarrassment to you. You are the king. You are a great man. You deserve to marry a great woman.”
Matthew grasped her arms in his hands. “I am trying to marry a great woman. But she spurns me every time I approach her.” She drew her face away from him as he released her. Matthew continued, “So, if I were a shepherd or a stable boy or a farmer, you would marry me?”
“Yes, in a heartbeat,” Cassandra breathed weakly.
“But since I am the king, you will not?”
She sighed. “Why do you not understand? Fate has chosen you to be king and your duty as king is to marry a queen.”
Matthew glared at her. “Do not tell me my fate, my lady. My fate belongs to me. It is my fate. And my fate intertwined with yours when our son was conceived in your womb. Our fate is joined together and will wrap around our son's when he is born. And my fate is not to be king. It is to love you. Where you go, I will be. You are all I have wanted all my life. Now that I have you, I will not let you go.”
Cassandra gazed into Matthew’s eyes, seeing his strong will in the smoky dark orbs. She exhaled heavily as he reached out his hand. “Let us go to bed.”
Turning away from him, she unlaced her bodice and carefully lifted her gown over her head. She laid it gently over a fragile chair before making her way back to the bed. She watched as Matthew sat down on the mattress and tugged each boot off gently. He stretched out over the sheets.
Cassandra sat next to him. “You are sleeping in your clothes?”
Matthew gathered her to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He pulled the flimsy cover over them then slid his arms tight around her as he caressed her body beneath the cotton dressing gown.
“I do not wish to mar our wedding bed more than I already have. The next time I hold your body to mine like that, I want to be your husband. But I know how uncomfortable it must be for you just to exist. I want you to be as comfortable as possible as you sleep. So, to deter me from succumbing to temptation, I am going to remain dressed.”
Matthew touched Cassandra’s face as he softly parted her lips with his. He dipped his tongue inside to taste the honey she possessed. After a moment of the sweet caress, he pulled away. “Good night, my love,” he whispered.
“Good night, my lord.”
Cassandra rested her head on Matthew’s shoulder, unable to sleep. She listened to his thundering heart as his breath slowed in slumber. She could not think. His words pounded in her brain, shutting down every protest she had ever had. She held him tighter in her arms, burying her face in his shirt.
After a few moments, she glanced up at his face. He slept peacefully. A small smile bloomed as he dreamt contentedly. She watched his reaction to his dream then pressed her fingers to the side of his face, closing her eyes.
Cassandra found herself next to a beautiful cottage perched high among the rolling hills. Matthew sat against a tree, gazing over the hills as he gently guarded something in his arms. A few feet ahead of him, a small boy with raven black hair played happily with a pair of lambs. Around them, the hills were dotted with sheep grazing on the lush, green grass.
With all the wonderful things around him, the source of Matthew's love and constant attention was whatever he held against him. Cassandra tiptoed across the dirt, her mind wandering. What does he hold? Is it a sheep, a babe? She peeked over his shoulder to see.
Cassandra pulled her hand away from his sleeping, smiling face, astounded at her discovery. She gazed at him as she whispered, “He dreams of me.”
* * * *
Cassandra hugged her pillow tightly as the morning sunlight invaded her brain. She opened her eyes, finding herself alone in the small, damp room. She sat up, panic running through her veins as she searched for any signs of Matthew. She released a sigh of relief as she caught sight of the dagger and book still on the table.
Lying back against the pillows, she sorted the information that flooded her mind. Matthew loved her. He had made that clear. She loved him also. She knew that without a doubt. Why then am I protesting him and holding so tight to tradition? Why am I putting what is best for the kingdom of Savon before my greatest wish?
Cassandra closed her eyes, losing herself in the memories of Matthew's dream. She let her imagination run wild as she envisioned his fantasy—making his supper, rubbing his bare, tired shoulders after a long day in the field, holding his body close as he slept.
She opened her eyes, her heart yearning for him. Suddenly, the vows she had made as a child, the vows she had held dear all her life, meant nothing. She needed him both now and forever.
Cassandra sat up as the door opened. She pressed her hands to her mouth to stop the giggles that escaped through her lips as Matthew stumbled into the room, his arms filled with a variety of food for breakfast. She gazed at him affectionately as the king of Savon—the greatest man in the kingdom—unexpectedly became a bumbling husband going to any lengths to please her.
Rising to her feet, she rushed to his side to take a pitcher and a loaf of bread to lighten his load. Together they emptied his arms. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her rounded waist.
“We should eat soon. I would like to start early. I thought we could find a friar in the next village we come to. I cannot go another night without you as my wife. The temptation is too great. That is,” Matthew brushed a stray lock from her face, “If you want to be my wife.”
Cassandra gazed into his eyes, finding a glimmer of hope still there. She smiled lustily at him. “Yes my lord, my lover. I do want to marry you.”
He looked at her, clearly
astonished. “Truthfully?”
“Yes, I thought about what you said. I love you. I want to be your wife.”
Matthew drew Cassandra to him, placing conquering kisses on her lips. She weaved her fingers in his hair, surrendering to him and tasting the bliss that would forever be hers. Finally, she tore herself away. “If you want to find that friar, Matthew, we should prepare to go.”
“Aye, my love. Sit on the bed, and I will serve you.”
Cassandra swept from his embrace and perched on the frame, looking over the items he had bought. She pointed to a basket of strawberry tarts then sat back against the pillows. He brought it to her then sat down to eat a piece of bread himself. After a quick breakfast, he gathered the food together as she rose to dress.
Glancing at him, she asked, “What are you going to do with the food?”
“Leave it for the innkeeper. He can throw it out or feast on it. I do not care.” Matthew pulled her to him, breathing in her ear, “My wife. Soon you will be my wife.”
Cassandra laughed as she felt her heart race. Matthew let her go, handing her the gown. She pulled it over her head and began to lace the bodice.
The noise of marching feet from the street below flooded the small room. Cassandra watched as Matthew closed the shutters on the windows, a subtle look of fear crossing his brow as he looked out between the slats.
“Gorgon?” Cassandra whispered.
“No. Otto.”
Cassandra crept to Matthew’s side quietly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she peered over them. She watched as the royal troops dispersed throughout the village. Gasping, she clasped him tighter as she watched the soldiers pull chains and shackles from a cart.
“Otto will let us go,” Matthew muttered uneasily. “He is a good man. He would understand.”
Cassandra watched the hope in Matthew’s eyes fade as he continued observing. She hugged him tighter. “Matthew, you need to go back. Willingly.” She cringed at the thought of the heavy iron restraints clamped to his ankles.
“And you will go back to your grandfather, correct?” he quipped angrily.
“No, I will return with you. What you said truly touched me. No one has ever loved me as you have—not to give up everything he has ever known for me. I want to be your wife.” Matthew turned towards her, shock appearing across his face. Cassandra continued, “If you will have me.”
Matthew held Cassandra close to him, burying his face against her hair. “Yes, Cassa. Yes, I will have you.”
Cassandra smothered herself in Matthew’s embrace for several moments. Then finally, she finally looked up to him. “Then let us go. We have a wedding to plan and a baby to prepare for,” she murmured. “Please take me home.”
Chapter Eleven
Matthew held Cassandra’s hand tight in his as he led her down the narrow staircase. He stopped short as he caught sight of Otto. Otto stood at the wooden counter of the inn, tapping his foot impatiently. The innkeeper thudded out of a side room, smiling toothlessly as he eyed the coat of arms embroidered on Otto's jacket. Matthew pressed his finger to his lips to motion Cassandra to be quiet as they listened.
“A room, my lord?” the innkeeper questioned.
“No, I am looking for a woman,” Otto replied.
“Well, my lord. I do not really deal in that sort of business but I can find one for you. It will cost you.”
Otto sighed angrily. “A specific woman - about chest high to me. She has long brown hair, hazel eyes, clothed in a silk gown. She is great with child. A gentleman may accompany her. Have you seen her?”
“What is it worth to his lordship?” the innkeeper inquired with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Pardon me?” Otto demanded. The pitch in his voice indicated that his patience was wearing thin.
“Never mind. We can discuss it later. What does the gentleman look like?”
Otto glared at him. “He is the king of Savon.”
“King Matthew? I have never seen him but I can assure you they have not come here. I have a young couple here, but he can positively not be…”
“Otto.”
Otto spun around to find Matthew descending the steps, protectively leading Cassandra behind him.
“Matthew. Lady Cassandra.” Otto bowed as his gaze caught Cassandra’s. He rose then continued.
“Matthew, what were you thinking? You stopped Joseph's heart. You stopped mine, frankly. What if Gorgon found you?”
Matthew glared at him with cold, hard determination. “I am marrying her, Otto. Either you can support me or let us go so we can be together.”
Otto looked at Cassandra as she hid behind her lover. “I have told you my feelings, Matthew. If I have to put you both in a carriage and take you to the friar myself I will. I believe in this union. So does everyone but Joseph. He sent me to return only with you. But I know better than to cross Cook. Please go back with me, and we will work it out. I have brought a carriage to make my lady's journey as comfortable as possible, and I have brought your steed also.”
Matthew looked at him for a moment then smiled appreciatively at his friend. “Thank you.” He turned and took Cassandra's hands. “Are you ready?”
Cassandra nodded in agreement. Matthew pressed his lips to hers softly. “Let's go home.”
Matthew took her hand, looking over to the innkeeper. He strode to the counter and slapped ten silver coins against the wood. “It was a fine room.”
The innkeeper stared at him dumbfounded then dropped to his knees. “Your majesty.”
Matthew laughed as he kissed Cassandra's hand. “Let us go, my love.”
Matthew helped Cassandra into the carriage, settling her into the seat with a kiss. He quickly mounted his steed and rode with Otto in the lead of the procession. It took most of the day to reach the palace.
The procession entered the courtyard, pulling to a stop in front of the large entrance doors. Matthew dismounted from his horse then strode proudly to the carriage, taking Cassandra's hand and helping her step out into the spring afternoon. He swept up the stairs through the heavy doors, tugging his riding gloves from his hands in a determination and confidence he had never before experienced.
Joseph stood in the center of the entrance hall, his arms crossed over his chest in seething anger. “Where have you been?” he spat.
“Soul searching,” Matthew replied nonchalantly.
“I know where you went.”
Matthew scowled at Joseph, his patience slipping away. “Why did you ask then?”
Joseph reached into his coat, his fingers tugging a scroll from inside his pocket. He handed it to Matthew. “Sign it.” Joseph glanced up to the throng that flocked into the hall. His eyes locked coldly on Cassandra. “It is best for everyone involved.”
Matthew opened it, scanning the heading. “It is a marital contract.” He read further in silence then lifted his head, glaring at Joseph. “Between myself and Stephana.”
Joseph met his stare. “I have a messenger ready to ride. Just sign your name, and I will seal it. Then he will travel to Azgone to deliver it to Stephana's father.”
Matthew lifted the document, grasping it in both hands. He tore it apart then gripped it again and ripped it in two once more. Letting the pieces fall to his feet, he walked past Joseph. “Issac!” he shouted to summon a courtier. The boy dropped to his knee before him. Matthew continued, “Go find the bishop. Tell him I need to speak to him as soon as he is available.”
Issac spun on his toe and ran off. “Where is my father's trunk?” Matthew demanded from Joseph.
“Excuse me?”
“My father's trunk.” Matthew strode back to him, slapping his gloves into the palm of his free hand. “I searched his personal things in my room, and what I was looking for was not there. He was not buried with them. I can only guess they are in his trunk. So where is it?”
“The cellar, I believe,” Joseph answered quietly appearing shocked by Matthew's cool assertiveness.
“Fine.” Matth
ew exhaled as his glance wandered into the far corner of the room. He smiled warmly at Cook as she fanned herself with her handkerchief, flushed red. Matthew crossed the room to Cassandra and took her hand gently in his. He pressed it against his cheek.
“Cook,” Matthew directed softly to the plump, gray haired woman, “Please prepare her a bath. She has journeyed long for two days. Please make sure she refreshes herself and relaxes.”
“Of course, your majesty.”
Matthew kissed Cassandra's hand, smiling at her look of silent astonishment. He backed away then turned toward the chapel.
“Matthew, do you have any idea what you are doing?” Joseph demanded.
Matthew spun at him. “Yes. I am marrying the woman I love,” he seethed. “I am giving my son a legitimate birth.”
“And your people, Matthew? What about them?”
“You tell me who is better for them, Joseph—a cold hearted princess who is only interested in bedding a king, or the woman who has already saved them from starvation? Who would you choose, if in their place?”
Joseph scowled at him silently. Matthew turned back toward the chapel. “Otto, you are with me.” He strode off down the hall with his commander at his side.
* * * *
Cassandra looked out from the library window into the night sky. She was content to feel the silk of her crème nightdress against her skin. She ran her fingers down the gold embroidery of the robe that covered her gown then clasped her mug of cider. She did not care what anyone thought of what she wore. Nearly the entire palace had gone to bed. She needed a few moments and a drink before she turned in also.
She did not move as she heard the door open and close. She felt a large hand take the cup from hers then a pair of strong arms wrap tightly around her. A voice breathed deep into her ear, “What a beautiful vision in the moonlight. I almost mistook you for an angel.”
Cassandra laughed as she rested against Matthew's chest.
He continued, “Had my plan carried out as I had hoped, we would be practicing our marriage vows in an inn along the Porvo border.”
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