A Love For All Seasons

by Denise Domning

  "Papa," she cried again, her voice tiny as she faced her father's death.

  As he looked upon her, color returned to his cheeks and new life sparked in his eyes. He smiled, the movement of his mouth so familiar, yet so changed by his illness, it brought her to her knees. Lifting his hand, he clasped her fingers in a warm, tight grip.

  Johanna's gaze caught and clung to his inner arm. One of the many moles that had ever dotted his skin had grown. Once the size of a pea, this one was now twice that and misshapen, the color a malevolent shade of black. "Papa," she cried again as she pressed his hand against her cheek. Oh, but she could feel his bones through his flesh. Tears tumbled from her eyes as her heart broke then broke again. How could he be so ill, so soon? True, at Eastertide, he'd complained of feeling unusually tired, barely managing to walk from the stables to the hall without needing to rest. He'd blamed his exhaustion on too much work and vowed to let Katel, Rob, and Arthur do more.

  "Hey now, poppet," he crooned to her in that awful voice of his, "do not mourn me yet. I will be here for some time to come. How can I leave this world before I see you wed and dandle my firstborn grandchild upon my knee?" It was a falsehood. Although he wished what he said were true he didn't believe it; she could see it in his eyes.

  "Aye, Papa," she lied in return, wanting as desperately as he to believe.

  "I am glad to have you home," he said, his eyelids drooping as he spoke, exhausted by even this much speech.

  "You should have called for me sooner," she chided softly.

  "What, to have you watch me lie abed? There's Helewise to do that," he retorted with a sigh. "You're too young to be trapped at an old man's bedside." His voice trailed off as his eyes closed and he drifted into slumber.

  The silence that followed his words was awful and deep. Johanna loosed another tiny sob. She released his hand, gently laying his arm down atop his blanketed chest.

  "He was holding himself awake in anticipation of your arrival," Master Colin said softly. "Take heart, lass. He is not always this tired. Although he can no longer rise, most days his mind is active and alert."

  Johanna shifted on her knees to look up at Helewise, her gaze pleading for the woman to tell her what she saw with her own eyes was not true. Helewise only spread her arms in invitation. Already sobbing in grief, Johanna threw herself into the embrace.

  "Hush sweetling," the housekeeper bid her, rocking her gently in her arms. "You must not let him see you so distraught. Be strong for him as he passes from this vale into the next."

  Her words tore through Johanna. "Nay," she cried out in anger, pushing free of the woman's arms. She stumbled to her feet. "He is not going to die. He cannot die; I will not let him go!" With that, she turned and raced from the house, not caring where she went.

  Rob, dressed in just his chausses and shoes, his tunic and shirt hanging off a peg in the warehouse's wall, swept half-heartedly at the cobwebs that dotted the big building. It was busywork, meant to keep him away from the spice merchant's house for the day. He did not care to be there when Johanna returned.

  In order to see what he did, he'd thrown open the warehouse's waterside door. As the day's muted light flowed into the building it brought with it the gentle lap of the river against its bank. Just beyond the door the willows rustled in the same breeze that brought him the sweet smell of a gentle, summer mist. The mill was still for the moment. Against its silence he could hear the warble and cheep of the smaller birds, their calls cheery in the general dullness of the day.

  As always, the sylvan sounds eased what ached in him. Rob sighed and forgave himself his cowardice. This cleaning wasn't all busywork. The warehouse did need to be prepared for what would soon be coming his way.

  Both Katel—Master Katel now—and Arthur, accompanied by Aleric, had departed some weeks ago as two separate parties, each with a different route to travel. At their backs were whole pack trains, the baskets on their beasts filled with the spices and those blends for which Master Walter was now renowned. Although both parties ultimate purpose was to reach London to replenish Master Walter's stores from the wholesale spice merchants, they would take their time as they journeyed, moving from fair to fair, from manor house to abbey, trading all the way. While some of what they took with them would be sold for coin, the remainder would be exchanged for goods. Of those goods, they kept what could be carried on a packhorse's back to the next stop, against the possibility of selling it there. What was too large, or was replaced by something more saleable, they sent back to Stanrudde. Once it was here, it needed to be assessed for value and a buyer found.

  It was in the doing of this that Rob had found his talent. He never forgot what it was that this merchant or that said he needed. Some of his trades grew to great complexity, as wood went to one, who gave wool in return, which went to another in trade for fulled cloth, and so on. Each man got what he wanted, while Master Walter took a profit off every trade.

  Sadness hit in a slow-moving wave. This would be his last summer to turn trades for Master Walter. Yesterday, after two months of growing steadily weaker, his master had finally relented and called for his daughter to return from her convent school. This meant the spice merchant no longer believed he would recover.

  Rob's sadness grew. Once again, he was losing both home and family. When Master Walter was gone, Katel would be the master here. Rob had no doubt he'd swiftly find himself upon the street, fortunate if Katel left him his shirt upon his back.

  From beneath the sadness came a sharp thrust of pain. Helewise had begun planning Johanna's wedding. Rob leaned heavily upon his broom, fighting the anger that followed pain. Johanna shouldn't have to marry that whoreson. Katel would never honor her the way a man should his wife.

  Only then did Rob realize where his wayward thoughts were once again leading him. Even as he chided himself for the wrong he did, he could not stop himself. It wasn't just his body that had betrayed him with Johanna, it was his heart. Against all that was right and proper, he loved his master's daughter.

  Nay, it was more than that. He needed her. From their earliest years he'd found such joy in sharing his triumphs with Johanna. More than even Master Colin, Johanna took great pride in his accomplishments. It was her praise and excitement over his achievements that kept him strong against Katel's constant, secret belittling.

  He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain outstripped his sadness. Johanna, and how she made him special in her life, was more precious to him than any riches he could imagine. Although he might survive the loss of his trade and his master, the thought of losing her was tearing him in two.

  From beyond the warehouse's wall he caught the sound of someone running. Whoever it was stopped along the river's edge. Rob frowned. Any other day he wouldn't have minded sharing this place with another. Just now, he craved complete privacy in which to cherish his mournful thoughts.

  Not bothering to don either shirt or tunic, he set the broom into the corner and turned to the threshold of the water door. Here the river's bank was cut away to allow those barges bearing goods for Master Walter to dock before the opening. Water lapped at the warehouse's foundation, murky and swirling against the current.

  He leapt from the threshold to the bank, landing upon the same spot that Johanna had once named hers. Gone was the shallow hole that had served them as a private place in those earlier years. The willows now owned it, their roots having spread across the surface to pry at the warehouse's foundation.

  The memory of the first time he and Johanna came here rolled over him. It had been to protect him that she'd kicked that regrater. This almost made him smile; then the sadness returned. She'd protect him no longer, nor he her.

  He kicked once at the twisted and woody ground then eased around the gnarled trunks. Crossing the bank, his footsteps absorbed by its thick carpet of moss, he peered through the cascading willow branches at the river's edge. There was a flash of blue beyond the waterfall of green and gold.

  "Whoever you are, be gone with you," h
e called out. "This stretch belongs to Master Walter, and you may not trespass."

  Rather than depart, there was a rustling in the foliage. Johanna pushed through the thick layer of branches. He stared at her in shock and not a little horror. For the first time in three years, she'd left her father's house without an escort. They were alone.

  For months, ever since Mistress Katherine's funeral feast, he'd avoided being alone with Johanna. That did not mean he'd escaped her. Nay, not at all. She, and the wondrous feeling of her in his arms, haunted his dreams. Mornings found his shaft hard and aching for her.

  As she stepped into the inner reaches of the trees, she let the branches fall behind her, concealing them from the outer world. The persistent mist left dark spots on her pale blue gowns, the damp silk clinging here and there to the slender line of her body. Loosened by her run, careless tendrils of bright golden-red hair escaped her plait to curl around her face and shoulders.

  "What are you doing here?" he cried out, taking a backward step as he considered the valor of racing back into the warehouse and barring the door on her.

  "Oh, Rob," she cried, her voice tiny with pain.

  Worry against his reaction to her died. Seven years had passed, but he still remembered the despair of finding himself orphaned. "You have seen your father," he said softly.

  She took a step toward him. Rob caught his breath. Sorrow made the lines of her face seem all the more delicate. Her mouth softened as her lips trembled. Tears shimmered in her eyes until they were bluer than blue.

  "No one told me," she breathed, then bit her bottom lip to still its quiver. When she was successful, she continued. "Why did none of you tell me?" Anger's edge touched her voice.

  "He would not let us," he said. "He was certain he would recover and did not wish to worry you."

  If tears yet trembled in her eyes, bright pink spots took sudden life in her pale cheeks, making her freckles stand out in sharp relief. "I thought you were my friend," she shouted as her fists clenched. "You should have told me! How could you leave me in ignorance?"

  "Johanna, he bid me to silence," he tried to explain, but she threw herself at him, slamming a fist against his bare chest.

  Rob cried out, not so much hurt as surprised at her attack. He caught her by the wrist. "Johanna," he protested. Her retort was to send her other fist crashing into his shoulder. This time it did hurt.

  "Cease I say," he snapped at her, grabbing her other wrist. Holding her hands captive, he glared down at her. "I told you he bid me say nothing. I will not defy your father, not even to please you."

  She said nothing, only tried to wrench free of his grasp. He tightened his grip, determined to hold her until she calmed. As they fought in silence the sky above them opened. Not even thickly knit willow branches could stop what swiftly became a steady, soaking rain.

  The moisture was cold against his skin. It filled her gowns, until they lay plastered to her body. Still, she fought him, writhing and pulling, not to escape him, but to lay yet more blows. Aye, she was strong, but he was by far the stronger. Once again, Rob tightened his grip on her wrists in the demand that she recognize this.

  "Cease," he warned. "I will not let you go, not until you give me your word you'll strike me no longer."

  At this, she drew a deep and ragged breath. And kicked him. Hard.

  He yelped against the bruising blow. "The devil take you," he shouted, giving her a sharp shake. "You will cease!"

  She chose that moment to strain back from him with all her might. In the next instant she was falling, pulling him down with her. Thinking to catch himself, he released her arms, but not soon enough. Johanna gasped as she hit the mossy earth, then again as he fell atop her.

  The rain beat down on his back. Digging his fingers into the vibrant green of the moss, Rob pushed himself up on his hands and knees over her. "Have you gone mad!" he shouted, angry at her for both hurting him and making him hurt her.

  She made a small and helpless sound. Rob stared down at her. Hair, turning the color of honey as it dampened, trailed in wet strands across her face. Her mouth trembled. The expression in her eyes was so lost and alone, his anger died.

  "Oh Rob, I am so afraid," she breathed, her hands coming to rest on his bare chest. Sobbing, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her.

  Every muscle in Rob's body tensed to leap up from her, he swore it was so. Save that his legs slid against the wet moss. As he settled atop her his thighs parted, his hips coming to rest neatly against hers. With naught but thin, wet silk between her and him, he could feel her breasts against his chest. This woke his shaft, sending fire, hot beyond all toleration, raging through him. Without thinking what he did, he relaxed until he lay full atop her, the way a man laid atop the woman he meant to love. As had happened before, she fit against him as if they were created one for the other. Desire went soaring beyond his ability to ever catch it back.

  She shuddered beneath him, and her movement sent a matching thrill of passion through him. Her hold around his neck eased as she caught back a sob. Bracing his forearms at either side of her shoulders, he lifted himself slightly to look down into her face. Tears yet filled her eyes, but the color in her cheeks held new heat. There was no fear in her eyes as she looked up at him, only wonder. She lifted a hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips.

  The touch of her flesh to his made him catch his breath. As she echoed his quiet gasp, her breasts moved against his chest. The heat within his belly went to boiling.

  She moved her fingers across his face, tracing the line of his cheek. Her lips parted as she did so, as if the very feel of his skin were making her melt. Catching a strand of his hair, she pressed it into a damp curl against his cheek then let her finger follow the line of his jaw.

  When he could bear her touch no longer, he lowered his head and rested his mouth on hers. Her lips yielded to his then her whole body softened beneath him. In the next instant, she cradled him against her.

  Feeling tumbled atop feeling. Rob forgot the rain that chilled his skin. He forgot that this was the one woman he mustn't touch. All that mattered was that she was his.

  Reaching down, he caught a fistful of her gowns and pulled. She lifted her hips to aid him. Not only did her gowns move upward, but her motion sent yet another wave of passion through him.

  She tore her mouth free of his. "Wait," she breathed.

  Rob growled in refusal, kissing at her neck, then her ear. He eased downward, lowering his head until he caught the tip of one breast in his mouth, sucking at it despite the wet silk that lay in his path. She cried out in pleasure and arched beneath him.

  Again, he reached down for her gowns. This time, his hand met the bare flesh of her thigh. Her skin was smooth and soft beneath his palm. It was beyond his ability to stop himself. His hand slid upward along her leg toward her nether lips.

  She trembled beneath him at this caress, breathing in sharp small gasps. When he rubbed his finger against the most private of her places, she cried out in wonder and lifted her hips. "Again," she begged softly. "Touch me again."

  Her words made his shaft strain at the harsh wool that contained it. Easing back to kneel atop her thighs he did as she commanded. She panted against the caress, her hips moving in glorious mimicry of lovemaking. Each motion sent the heat in him raging ever higher.

  He slid his finger into her. She threw back her head and cried out in delight. In wonder, he caressed her in this way, letting her movements and cries drive his own need for her almost beyond bearing. When he could tolerate it no longer he eased to the side. Tearing at the waist string of his chausses, he shucked the garment, shoes and all. Ah, but it wasn't enough that he was bare. The need to see all of her made him strip off the belt that bound her garments to her waist. As he reached for her hems, meaning to remove her gowns she sat up, lifting her arms to aid him.

  It was in appreciation that Rob stared at her when she was bare, her forgotten garments slipping from his hands. The rain gleam
ed against her white skin, laying a glistening trail of moisture through the valley between her breasts. It caught in glittering droplets on the golden hair that curled over her nether lips. Reaching out, he cupped the fullness of her breasts in his palms then moved his thumbs against their soft pink peaks.

  Shivering, she shifted and leaned toward him, resting her forehead against his shoulder as she laid her hands against his chest. He caught his breath and closed his eyes when she turned her head to press her mouth against his throat. Her palms slid against his wet skin and she drew her hands steadily lower, her mouth traced a heated line up his neck. When she nuzzled at a place just below his ear, her fingers dropped lower still until she explored the hard length of his shaft.

  It was Rob's turn to tremble. He was panting and nigh on blind with sensation when he finally caught her by the wrists to make her cease. She looked up at him in question.

  Pressing his mouth to hers, he again straddled her hips, then eased her backward, her wrists yet held tightly in his hands. When she once more lay beneath him he stretched out full-length atop her. Again, her body softened beneath him, their two forms melding in preparation for becoming one.

  His mouth took hers, his kiss scalding in its demand that she release possession of herself to him. She moaned beneath his onslaught and yielded, her thighs parting. His shaft entered her and found the barrier of her maidenhead.

  The shock of resistance, one with which he had no experience, made him tear his mouth from hers. Freeing her wrists, he began to push away from her. Johanna cried softly and caught her arms around his neck. Recapturing his mouth with her own, she moved against his shaft in invitation.