As her Father brushed past the majordomo, Keely gave a little squeal of joy and flew into his open arms. “Oh, Papa! I’ve missed you these past months.”
Duke Robert planted a kiss on her forehead, then led her back to the table and sat down opposite her. Smiling, he pulled an orange from his pocket and said, “For my grandchild.” Keely smiled and accepted the orange.
“How did you know I would visit this morning?” Duke Robert asked, noting the unused plate in front of him. “Or is this for Henry?”
“Henry never rises this early,” Keely answered, giving him an ambiguous smile. “We set a place for Richard at every meal in case—is he well? Do you have news?”
“You have the queen’s permission to visit your husband this afternoon,” the duke told her. Keely reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. Unshed tears glistened in her violet eyes. “Thank you, Papa. What made the queen change her mind?”
Duke Robert smiled. “Richard made several costly blunders with her personal finances. His letters of apology do fault his long separation from you as the reason for his unintentional carelessness.”
Keely smiled, dazzling her father with her joy. There existed no more beautiful sight in all the world than a happy pregnant woman.
“Burghley and I have been arguing in favor of house arrest,” the duke went on. “I’m positive your husband’s blunders will continue until he’s ensconced at Devereux House. At eleven o’clock, I will escort you downriver.”
Keely would have spoken then, but Henry barged into the study and drew their attention. With his head hung low, he looked like a bedraggled tomcat after carousing with an army of females.
“She was the best piece of arse I ever—” Henry broke off when he saw his father, his furious father.
“Daughter, excuse my crude words.” Duke Robert turned on his son and shouted, “Do you want that pecker of yours to fall off?”
“Do you want it to atrophy from disuse?” Henry shouted back, his three months of freedom inciting him to rebellion.
Keely burst out laughing.
“Do not encourage him,” Duke Robert said. Slowly, he rose from the table and advanced on his son.
Henry took an instinctive step back.
“Papa,” Keely called, fearing her father would strike him.
“Clean yourself up,” Duke Robert ordered, towering over his son. “Report to my study at Talbot House in one hour. ’Tis past time we discussed several important issues.”
Henry nodded and left the room.
“’Tis my fault for failing to chaperone him,” Keely said, drawing her father’s attention. “I’ve been so caught up in my own misery—”
“Do not shoulder the blame for your brother’s outrageous behavior,” Duke Robert interrupted. “His task was to guard you, not the other way around. I’ll return for you at eleven.”
“Papa?”
Duke Robert paused at the door and turned around.
“Go easy on him,” Keely said. “Please?”
“I have no intention of murdering my only son,” Duke Robert assured her, a hint of a smile flirting with the corners of his lips. “You may find this difficult to believe, but I was young once too.”
* * *
Keely stepped outside at the appointed hour and hurried across the lawns to the quay, where her father waited. Anticipation flushed her cheeks, and the life’s blood that surged through her body sang the song of her beloved. She had opened her heart and listened to the Goddess, who was now rewarding her for her unwavering faith.
Almost five months pregnant, Keely was beginning to outgrow her gowns. She wore her finest and loosest day dress, fashioned in violet velvet with a modestly high neckline. Over that she wore a lightweight black woolen cloak, and in her hands she carried an enormous tapestry bag filled with the holy objects she needed to protect her husband.
Early spring teased the world with clear blue skies, radiant sunshine, and gentle breezes. The sun's rays warming her shoulders and the gentle breeze tickling her face brought with them the most pleasant of memories—her husband’s lovemaking. Keely suffered the urge to kick her boots off and feel the grass between her toes.
At the quay, Duke Robert hopped onto the barge and then helped her to board. Father and daughter sat together as the ducal barge glided downriver.
“What do you carry in the bag?” he asked.
“A few necessities for Richard,” she answered, an ambiguous smile turning the comers of her lips up. “How fares Henry?”
“Repenting his sins.” The duke cast her a sidelong glance. “Shall I produce his warm breathing body?”
Keely touched his forearm, and when he turned to her, she looked him straight in the eye. “I trust you, Papa.”
Sudden tears welled in the duke’s violet eyes, so much like his daughter’s. Duke Robert put his arm around her and planted a paternal kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, child,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words.”
“On my wedding day, I told you I loved you,” Keely reminded him.
“True, but a world of difference lies between loving and trusting,” Duke Robert said. “Sometimes the one we love proves untrustworthy. Now, before you remark upon how sage I am, remember that advanced age brings a bittersweet wisdom.”
“You’re still young,” Keely insisted. Then: “Papa, tell me about Megan and you.”
The duke’s eyes clouded with remembered pain. “Once the danger to your husband is past, I will answer all of your questions. Can you be content until then?”
Keely nodded. Duke Robert was all that she had ever wanted in a father, everything she’d thought would make her happy, and now the world had spun upside down. Her happiness hinged on her husband.
If only Richard were freed . . . If only she belonged in his world . . . If only he loved her.
Their journey downriver took longer than usual. The world of men had awakened from its long winter’s slumber, and the traffic upon that great street of water called the Thames proved congested. Though inconvenienced by the crush of barges, the boatmen seemed carefree and called greetings to friend and stranger alike. The ducal barge slipped beneath London Bridge and passed enclosed ship basins, from which the mingling scents of spices, grain, and lumber wafted through the air.
Soon Keely saw the pepper-pot turrets and forbidding gray walls of the Tower of London. She wondered in what condition she would find her husband. How would Richard greet her after all these months? Had he missed her? Had she even crossed his mind?
Their barge docked at the Watergate of St. Thomas Tower, also known as Traitor’s Gate, the most dreaded portal in all of England. Such notoriously dangerous criminals as Anne Boleyn and her daughter, Queen Elizabeth, had passed through it. Some had returned to the world of men. Some were never seen again.
Keely stared up at St. Thomas Tower but saw a hideous glaring monster, its gate the mouth that had swallowed her husband. “Tormented souls have passed through this gate,” she said as her father helped her disembark.
“Aye,” Duke Robert agreed, guiding her toward the Lieutenant’s Lodgings. “Thinking about them will mar the babe, though.”
“Did they bring Richard—?”
“Lingering upon past sorrows is futile,” Duke Robert interrupted. “Your husband enjoys the best of health. He’s a bit bored with his confinement and a trifle irritated about losing so much gold.”
“You mean, the blunders on the queen’s accounts?”
“No, child.” Duke Robert smiled. “Losing games of chance to one’s jailers is expected of a man of your husband’s rank and reputation. ’Tis expedient to do so. A bribe of sorts. He loses at cards and dice, and the constable sees that he enjoys the best of everything. Why, ’tis one of England’s oldest traditions.”
Keely stopped walking and looked at him. “You mean, I’ve been losing sleep over a man who’s been gambling for three months?”
“A man can only read so much.”
The atmosphere inside the Tower Green was eerily hushed as if the Tower’s stone walls trapped unearthly silence. A cool stillness pervaded the air.
Advancing on Beauchamp Tower, which perched above the Green and the menacing scaffold, Keely peered over her shoulder at the Lodgings. She scanned the area beneath its windows but saw no sign of the queen’s restless spirit.
The chaplain royal awaited them at the entrance to Beauchamp Tower. “Are you ready, Your Grace?” the minister asked, unmistakable glee sparkling in his eyes.
“Aye, but I feel unlucky today,” Duke Robert said, shaking the other man’s hand.
The chaplain nodded at Keely and then led the way up the stairs to the second floor. Keely walked behind him, and her father followed her.
Keely wet her lips, gone dry from nervous apprehension. For three long months, she’d yearned for this moment, but a sharp feeling of insecurity now swept through her and her step slowed. What if her husband wasn’t glad to see her?
And then, Keely reached the top of the stairs. Almost reluctantly, she walked into the chamber.
Richard stood there. When he saw her, he smiled and opened his arms. With a cry of joy, Keely threw herself into his embrace and burst into tears.
Richard crushed her against the comforting planes of his body and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “Don’t cry, dearest,” he said, stroking her back. “I thought seeing me again would make you happy.”
Keely gave a watery chuckle. She gazed up at him through fathomless pools of violet. Placing the palms of her hands against his cheeks, she said, “The babe makes me emotional.”
“Does he?” Richard countered with a soft, teasing smile.
Keely recognized the gleam of desire glowing in her husband’s eyes. She stood on her tiptoes, hooked one arm around his neck, and gently drew his smiling face closer.
Richard lost his smile. His mouth hovered above hers for the merest fraction of a second, and then his warm lips claimed hers in an earth-shattering kiss.
An urgent and demanding desperation to join their young bodies and become one overpowered them. That single devastating kiss melted into another. And then another.
Duke Robert cleared his throat, and the other two men in the room chuckled. With herculean effort, Richard broke the kiss and grinned at his father-in-law.
“Come, dearest,” he said, removing her cloak and handing it to the duke.
Refusing to relinquish her hold on her husband, Keely looped her arm through his and caught her first glimpse of his prison. Though far from luxurious, the chamber was well-lit, airy, and clean. Built into one wall was the hearth, and in the center of the room stood a table with three chairs.
“Good day to you, sir,” Keely greeted the constable.
“You’re looking well, my lady,” Kingston said.
“I do appreciate your taking good care of my husband.”
“The pleasure belongs to me, my lady.”
“I’ll show you my chamber upstairs,” Richard said, taking her hand in his.
Clutching her tapestry bag, Keely blushed and smiled at their audience of three, then accompanied her husband to the spiral staircase in one corner of the chamber. At the top, Richard opened a door and led the way into his third-floor bedchamber.
Keely stopped short at the surprising sight that greeted her. His prison in the Tower appeared more comfortable than her old bedchamber in Wales.
Against one wall stood a four-poster bed, complete with draperies and fur coverlet. Beside the bed was a small table that bore a silver tray, containing a wine decanter, two crystal goblets, a hunk of bread, and an array of cheeses. A cheerful fire glowed within the hearth, before which sat a comfortable-looking chair. Two windows allowed the afternoon sunlight to filter into the room.
Keely turned to him. “Why, you haven’t been suffering at all.”
“Living without you is the worst torture imaginable,” Richard said, drawing her into the circle of his embrace. “Come to bed, dearest.”
“Patience, my lord,” Keely said. “We must do this correctly if we want the Goddess to protect you from harm.”
Richard cocked a copper brow at her. He’d waited three long months to see her. Was she now going to play the coy maiden?
“Please, place the coverlet on the floor in the center of the chamber.”
While he did her bidding, Keely opened her tapestry bag. She pulled two ceremonial robes out as well as her pouch of magic stones.
“Disrobe and put this on.” She handed him one of the robes.
Richard gave her a skeptical look.
“I’m heavy with your child,” Keely said. “Humor me.”
Both Richard and Keely disrobed and covered their nakedness with the ceremonial robes. Keely reached for her pouch of stones but then paused to adjust the hood of her husband’s robe over his head.
“Don't bother,” he said, touching her hand. “I won’t be wearing it long.”
Keely chose eight dark carnelians for protection and courage. With these, she formed a makeshift circle around the fur coverlet and left only the western periphery open. Without saying a word, Keely offered her hand to her husband.
Richard dropped his amused gaze from her amethyst eyes to her hand. His smile was pure love as he placed his hand in hers.
She led him into the safety of the circle and closed it behind them, saying, “All disturbing thoughts remain outside.”
Removing her golden sickle from the pouch, Keely walked around the inside of the circle and fused its invisible periphery shut. She turned to her husband and closed her eyes, praying, “Great Mother Goddess, fierce guardian of all your children, accept this humble offering of our bodies. Shield my wonderful husband from his enemies, the evil-doers.”
“Thank you, dearest,” Richard whispered. “Now what?”
Keely pushed the white ceremonial robe off his shoulders. Beginning at the top of his head, she worshipped him with her eyes. His crown of burnished copper hair was a fiery sunset, and his eyes were the green of her beloved forests in springtime. His body was as solid and perfectly formed as a majestic oak. Richard was indeed her pagan god sprung to life.
Dropping her gaze, Keely admired his broad shoulders and well-muscled chest, with its mat of copper hair. Lower, her gaze dipped to his tapered waist and then his aroused manhood.
Keely forced herself to lift her gaze to his. She shrugged the robe off her shoulders and stood before him. Wearing only her gleaming dragon pendant and the curtain of ebony hair that fell to her waist, Keely was his pagan princess.
The powerful primitive urge to cover her body with his own and mate surged through Richard. For her sake, he held himself in check and followed her lead.
Richard dropped his gaze from her hauntingly lovely face to her breasts with their enlarged dusky nipples, the exquisite proof that his child grew within her womb. Lower his gaze drifted to her curving hips and rounded belly.
With a groan of mingling emotion and need, Richard dropped to his knees in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her hips and kissed the mound of her swollen belly.
“My seed has grown,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with tender awe.
“Aye.” She stroked the crown of his head.
Richard slashed his tongue across her moist female’s place and heard her sharp intake of breath. He cupped her buttocks and held her steady while his exploring tongue made her squirm with hot desire.
Up and down, Richard flicked his tongue in a gentle assault on her womanhood. He licked and kissed her dewy jewel, while his talented fingers teased and taunted her sensitive nipples.
Surrendering to the exquisite feeling, Keely melted against his tongue. She cried out and clung to him as wave after wave of throbb
ing pleasure surged through her.
Richard pulled her down in front of him and kissed her passionately, pouring all of his love into that stirring kiss. Gently, he pushed her down on the fur coverlet and positioned himself between her thighs.
“The babe?” he asked.
“She will be fine.”
With that, Richard plunged deep inside her and sheathed himself to the hilt. He withdrew slowly and then slid forward, piercing her softness, teasing her over and over again, until she trembled with rekindled need. Holding her hips steady, Richard thrust deep and rode her hard. Again and again, he ground himself into her throbbing softness.
With mingling cries, Richard and Keely exploded together and then lay still as they floated back to earth from their shared paradise. He moved to one side, pulled her with him, and cradled her in his arms. Long moments passed in silence.
“Were we very loud?” Keely whispered, breaking the silence. “Do you think my father knows what we’re doing?”
“It would be highly insulting if he believed we were talking,” Richard answered.
The thought that her father knew what they were doing—at the very moment they were doing it—made Keely blush. And then she remembered her father wasn’t alone belowstairs. “Holy stones,” Keely moaned, hiding her face against his chest. “I futtered my husband above the minister’s head.”
Richard burst out laughing. “Dearest, you are so incredibly sweet.”
She peered up at him. “Good enough to eat, I hope.”
Richard rolled her onto her back and kissed her while one of his hands caressed her silken length as lightly as a summer’s breeze. He heard her ragged sigh of desire and dipped his head to suckle upon her sensitive nipples.
Their loveplay was tormentingly slow this time, and Richard savored each of his wife’s delicate shivers and arousing moans. Temporarily depleted of energy, both felt reluctant to waste precious moments in sleep.
“I’ll fetch us a goblet of wine.” Richard started to rise.
Keely touched his forearm to stop him. “Breaking the circle without giving thanks is forbidden.”
Richard nodded and helped her stand.
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