Love, Remember Me

by Bertrice Small

  He drew her up, and pulling her over to a chair by the fire, sat down. Her back to him, Nyssa took his leather-shod foot between her legs as he braced the other foot upon her bottom. “Push!” she commanded him as she pulled his boot off. Then repeating the process, she removed the other boot. Turning about to face him, she began to slowly divest herself of her own garments; first her bodice, and then her skirts. Her little pointed tongue flicked across her lips as she slipped off her petticoats, one silk, one woolen, and one cotton. Reaching up, she removed the caul about her hair and shook the soft, dark tresses loose of their confinement.

  He watched her appreciatively, sprawled in his chair, his chest bare. “What if someone comes in?” he said.

  Nyssa drew her chemise off, and cupping her breasts in her palms, she fondled them before his eyes. Naked but for her stockings, which were gartered with silk rosettes, and her elegant, bejeweled shoes, she walked across the chamber to turn the key in the lock of the dayroom. Silently he admired the long line of her back and her dimpled, rounded buttocks. When she turned about, the sight of her saucy, upturned nipples thrusting up from her marvelous young breasts set his blood boiling. Sliding to her knees again, she began to place small, hot kisses across his lean torso. She licked at his belly, burrowing into his navel. The tight, hard bulge in his breeches was growing more evident with each passing minute. She cupped a palm over the protuberance and squeezed him teasingly. “I want you too,” she said softly to him. Then she lay upon her back before the fire, her legs up and spread.

  Her wanton behavior almost took his breath away. Fascinated, he watched as she spread her nether lips with her hands and began to play with herself. Her eyes never left his. Somehow he managed to get to his feet. With equal restraint he removed the remaining garments he wore. Then he stood for a long moment above her, watching as she teased her own flesh into creamy readiness. He slid to the floor next to her, drawing her naked form against his. Her skin was burning with her desire, and when their lips met, she sighed deeply.

  He kissed her slowly, feeling the texture of the lips beneath his, enjoying their softness, their passionate response. When he knew that her mouth ached as much as his did, he pressed soft, butterfly kisses across her face. Her eyes were closed in her ecstasy, the thick dark lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. He nibbled upon an earlobe, licking about the shell of her ear, pushing his tongue suggestively into it to tickle her.

  She arched against him, reaching for him to stroke his turgid manhood. “Please!” she whispered urgently.

  “Not yet,” he murmured back to her. Turning her upon her belly, he let his lips and tongue explore the line of her backbone. His teasing kisses swept across her buttocks and down her legs, then back up again. Pivoting her onto her back again, he nuzzled between her breasts, feeling her wildly beating heart beneath his mouth.

  He was driving her wild with his deliciously erotic attentions. His pent-up desire for her should have made him anxious to possess her, but this time he seemed willing to wait, to tease her with sensual games. She liked it, yet she was hot to have him. “Now!” she demanded, sinking her teeth into his shoulder and biting him fiercely.

  “Impatient little bitch,” he growled at her, slapping her lightly. Then his mouth closed over a nipple and he began to suckle hard upon it even as he plunged two of his fingers into her hot sheath, thrusting them hard, making her whimper with pleasure.

  After the first brief release, she realized it simply was not enough. She wanted him deep inside of her, filling her full of his throbbing passion. Angrily she struggled against him. “Now, damn you! Now!” she hissed. Her fists beat a tattoo on his back. In answer to her pleas, he fiercely pushed her down again upon her back. Eagerly, Nyssa opened her legs to him, but to her shock he grasped her, yanking her limbs over his shoulders, burying his face between her thighs, his tongue with unerring direction finding her little jewel. Slowly he flicked back and forth over the angry pink nub of excited flesh. She couldn’t draw a breath for a long moment. Her whole being was suffused with a glowing heat that seemed to blossom from deep within her.

  “Varian!” she moaned. “Oh, God, you are killing me!”

  Relentlessly he continued the torture, until she was near to expiring with her own lust, and then as suddenly as he had attacked her, he released her, sliding his hard body over her, his manhood entering her slowly, then pistoning her with deep, slow strokes. “Now!” he breathed into her ear. “Now, sweet wife!”

  She seemed to explode inside, but as he moved on her, the excitement began to build again, until she was unable to tell the real from the unreal. She was soaring, yet melting away. She clutched at him, her legs wrapping themselves tightly about his torso. They seemed to go on forever, and then suddenly he was groaning even as his loving tribute burst with a rush into her hidden garden. They shuddered simultaneously, clinging to each other as the passion eased away and they were both left gasping for breath.

  Overcome by her emotions, Nyssa began to weep wildly. “Oh, God,” she sobbed, “it was never like that before, Varian. Our passion for each other has always been wonderful, but never like this.” She wept against his shoulder, her hot tears slipping down his skin.

  “I know,” he whispered to her, his voice shaking. What had just happened between them was as surprising to him as it had been to her. He had never loved her as much as he did in this moment. He held her close, his loving arms comforting her.

  They lay together before the fire in silence for some minutes, and then Nyssa said softly, “I think perhaps we should put our clothing back on, my lord. What if someone comes to get into the room and finds it locked? I will wager that such a thing has never before happened in your grandfather’s apartments at Hampton Court.”

  He chuckled. “Probably not,” he agreed. “We will dress ourselves in enough garments to reach our bedchamber, madame, my love.”

  “Oh?” She turned her tear-washed eyes to him. They reminded him of wet bluebells.

  “I have not yet finished with you, wife,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, what else is there to do now that the king is gone, the queen imprisoned, and the court shaking in its boots wondering what the hell is going on? I think we are very lucky, my darling. We have a cozy bedchamber, and we have each other. I think we should retire to it this very minute to while away the hours as pleasantly as possible. We cannot leave, and I should far rather play sensual games with you than stand about with the others, fearfully casting about for answers.”

  “Few will associate with us now anyway,” Nyssa agreed. “We carry the Howard taint. There is, I fear, nothing else to do, my darling husband and lord, but lock ourselves away.” Reaching out, she grasped at her chemise and pulled it on over her head, then turning back, she beckoned him seductively. “Are you coming, my lord?”

  Chapter 16

  Those on the Privy Council who were in sympathy with the Howards came to the queen and helped her to write a letter to the king, begging his forgiveness. Catherine was not the most intelligent woman, but she realized now that her only hope lay in her husband’s love for her. If she could move him to forgive her, then he would stop the archbishop from digging further into her activities after she became queen. Her uncle had carefully explained how explosive the situation really was. This had enabled her to pull herself together. If she stayed afraid, she could not possibly hope to act to save herself, and her family. Dereham was jealous of Culpeper. She had rejected Dereham. Dereham, she sensed, knew what was going on between her and Tom Culpeper. She had to get Dereham and her lover released from the Tower before they were tortured and succumbed to confessing their involvement in her life.

  I, Your Grace’s most sorrowful subject and vile wretch in the world, not worthy to make any recommendations unto Your Majesty, do only make my most humble submission and confession of my faults. And where no cause of mercy is given on my part, yet of your most accustomed mercy extended to all other men undeserved, most humbly on my hands and knees do de
sire one particle thereof to be extended unto me, although of all other creatures most unworthy either to be called your wife or subject. My sorrow I can by no writing express, nevertheless I trust your most benign nature will have some respect unto my youth, my ignorance, my frailness, my humble confession of my faults and plain declaration of the same, referring me wholly unto Your Grace’s pity and mercy. First at the flattering and fair persuasions of Manox, being a young girl (I) suffered him at sundry times to handle and touch the secret parts of my body, which neither became me with honesty to permit, nor him to require. Also Francis Dereham by many persuasions procured me to visit his vicious purpose, and obtained first to lie upon my bed with his doublet and hose, and after within the bed, and finally he lay with me naked, and used me in such sort as a man doth his wife, many and sundry times and our company ended almost a year before the King’s Majesty was married to my Lady Anne of Cleves, and continued not past one quarter of a year, or a little above. I humbly beseech you to consider the subtle persuasions of young men, and the ignorance and frailness of young women. I was so desirous to be taken unto Your Grace’s favor, and so blinded with the desire of worldly glory, that I could not, nor had the grace to consider how great a fault it was to conceal my former faults from Your Majesty, considering that I intended ever during my life to be faithful and true unto Your Majesty after, nevertheless, the sorrow of mine offences was ever before mine eyes, considering the infinite goodness of Your Majesty towards me from time to time ever increasing and not diminishing. Now I refer the judgment of all my offences with my life and death wholly unto your most benign and merciful Grace to be considered by no justice of Your Majesty’s laws but only by our infinite goodness, pity, compassion and mercy, without the which I acknowledge myself worthy of extreme punishment.

  This sad little plea was brought to the king, and when he read it, he felt a good deal better than he had in days. His poor little Catherine, led astray by these wicked and dissolute young men. There would have to be an annulment, of course, for he could not continue his marriage to an unchaste woman who might have been precontracted, but at least he would not have to execute her as he had her cousin. He smiled. He might even keep his little Catherine as a mistress. She was a great pleasure to him in bed.

  The archbishop was announced, and glided in quietly.

  “Well, Tom?” the king demanded.

  “There is no doubt, Your Grace,” the archbishop said, “that Catherine Howard was precontracted to Francis Dereham. Your union with her will have to be annulled, I fear.”

  The king offered his cleric the queen’s letter. “Aye, she admits to it here. I am relieved, although I shall be sorry to lose her. She has been a most agreeable wife, the most agreeable of all my wives, in fact. I cannot, however, remain wed to an unchaste woman.”

  “There may be more,” the archbishop said.

  “Nay, Tom, no more,” the king told him. “I am satisfied with the results. I loved my Catherine, my rose, as I never loved any woman, but my love has now abated. Let it be.” Then the king returned to Hampton Court, and threw a dinner party, sitting at the table with twenty-six of the handsomest ladies at the court. He was suddenly at his gayest, and flirted as of old with all the women. He did not see his wife.

  Two days later the king rode off as if to go hunting, but in reality he rode to London, going to Whitehall, where he met with his Privy Council until early the next morning. He rested briefly and ate, returning to the council for most of the day.

  Thomas Cranmer was certain that given time, he could discover evidence of the queen’s adultery. The thought that Catherine Howard could possibly have foisted a bastard prince on England horrified him. He convinced the council, for on the council those who were not allies of the Howards were in the majority. They felt the archbishop should be given his time, that the queen should not escape their justice. The king, not wanting to be embarrassed further, argued against it, but he finally gave in to the Privy Council’s demands.

  The court, arriving from Hampton Court, saw the council as it broke up, coming from their chamber. The Duke of Norfolk looked very unhappy. The queen had been left at Hampton Court still under house arrest.

  Aware that the court had departed, leaving her behind, Catherine Howard grew frightened again. The following morning the archbishop came to Hampton Court to see her.

  “Why have I been left here?” Catherine demanded with a touch of her old queenly imperiousness.

  “You will not be here long, madame,” he replied. “It has been decided that you will be removed to Syon House in Middlesex for the interim.”

  “Syon? ’Tis in the country! Why can I not return to court? Will the king, my husband, not forgive me? Is this to be my punishment—to be exiled to some dreadfully dull country house, my lord? For how long must I stay there?”

  “Madame, I am not at liberty to give you any explanations, excepting that you are to be removed from Hampton Court to Syon. You will be allowed four attendants and two serving women. You will be served as befits a queen. Prepare yourself to depart in two days’ time.”

  “I cannot pack in such a short time,” Catherine complained, stamping her foot at him. “You have taken all my servants from me.”

  “A new wardrobe will be given you, madame. You will have need for little in your new circumstances. Sir Thomas Seymour will remove your court clothing and seal your chests. They, along with your jewels, will be returned to the king, from whence all your good fortune has come.”

  Lady Rochford gasped. The queen was frozen with shock, and could not speak for a moment.

  The archbishop fixed Jane Rochford with a hard look. “You are to be sent to the Tower, Lady Rochford, for you know far more of your mistress’s behavior, I think, than you have told,” Thomas Cranmer said sternly. “You must be thoroughly questioned.”

  “If you take Rochford from me,” Catherine cried, her speech returned, “who will I have to keep me company, my lord? Surely you will not leave me to be alone?”

  “You will have your gentlewomen and chamberers, madame. They will be your company. They will serve you,” he answered her.

  “May I choose my own ladies?” the queen asked.

  “Nay,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “Just one of the four, sir,” she pleaded. “My cousin’s wife, Nyssa de Winter, the Countess of March. Oh, please, my lord!”

  “I will think on it,” the archbishop promised. In the end, however, he allowed her to have her choice of three of the four. The fourth lady would have to be Lady Baynton, whose husband, Edward, was to be the queen’s chamberlain at Syon. Catherine asked for her two old companions—the king’s niece, Kate Carey, and Bessie FitzGerald.

  Varian de Winter was furious at his foolish cousin for involving his wife, but Nyssa said gently, “They seek to find a way to kill her, Varian. And they will find it even if they must bend the truth, or stretch it a little. One thing I have learned at court is that when the mighty desire something, they will always discover a way to get it. Your grandfather and Bishop Gardiner wanted a queen who was more Catholic than Anne of Cleves. They managed to obtain their wish. Now the archbishop wishes to pull down this queen and replace her with a more reformed one.

  “Poor silly Cat has given him the ammunition he needed. They will seek until they find evidence of adultery. Then they will kill Catherine Howard for her foolish, romantic notions. If the king were to divorce her, or find a way for an annulment, there would always be the chance he would forgive her. He has loved her more than the others. The reformers do not want him to forgive Cat. She is a doomed woman. She may not admit to it yet, but she knows it. That is why she wants her few friends about her. I go gladly, even if I am still angry at Cat for her stupidity.”

  “What am I to do without you?” he asked her. “We have never been apart since our marriage. I do not think I shall enjoy sleeping alone again.” He drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Once you are at Syon, I shall not see you until it
is all over. Who knows how long that will be, Nyssa, my darling love?”

  “The king’s intentions toward the Howards and their kin is still a dangerous and dark thing, Varian,” Nyssa told her husband. “You must be as quiet as a rabbit in its nest, outwaiting the fox, my lord.”

  “I will escape that fat old fox,” he promised her, “and I will be waiting for you, Nyssa, to come back to me.”

  The Duke of Norfolk joined them with new information. “You will be allowed to take little,” he told his grandson’s wife. “The queen is only being allowed to have six changes of clothing, and nothing can be sewn with jewels. A bit of gold or silver, but that is all. Choose your own clothing with equal discretion. If you want, your tiring woman can go with you. They may allow the servants in and out, but I cannot promise you that for certain,” he said.

  “If anything should happen to Varian, or me,” Nyssa said, “you must promise me that you will send Tillie home to RiversEdge, my lord.”

  “You have my word,” he agreed, “but I do not think you need fear for yourselves, madame. You and Varian are de Winters, after all, and not Howards.” He smiled grimly at her.

  She curtsied to him, saying, “I had best go and ready myself.”

  “You are a brave woman … Nyssa,” he said, using her name for the very first time. “I did not intend it, but I seem to have done my grandson a favor when I managed his marriage to you.” It was the closest he would ever come to apologizing to her.

  “I shared in the favor, my lord,” she answered him, “for love remembered me when I found myself matched with Varian. I have learned to love in return.” It was the closest she would come to telling him she accepted his apology.