by Leila Snow
Whilst her sheath still clenched about him, he rolled over, bringing her with him to straddle his hardness. His hands clenched her hips and taught her the rhythm. Madeline tipped her head back as the pleasure returned, even deeper and more fervid than before. Her long hair brushed against her lower back and across his muscular thighs. She rode him, whilst he groaned and pushed within her. Reaching forward, his fingers teased at her sensitive petals and the responsive bud hidden within their folds. He watched sensuously as she sobbed when she once again dissolved into the rapture that exploded from where they were joined and rippled outward.
Through the bliss of satisfaction, she saw him shout out, whilst his hot seed pumped into her. Even as he softened and threatened to slip from her body, she kept her quivering legs wrapped about his loins, not wanting to separate from him.
For a long moment they lay there entwined, neither willing to let go of the other. Eventually, Nate rolled them to their sides. He leaned over her and gazed affectionately down at her passion-swollen lips whilst brushing her tangled hair off her forehead. The heavy pendant fell from his chest to nestle between her breasts.
"I love you," he said simply, his breathing still heavy.
Madeline felt the tears welling in her eyes before they brimmed over and trickled down her cheeks.
"Ho now, what's this?" Nate questioned softly, catching one with a fingertip.
"I love you," Madeline echoed, gulping. "I didn't understand, Nate. You were just always there. I thought it would always be that way. I loved you once as a little girl loves her protector and her hero. I love you now as a woman loves a man. What twists of fate have kept us apart! But it was bearable because you were nearby. If I couldn't touch you or be with you, there were nevertheless, a few stolen moments where I could speak with you and see your affection for me. It was always there deep behind your eyes. But now..." she broke off, unable to continue.
"My sweet Linny," Nathaniel replied, awestruck, worshipfully kissing the tears from her cheeks. "You never said. You never told me how you felt."
"It seemed manageable if it wasn't spoken. As if our feelings for each other were to be allowed to escape into the freedom of spoken word, we may not be able to contain or control them."
Nate nodded soberly, understanding what she was fumbling about to explain. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as he held her cheek to his chest. His heartbeat under her ear eventually comforted her and she slept.
O love, my love!
If I no more should see
Thyself, nor on the earth
the shadow of thee,
Nor image of thine eyes
in any spring,
How then should sound
upon Life’s darkening slope
The ground-whirl of the perished
leaves of Hope,
The wind of Death’s
imperishable wing?
~Dante Gabriel Rossetti
CHAPTER 27
The fire had burned low when next she awoke. Nate lay curled around her, his hand resting possessively upon her breast. His deep breaths caressing the bare skin of her shoulder. She lay still, relishing the intimacy of the moment, whilst forcing sobering thoughts of their separation from her mind. There would be a lifetime to deal with the pain, but only a short moment to cherish their intimacy.
Madeline rolled over and pressed her lips against Nate's parted ones. In his slumber he hummed his pleasure and instinctively pulled her closer. She smoothed the long, blonde strands from his face as she kissed his closed eyes, his cheekbones, the cleft of his chin, and then his full lips again. He smiled briefly against her lips as he began to stir. His eyes still closed, he slid a large, calloused hand down over her waist to her thigh. When he pulled her leg up over his hip, she could feel his erection against her belly. Languorously, she rocked against him, whilst her hands explored and memorized the ridges and valleys of his hard body.
Nate opened his eyes when he slipped inside her. His loving gaze met Madeline’s and their tongues leisurely explored each other's whilst he made slow, gentle love to her. Gone was the wild desperation of the night before, this was a moment of joining and a moment to cherish. It would have to last them until this mortal life was ended. Nathaniel had no doubt that when they both departed this earthly realm, their spirits would exist forever together in the afterlife.
Too soon, they were both straining together. In mutual harmony, they cried out their fulfillment and then lay panting, clinging desperately to each other.
* * *
Three days later, Nate wed Aileth. It was not an extravagant wedding, due to their mourning, but the bride was radiant with smiles and joyful eyes. Nathaniel was a dutiful and considerate groom, if somewhat pale and quiet. Only Madeline knew firsthand the effort it cost him and the suffering he endured as he joined himself to another.
The bride had refused to wear blue, the colour of purity. She had confided to Madeline her pre-marital indiscretion and her resulting condition. Insisting that she could not wed before God in blue, she had instead chosen green as the colour of love and new life. Madeline reluctantly admitted that the sweet girl looked very pretty and with complete sincerity, held Aileth's hands before the ceremony to give her blessing and best wishes for a happy life. She also had Cedric draw up the appropriate papers, releasing Nathaniel from her authority. He was now his own man, landed and self-ruling. She asked the steward to deliver it to Nate as her marriage gift.
The wedding mass had been long and unendurably painful for Madeline. She had been unable to watch, staring instead at the flagstone floor whilst trying to tune out the droning of the priest. But eventually the deed was done and the witnesses had followed the bridal pair to the great hall. The marriage feast, whilst not lavish, had been adequately bounteous. The king had invited Nathaniel and Aileth to share the high table along with Madeline. She had once again been seated to his right and thankfully, the newly wedded couple sat to the left of the queen. Madeline was relieved that they were obscured from her purview. Edward seemed to sense her melancholy and considerately kept his conversation to polite pleasantries.
Immediately following the feast, the guests accompanied the bridal party to the courtyard. There was not the hue and cry, nor the great entourage that had accompanied Madeline on her wedding day, but Aileth beamed and waved as if she had just been crowned queen. Madeline endeavoured to be gracious though she fought waves of jealousy and despair that threatened to consume and suffocate her.
As the couple and their small guard rode through the thick gates of Woodstock Palace, Nathaniel turned in his saddle, anguish written on his face. He caught Madeline's eye and held it as long as he was able, before he finally disappeared from sight.
Madeline gulped, keeping her eyes dry and feet firmly planted despite the compulsion to escape.
"I will send for you this night," the king bent his head down and whispered privately to her.
"I do not think I would be good company, sire," she avowed firmly. "I believe I am unwell."
He raised an eyebrow to her and she could see the slight irritation behind his otherwise placid eyes.
"Very well," he allowed reluctantly. "I do hope that you are much recovered on the morrow," he added pointedly before he turned and walked back into the keep.
* * *
Madeline didn't emerge from her chambers for more than a fortnight. When Cedric arrived with summons from Edward she invariably sent back her regrets pleading deep mourning. She ate little and spent most of her days sleeping or staring out her window, lost in contemplation and remembrance of happier times. Muriel seemed to be in a similar state and continued to function silently and ghost-like, but the maid's quiet was preferable to Madeline's mood.
Finally, one afternoon, almost three weeks after Nate had wed, Madeline was startled out of her reverie by a pounding at the hidden door. Wondering idly why Cedric would deliver his daily summons via this avenue she walked to the tapestry. Holding it back, she pushed against
the secret knot and the door swung wide. Edward stood in the opening.
Madeline stepped back in alarmed surprise. "Sire," she said, recovering her composure enough to drop down onto her knees before him. He stood a long moment before her, unspeaking and unmoving. Eventually, she heard him let out a deep breath.
"Of all the women at court, I have to be fascinated by you," he sighed. "You have refused my summons for nigh on a moon now. No other woman I know would have the courage." He reached down and drew her to her feet. "Perhaps that is one of the reasons I am enthralled."
"Sire," Madeline pleaded. "I..."
"There is no need for explanations," he said kindly but with a note of firm resolution. "Though it ends now," he said, drawing her into his arms and lowering his mouth to hers.
Madeline felt a tear trickle down her cheek as he led her to the bed.
* * *
Eventually, she had realized that resistance to the king was futile. If she tried to deny him, he would inevitably arrive to her room via the hidden tunnel. Afraid that her maid or someone else would discover the illicit relationship, she finally capitulated and met Edward in Rosamund's bower when he summoned. He was a generous lover, and more often than not her body betrayed her heart and mind, and she found a bitter-sweet satisfaction in his youthful arms. But her mind was ever on Nathaniel; how he faired, if his child would be blonde like him, and whether Aileth made him happy. She prayed he was well and that he was content in his new life. When she visited the chapel she lit a candle for both Endle and Nate.
One afternoon, as she lay naked on the bed in Rosamund's bower, Edward lay beside her and softly stroked her belly. Both were satisfied in the aftermath of their intimacy. Madeline watched as he traced circles around her navel and absently wondered why she seemed thicker about the middle, despite the fact that her appetite had dwindled since Nate's marriage.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright in the bed, the king's hand dropping to her lap, but Madeline paid no mind. She was past due for her women's flow! Ignoring the look of confusion Edward directed at her, she frantically searched her mind as to when it had last visited. She remembered it had arrived just after Endle's death, as she had been relieved she hadn't conceived the king's child. But was it possible that she had since conceived a royal bastard? she wondered in frenzied panic.
"You are white as a spirit," Edward stated, sitting up beside her. "What troubles you, my Rosamund?"
"It is naught, Edward," she assured him absently, unwilling to yet expose her condition.
"I would help you in anyway I can," he soothed her gently.
"Nay, sire," she said with a slight smile. "It is nothing."
"Very well then," he said with a wink and a much larger grin. "Perhaps we can see about distracting you from your thoughts," he proposed, drawing her hand to his once again hardening member.
"We have already..." Madeline began.
"I am yet young," the king teased, stroking her hand up and down his manhood. "And the sight of you makes me crave all manner of wanton fleshly desires." He leaned forward and took her nipple in his mouth.
"Sire..." she pleaded.
"Will you obey your king?" he demanded teasingly then smiled benevolently when she nodded. "Stand up," he demanded.
Madeline complied.
"Bend over the bed," he directed her.
She flushed at revealing herself to him in this manner.
"Ah! You are spectacular," he cried out. And she clutched at the red, fur-lined bedcover while he had his way again.
* * *
When finally back in her own chambers some hours later, Madeline turned the situation around in her mind. As best as she could figure, her monthly courses should have been due shortly after Nathaniel wed. The king had taken her to bed again several weeks after the wedding but thinking upon it, she had already missed her course by then, though in her misery she hadn't noticed. That meant...
Madeline leapt up from the bed in joyous realisation. The babe was certainly Nate's! Fate had taken him from her but sympathising with her despair, had granted her a boon...his child. Despite the difficulties of the situation, she was awestruck and overjoyed. She pressed her hands to the slight swell of her belly. Nate's child rested within! She nearly shouted out her exultation, though her happiness was tempered by her predicament. She was a widow, expecting the child of a married man. She began to pace the room, searching for a solution. She didn't even notice when Muriel entered to build up the fire against the chill of the winter day.
"Is there aught that troubles you, my Lady?" the maid asked quietly.
Anxious to reveal her news to someone, she bade the maid sit. "I will need help, Muriel," she finally said. "There is something I must tell you, though it would not long remain a secret," she announced sheepishly. "I am with child."
The maid searched her mistress's face for several long moments. "I suspected as much," she confessed. "You haven't had need of..."
Madeline nodded, grimacing at the intimate topic.
"Does the king know?" the maid enquired nervously.
"Nay," Madeline answered uncomfortably. "Though in truth, the child is not his."
Muriel's eyes grew wide and Madeline saw the girl's mind working before she declared deliberately, "Then I suppose it must be Lord Endle's child."
"Muriel..." Madeline began hesitantly.
"There is no need for explanation," the maid said pointedly. "Only you or I could possibly know otherwise. I am certain, as I'm sure you are, that it is fortuitous and Lord Endle sired an heir before he passed."
"Indeed..." Madeline responded, regarding Muriel gratefully. The girl had hit upon the perfect solution!
* * *
Madeline attended the evening meal in the great hall for the first time since Endle's death. Still dressed in full mourning attire, she again sat at the high table between the king and William Montagu. As before, the baron had little to say to her. Edward however, was engaging and kept her amused with his witty repartee. They enjoyed the talents of a traveling troupe of musicians and following the meal, dancing began. It was not acceptable for Madeline to join in due to her state of mourning, a fact that did not displease her. She had not the heart for such frivolities. The queen also remained in her seat, due to the swelling evidence of the child she carried.
After a few moments spent watching the dancing, she leaned across the king's empty chair and spoke to Madeline. "Does he know of the babe?" she asked quietly with a small, resigned smile.
Madeline stammered at the unexpected question. "I know not of which you speak," she demurred.
An expression of astuteness far too mature for the queen's young age crossed her face. "A woman can tell these things," she said. "And if not, very little can be kept hidden in a castle."
Madeline flushed and turned her guilty gaze away from the woman. "Nay, he does not yet know," she answered honestly without guile.
"Have I any need to be wary of you madam?" the queen enquired softly.
"Indeed not!" Madeline insisted. "Rest confident in his devotion to you, your Grace. And be assured that I, and any others who come after me, are nothing but passing fancies. No match for the constant abiding love he carries for you."
"Well spoken, countess," the young queen nodded graciously. "I accept your words and harbour you no malice."
Madeline dipped her head, relieved. They spoke not again during the evening.
Such are we now.
Ah! may our hope forecast
Indeed one hour again,
when on this stream
Of darkened love
once more the light shall gleam?
An hour how slow to come,
how quickly past,
Which blooms and fades,
and only leaves at last,
Faint as shed flowers,
the attenuated dream.
~Dante Gabriel Rossetti
CHAPTER 28
Madeline resolved on Twelfth Night that the time had come to tell Edward. D
uring their most recent interlude in Rosamund's bower he had teased her about eating too many sweets. But whilst she was not yet prepared to announce her closely guarded secret to the court, her condition had become challenging to hide. She had little fear of the queen divulging her state, but that was a confidence she didn't grant any other courtier, and it would not do for Edward to learn of it from someone other than herself. And so, when he summoned her that eve, she was determined not to give way to her anxieties, but to disclose to him the fact that she was with child.
* * *
Christmas festivities had prevented the king from frequent visits to Rosamund's bower of late. Thus, when Madeline stepped through the door into the intimate boudoir that eve, he stood before her with a beatific smile on his face and his arms extended.
"My Rosamund," he cried, gathering her into his arms and nuzzling at her hair. "How I have missed our visits here! And how tedious to have you sitting beside me at each meal and yet not able to touch you."
By now, Madeline had become accustomed to the king's earnest affections, as well as his sensuous embrace, but on this occasion she found herself tensed and unable to relax.
Sensing her uncommon nervousness, he held her at arm's length and sought her eye. "What is it that troubles you, my Rosamund?" he enquired of her.
Madeline pulled away from his hold and walked to stand before the fire. The distance allowed her to compose her thoughts.
"There is a matter of which I must apprise you Edward," she began hesitantly, her back to the king.