by Speer, Flora
She sat bolt upright, shaking with nerves, not certain what was expected of her next. Quentin put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side.
“I now consider us legally wed,” Quentin declared.
“Not so fast,” said Father Aymon. With a smile that suggested he knew exactly how eager the newlyweds were to be alone, he quickly blessed the bridal chamber, the bed, and the couple in the bed. He concluded with a brief prayer for a happy and fruitful marriage.
“Now you are legally wed, and properly bedded,” Father Aymon said to Quentin. Then he winked at Quentin and departed, leaving Fionna gaping after him.
“A wise man, my chaplain,” Royce said. “Let us follow his example. Goodnight, children.” Royce held the bedchamber door wide, obviously expecting everyone to exit the room. Outside the door men-at-arms and squires crowded the corridor, all of them craning their necks for a glimpse of the bridal pair, so they could claim to be witnesses to the bedding.
“Are all Norman weddings so – so boisterous?” Janet asked Catherine as they passed through the doorway.
“Some are worse,” Catherine responded.
Royce pulled the door shut before Fionna could hear what Janet said to that.
Quentin leapt out of bed to bolt the door, then turned back to Fionna. He regarded her with a worried expression.
“Surely, you know I’d never hurt you,” he said, “yet you look like a trapped deer awaiting the huntsman’s knife.”
“It’s overwhelming.” Fionna’s throat was so dry that her voice was a husky whisper. “Quentin, I am sorry I’ve brought you to this.”
“You have brought me to the place where I want to be,” he said. In a much sterner voice he demanded, “What’s really wrong, Fionna?”
“I don’t know how to be the chatelaine of a great castle,” she confessed. “I don’t know how to be a Norman nobleman’s wife. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you, or humiliate you before your Norman friends.”
“Alney is not a great castle, no matter what the pastry cook made it out to be,” Quentin said. “You will never disappoint me, because you are Fionna – my Fionna. As for humiliating me, Lord Walter and Lady Agnes are very fond of you, and Royce admires your courage and your love for Janet. In fact, Royce loves you as if you were another daughter.”
“Other nobles may not be so generous.”
“I do not care about other nobles.” Quentin knelt on the bed. “Do you regret marrying me?”
“Quentin, I love you!” Perversely, it was her very love for him that made her so frightened and so worried that she’d fail him.
“I am glad to hear you say the words. Now, my dearest wife,” Quentin continued, stripping back the sheet to leave Fionna naked and trembling before him, “are you going to force me to wait until sunrise, as Agnes made poor Walter wait?”
“As I understand that story, it was the other way around,” Fionna protested, sudden laughter bubbling to her lips as the fear began to recede.
“Was it?” Quentin murmured. “I find the tale of Walter’s supposed drunkenness somewhat suspect. Don’t you? Do you imagine Lady Agnes, loving Walter as she does, would have lain quietly beside him all night long, just waiting for him to waken, so they could consummate their marriage?”
“I don’t believe it for a moment,” Fionna said. She must remember to thank Lady Agnes for relating the improbable story. Laughing about it with Quentin had relaxed her.
“Neither do I believe it.” Quentin stretched himself out next to Fionna so that his long frame was touching her from shoulder to toe. He rested his head on one hand and slid his free arm across her just below her bosom. The hair on his forearm tickled the lower curves of her breasts.
Fionna turned her head to look at him and found his face just inches from hers. He was watching her mouth. She licked her dry lips. A heartbeat later she felt his male hardness nudging at her thigh.
“You do have an interesting effect on me,” he murmured.
Deliberately, she licked her lips again, and smiled at his immediate reaction. In response, a lovely warmth began to blossom deep inside her.
“I cannot stop it, or control it in any way,” Quentin said. “It only happens so urgently with you, Fionna. It has been that way since the first time I took you into my arms, by Liddel Water. I was ashamed of myself for wanting you so much.”
“Quentin.” She touched his face, tracing the fine, strong bones of his cheek and chin. “Oh, Quentin, I love you with all my heart. But I am so afraid of disappointing you.”
“Never,” he said. “Never, so long as you love me. You and your constant love are all that matter to me.”
She slid her hand to his nape, to pull him toward her. His mouth met hers in a warm, sweet promise and suddenly she wasn’t afraid any longer. Laughter and Quentin’s gentleness had banished the last of her qualms.
Quentin loved her slowly, tenderly, until she was aching for his possession. When he finally made her his, she understood it was a holy thing they were doing, a blessed, unbreakable joining of man and woman, of husband and wife. In the moment when Quentin’s body became one with hers, their hearts and souls became one as well.
Fionna didn’t expect the future to be easy or simple. Quentin might count love above all else, but not all of his Norman friends would accept her, for she was only a Scottish lass, the sister of two treacherous men. But she and Quentin did love each other dearly, and surely that counted for something. As he ceased to be gentle and unleashed the full force of his passion upon her, carrying her with him to a brief, ecstatic vision of heaven, Fionna decided that love would be enough, after all.
Epilogue
Two days after their wedding, under bright and sunny skies, Fionna and Quentin departed Wortham Castle for Alney. Janet went with them. They were escorted by half a dozen of Royce’s men-at-arms, Quentin’s own men having gone home weeks ago.
An hour later, Lord Walter and Lady Agnes left Wortham, heading north to Carlisle.
“Come to the office when you have a moment free,” Royce said to Catherine as they returned to the great hall. “I have something important to say to you.”
“I’ll join you now,” Catherine said, linking her arm through his.
They reached the small room used by the secretary who assisted Royce in managing his estates. Royce threw open the shuttered window to reveal leather bound account books piled on the shelves and a wide table littered with the paraphernalia of writing.
“Close the door and be sure no one is listening,” Royce ordered his daughter.
He did not take the seat behind the table. Instead, he pushed aside a few scraps of parchment, a knife for trimming parchment leaves into even sizes or for cutting quills into pens, a sifter full of sand for blotting wet ink, and the inkpot, before he perched on the edge of the table. He watched in silence while Catherine shut the door and turned to face him.
“What can be so important, and so secret?” Catherine asked. “Father, do you mean to marry again? Is that it?”
“I will not remarry,” Royce stated bluntly. “Not ever.”
“You haven’t betrothed me to someone have you?” Catherine actually looked frightened at the possibility. “I do not wish to marry, either.”
“You are not betrothed,” Royce said, and noticed with a pang at his heart how she relaxed at his words. Catherine imagined he didn’t know, but he had learned years ago about her childhood devotion to the son of the lord of the castle where she had been fostered. The boy had left England for the Holy Land and Catherine was determined to wait until he returned before she considered marriage. With his own son in the Holy Land, Royce wasn’t eager to lose his remaining child, so he hadn’t insisted that Catherine marry. Now he was doubly glad he’d kept her at home well past the age for girls to wed.
“This has nothing to do with marriage,” he told her. “In the next few years I will have to be absent from Wortham more often than I have been recently. King Henry has need of my services.” He
thought that was explanation enough. He should have known that Catherine would have other ideas.
“I know you were once a spy for King Henry,” she said. “Has he asked you to resume your activities?”
“I am too old for active spying,” Royce said, and tried to ignore Catherine’s snort of disbelief. At least she hadn’t guessed that his new assignment was entirely his idea. “However, I am not too old to supervise younger men. I’m sorry, Catherine, but I can reveal no more to you.”
“I understand,” Catherine said. “Since you went to Scotland, you are a changed man. I am glad of it, and it’s good to hear you laughing again, but I don’t want you in danger.”
“Never fear,” Royce told her. “Most of the time I will be at court, where I intend to sit by the fireside while I send other men into danger. I’m going to take William with me when I leave. Can you manage here without either of us?”
“I managed very well recently, while the two of you were gone,” Catherine said. She put out both hands to him and Royce wrapped his long fingers around her dainty ones.
“I will keep Wortham safe for you, Father. Come home whenever you can. I will miss you.”
Royce caught her against his chest, so he wouldn’t have to see her tears and regret what he was doing.
“Dear Catherine,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I promise, I will return to Wortham as often as I can.”
He knew he’d miss Wortham. He’d miss Catherine more. But the thought of the work on which he was embarking filled him with an excitement that he hadn’t felt for too many years and had feared he’d never feel again. To his surprise, Royce found he was no longer looking backward to recall what he had lost when Avisa died. At last, after so long, he was looking forward. Holding Catherine close to his heart, with a faint smile of contentment curving his lips, the baron of Wortham contemplated his future prospects and knew he had made the right decision.
About the Author
Flora Speer is the traditionally published author of twenty full-length novels and two novellas. She writes historical, futuristic, and time-travel romances. Born in southern New Jersey, she now lives in Connecticut. Among her favorite activities are doing research for the next book, which is always fun, gardening (especially herbs and flowers used in medieval gardens) and amateur astronomy. She firmly believes in space travel and wishes the U.S. would restart its manned space program, which was not only exciting to follow, but often provided great ideas for her futuristic romances.
“Love Above All” is the prequel to a series of medieval romances, all published on Smashwords, in which a group of young men who have no prospects in life still manage to achieve remarkable results by valor and intelligence. Each man also finds and wins the one woman who is as dauntless and determined as he, equally capable of a deep and lasting love.
“Love Above All” is the answer to a writer friend who asked how these young men ever got together and how they learned of the challenges to come.
Connect with this author:
Web site: www.floraspeer.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Other books by Flora Speer, all now available at Smashwords:
HISTORICAL ROMANCES:
By Honor Bound
Much Ado About Love
The Viking Passion
For Love And Honor
Rose Red
Castle of Dreams
Castle of the Heart
Two Turtledoves (Christmas Novella)
TIME-TRAVEL:
Twelfth Night (Christmas Novella)
Christmas Carol
A Time to Love Again
A Love Beyond Time
Timestruck
Love Just in Time
Love Once and Forever (also paranormal)
PARANORMAL – Medieval Magic:
Heart’s Magic
The Magician’s Lover
A Passionate Magic
Love Once and Forever (also time-travel)
FUTURISTIC ROMANCES:
Venus Rising
Destiny’s Lovers
No Other Love
Lady Lure
ORIGINAL E-BOOKS:
Lord Royce’s Knights series:
So Great A Love
Cast Love Aside
True Love
Where Love Has Gone
Love Everlasting
Love Above All (prequel to Lord Royce’s Knights)
And a Romantic Fantasy series:
Coming in late 2015
The Secret Heart
The Fire of the Soul
The Anvil of the Mind
And, in 2016:
“All The Fine Realms,” a historical saga set
In the days of Charlemagne