Telepathy of Hearts (5 page)

The two men laughed heartily, telling lewd stories of how The Goat of Leicester, as they knew the Earl to be nic
k
named, had been driven by his libido, infamous for his lust and the lengths he would go to service his appetite for sex. His avarice for the ladies had caused him to find himself in the most unsavoury of positions.

“Oh Matheus, remember at Warwick
Castle? The Goat got into the Dowager Duchess
's bed mistaking it for that of her granddaughter and was fair beaten by her maid.
” Richard was nearly crying with laughter as he spoke

“Yes
,
it was quite a night,
” Matheus replied, already a
b
sorbed in his memories. How could he forget? That was the night he had met Elizabeth.
Cupid had taken his heart, and the sight of Elizabeth had taken his soul. Much to the King
'
s displeasure, they were wed five weeks later to the day. His Majesty had plans for both Elizabeth and Matheus and their betrothal to each other had not been one of them. He smiled to himself. The King had relented, not accepting the ma
r
riage
—but having been charmed by the lovely Elizabeth he had in time blessed it.

“Matheus, are you dreaming of your wedding night? You have that look of a lover lost.
” Richard was eager to celebrate or drown his sorrows perhaps. His voice raised as he encouraged his friend to make ready.
“
Come on, there is whoring to be done and ale to be drunk.
”

“Why do you call them so, Richard? No woman is a whore. They may spend their sorry life upon their backs, held by the weight of our groins and invaded by our shafts. But as much as I love their touch and delight in the pleasure of my body in theirs, I know they work to feed their bairns. Too many husbands failed to come back from battle. And in time, many a goodly woman has found herself mounted just to buy bread to feed the babies the dead have left behind.
” Matheus spoke with a smile of friendship. But his words were well meant. He would not deny it. He loved the feel of a woman beneath him. The smell of her hair and the softness of her skin. Delectable curves decorated with freckles if a man was lucky, peach to the touch if he was even more fo
r
tuitous.

But it was not, and never could be, like laying with the woman you loved. There was no feeling on earth like it.

For when I had made love to the woman I craved
—
Elizabeth
—s
he had held my heart,
and it
undid me. I was lost to her.

When he lay with her, he found magic in the world about him, even in the smallest of things. Bereft without her
,
f
ive years had done little to dull the ache and lessen the pain.

Perhaps
this woman, this Eleanor of Lancaster, who I will soon call wif
e w
ill gentle that pain.

“
Come now,
Plato, let
's go play. That mouth of yours
…it would seem it will close better around the lips of a flagon than a wench.
” Richard winked as he spoke

“I will be back presently. I am just going to take the hares to the kitchens to save the lad.
” Matheus spoke off-
handedly and with feigned truth. His curiosity nibbled at him, chiding him to slip into
Court and se
e the Lady Eleanor for himself.

He deposited his game with the delighted cook and slipped through to the throne room. It was awash with finery and high voices. Matheus wrinkled his nose and pinched his brow.
“Swine in silk. More court jester than nobles.
”

Then he saw her. His face stilled and his breath shar
p
ened. Sitting at the King
's knee was Eleanor. Speechless, he studied her intently: the oval face and almond eyes that do
m
inated it, her flaxen mane of golden curls that cascaded, quite undressed with no pins, pearls or braiding.

Tis true you are indeed quite a beauty, Eleanor of La
n
caster for you look like your features have been carved with such artistry. You are no Kobold but are sure to be a seraph. For you must have come from the
H
eavens.

For a moment that passed so quickly, he felt it. His heart fluttered as they caught each other
's eyes, his hinting from the gaze that he had recognised an inamorata. He put his hand to his chest as if he was sure he would find an outline. They mimicked each other
's actions quite accidently, Ele
a
nor lifting her hand so her palm also rested on her chest.

An hour later Matheus was ready to ride. He did not comment to Richard Sline on how enchanting he had found her nor the fact he had even seen the Lady Eleanor.

He was unsure of his emotions, whether he was jealous of even others thinking of her, or was he just protective of the duty that befell him. Matheus was not used to such em
o
tion and was cursing under his breath, much to Richard Sline
's amusement.

“Are you still in your pulpit, Matheus? I hear damnation in your mutterings. You should have become a priest and saved your brother. Young Alfred has often a rise in his ca
s
sock, even at vespers when the ladies rise from their seats above us.
”

Matheus shook his head. Richard Sline had a libido the size of The Old Goat he derided
.
Just as he was mounting his horse, he looked up. There at the window was Eleanor. She was sat reading. Matheus felt a pull in his chest.

Poor child? What kind of beating must she have e
n
dured to force her agreement? At eighteen, she should be b
e
trothed. It was right and proper for her to honour her pa
r
ents and her House and deliver a child. But she must be mighty fearful of marriage and perhaps the marriage bed even, if she had needed a whipping to force her hand.

His eyes lingered a little on her, delighting in her bea
u
ty, the gentle curve of her nose, the flush of her cheeks and the fullness of her lips. Her cheeks were less rosy than earl
i
er
—the stripes of her tears had lessened.

You are a fair maiden, Eleanor. Quite a vision sitting there, the type poets write beautiful prose about, and you
will
call me husband.

There was a change in Matheus. Looking at the woman who would be his wife, he had stopped thinking about all the reasons why their betrothal could not work and started to find reasons for it to flourish. He let himself imagine pulling her into his arms. Blood surged hot through his veins at the thought of her. His mind had her caged beneath him. His mouth pressed against her full lips and his hands in her hair. Everything south of his waist acknowledged a sudden need of her.

Eleanor turned to look at him, and Matheus remembered the King
's words.
“She has my sister
's eyes. They look at you like the doe does when you corner her in the hunt. There is a magic in them, almost as if the deer bids you not to pull your bow, and you drop your aim. They speak a mystic tongue, leaving you powerless. A man could lose his soul in those hazel eyes.
”

Eleanor was the first to look away. He watched her flinch, putting her hand to her chest. She was experiencing it too.

Shyly, her soft eyes turned back to catch his gaze.

And he answered her silently.

Eleanor,
there is a telepathy in hearts.

Wiping his face with his hands, he shook his head, tr
y
ing to dismiss the passion she had awoken in a hungry heart. Urging his mount on, he looked back over his shoulder, thinking she would be watching him ride away. But Eleanor had left the window, and it grieved him a little.

“Ah, do I see Matheus, the Bull of Lincoln, has been bewitched?
” There was more of a grimace than a smile on Richard
's face as he spoke

Matheus was sharp with his reply.
“Hell for damnation no man
… She cries at a mild thrashing and hides below those thick lashes. With her hazel eyes as big as a fawns, it
's as if the world would break her just to look at it
…I will bed her and be done with it. Delivering a child to the House of Lancaster as The Bull that I am. That maiden, I fear, is too weak a woman for me.
”

It seemed Richard was not fooled by the tone or the words that Matheus spoke.
“Well, those are the words of a man lost and looking for reason.
”

Eleanor watched the menfolk leave. Her betrothed
's destrier was a beautiful mount. The colour of the darkest night, its glossy coat shone deep purple. As if painted, it sported four white socks and a blaze on its face. She watched the mount and rider disappear while hidden in the safety of the curtains.

The intensity of his gaze upon her had unsettled her. It wasn
't the blueness of their stare or the pinch of his brow as his look did not waiver. It was the power of it, the pure pa
s
sion. No eyes had looked at her so before, not even E
d
mund
's. There had been a base desire in his gaze that had awakened something deep in her, and she had no idea what. She-
wolf or not it frightened her.

Eleanor wanted to run away from the uncomfortable feelings that tickled her nerves and swelled in her belly. Her blood was pounding through her veins. Her mouth had b
e
come dry and the gait of her walk shaky.

Dear God, if his stare unsettles me so
…how frightening will his touch be?

He had entered her mind. Her body felt the wracking anguish of her own awakening from girl to woman. And the pain and bewilderment had only just started. She yearned to be riding away from the palace as the men had done. Far away from betrothals, the birch of Lady Bruce, and that i
n
trusive stare.

When she could escape her jailors, she would often br
i
dle her mount. Her beloved Arthur would be her accomplice. Ever willing, he aided and abetted his mistress in most of her adventures. Saddleless, she would ride him daringly astride. Her gown gaping and flapping as the wind took the fabric. Her hair unpinned and upbraided. Bare legs gripping on his flanks. Their adventures would take them far from the city walls. Up to where the earth kissed the sky. High above the town to where the lakes were.

Arthur
's dappled grey coat would blend perfectly into the heather. The pair would be nearly impossible to find. In time, Eleanor
's jailers stopped searching. Often she would wave at them as she rode away.

Sometimes Eleanor would strip from her skirts and smock and swim in the lakes quite naked. The water
felt
as silk, cool to the skin. If it was bitter and the wind cold as it blew through the wilds of the Kendal hills, she would pin up her skirts and hunt rabbits with the hounds, tracking them across the algid snow.