She could only pray that her sister was talking with her usual
bravado and swagger, the better to hide her true feelings lest she
seem vulnerable to love and romance just like other women. By all
accounts, Matthew Guilford was a paragon. How could any woman not
fall in love with him, even the willful Topaz?
Topaz's wedding day bloomed with a quilting of sunshine illuminating
the clouds that billowed out like a galloping range of mountains.
The trees were unleashing their papery leaves, carpeting the castle
grounds with a matting of red and gold.
The great hall sparkled with Warwick Castle's magnificent array of
plate. Trestle tables lined the length of the hall, covered with
linen cloths threaded with gold. The drinking bowls, goblets, ewers
and basins glittered in the glow of hundreds of candles adorning the
chandeliers and sprouting from the ornate candlesticks on each
table.
The butler was laying the high table with gold cloth and set the
salt cellar just below the middle of the board. He arranged the
embroidered linen napkins along with the splendid golden plate.
The coppery checkerboard tile floor shone like a mirror, reflecting
each burst of candlelight. The massive stone fireplace, graced with
a gargoyle on each side, housed the crackling logs. Sparks spewed
forth and died within the fire's luster.
It was an autumn wedding, decorated with an autumn theme. Huge
cutouts of leaves made from cloth of gold hung from the gallery and
fluttered as the servants scurried about. On each table was a horn
of plenty, a cornucopia of plump grapes, apples, nuts from Spain and
colorful nubby gourds.
Into the tiltyard came the bride-ale, the wedding procession led by
the bridegroom and sixteen lads from Kenilworth Village wearing blue
bridelace and sprigs of broom tied round their arms.
They were followed by a party of Morris dancers, accompanied by men
playing tabor and drum, Maid Marion and Michael, the village fool.
Three pretty maids came after them, carrying spiced bridal cakes,
and a village lad bore the bride cup full of sweetmeats, decorated
with broom and streamers.
Finally Topaz arrived atop a white stallion liveried in gold with
the Warwick crest, the bear and ragged staff, gleaming in the
sunlight as the horse's graceful muscles shifted in his noble
stride.
She felt like the queen today.
This must be what it's like
,
she thought,
to be the center of attention, with all eyes gaping
at her magnificence.
One word entered her mind and stayed there—
power
. Today she
was getting her first taste of real power, and it engulfed her like
the desire she surrendered to at Matthew's caresses. Nay, it was
even more potent.
In the tiltyard, the village lads tilted at a quintain, a heavy bag
hung on a pole which they could swing round, knocking over an unwary
tilter. As their excitement grew, they abandoned the quintain and
began to run at each other.
When the noon sun had reached its zenith, it was time for the actual
ceremony to begin.
Inside the small chapel sat the immediate family in the carved
wooden pews. Candles glowed in the chandelier above, sending their
warmth to the arched stained glass windows above the altar. The reds
and greens of the glass rondels flooded the chapel with their
radiance.
With Matthew at her side gazing at her, Topaz stood at the altar
before the priest, who was draped in white robes. She smiled up at
her groom, enormously pleased with herself. He was indeed a prize
worth having, if only to make sure no one else could enjoy him, she
thought with an inward grin of triumph over all the other women who
had tried to catch his attention at the Yuletide season and failed
utterly.
Matthew spoke his marriage vows as if reciting a prayer. She echoed
them, her voice calm and resonant, but she was miles away, thinking
ahead to the day she would hold her son in her arms. His name would
be Edward. Edward Plantagenet Gilford. Edward the Sixth one day
soon, after her own glorious reign as queen.
They swept down the aisle, the newest man and wife in the kingdom.
Topaz's satin gown shimmered in splendor; her butterfly head-dress
fluttering around her coppery hair as they glided through the
corridors to the great hall.
The guests poured into the hall, and the marshal seated them at
their proper places. Then the sumptuous feasting began.
The minstrels played lively rondos and humoresques throughout the
feast of traditional autumn dishes of stock fish and red herring,
fresh from the ocean. From the river they'd procured salt-eels and
salmon.
Topaz smiled in contentment as her new husband satiated his healthy
appetite. She took pride in her garden gatherings as Matthew
complimented her on the delicious array of peas, squash, corn, and
carrots seasoned with cloves, ginger, saffron, and mustard. At the
end of each course, a magnificent confection of sugar, eggs and
pastry was borne to the table, shaped to represent the Holy Trinity
watching over Topaz and Matthew.
She was touched at her family thinking of such a thing, but in her
own mind, she was master of her fate now. No man, and no God would
keep her from her true destiny now.
Her bold opinions were more apparent when she once again insisted
that there was to be no bedding ceremony. None of Matthew's
attendants accompanied him to the bridal chamber singing bawdy
tunes, preparing him for his wedding night.
Topaz had always considered the tradition degrading to the sacrament
of marriage, and especially to the bride, and would have none of it.
The bride and groom simply mounted their palfreys and rode back to
their new home at Kenilworth, leaving the merrymakers still enjoying
the festivities, and Amethyst watching after the couple pensively.
Topaz had not requested her or her sister or mother's assistance in
any way, though surely the comfort of another woman at such a time
would be considered by most women to be a blessing.
She knew nothing of her sister's new husband other than that he was
comely above all others she had ever seen and every woman in the
district had vied for his love. She prayed that he would be kind to
her sister and that all would be well on their wedding night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matthew brought two silver goblets over to the fire where Topaz lay
luxuriating on a pile of feather pillows, her hair splayed out like
a fiery sunburst around her.
She sat up to take one goblet and clinked it against her husband's.
"I hope to be breeding as of tonight, my lord," she said, her voice
lilting in anticipation.
"Tonight?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. "That would be a
noble feat indeed!"
"It would be, but I doubt your prowess not one bit, my lord," she
replied. Topaz ran her gaze up and down her husband. She observed
him from where she sat. She was exactly at eye level with his nether
region.
He lowered himself to his knees to tend the fire, and she
scrutinized his every feature with discerning female curiosity. The
hair was dark blond, gently brushing the top of his collar. He
glanced at her and a smile touched his light green eyes. The lips
were barely parted but behind them she could see a row of gleaming
white teeth.
A jagged gash interrupted the smoothness of his jawline. He was
desirable, Topaz thought, and she displayed a racy grin as her body
warmed to the thought of Matthew hard and demanding against her,
wanting her, begging her as so many other men had done…
He stretched indulgently and lay next to his new wife as she ran her
hand over his nightshirt of fine Holland cloth, the fabric straining
against his muscles.
"We shall create many beautiful children. We have time aplenty, our
entire lives ahead of us. Oh, my darling," he soothed, stroking her
hair. "I want to give you all the splendid comforts in my power to
give you, as well as all the love in my heart. There will be plenty
of time for children once we get to enjoy each other–"
"A son. I want a son who looks just like you," she urged throatily.
"What of a girl like her lovely mother," he said with a smile.
"A son first. An heir."
"I am not in my dotage yet, my love–"
"Life is so uncertain," she said, her tone chill. "We need a son."
Flattered at her instance, he let his own desires off the tight rein
he had held them upon for the sake of his virgin bride. "Aye, a son,
my love. Anything to please my lady."
"You are truly one of a kind, Matthew." And she knew he was. In a
land of political alliances secured by wedding vows, love was as
rare as spun gold. He held her tightly, and she'd never known such
comfort as she was feeling in this man's arms. She wrapped her arms
around him and let his warmth seep into her.
He gently caressed her arms with his fingertips and slowly met her
lips. She responded instantly to his penetrating warmth. Closing her
eyes, she caught the faint scent of his hair and pressed her body to
his as her arms encircled his waist.
Her lips tingled from that teasing, too-short kiss as her fingers
laced round his neck and she pulled him back down to her. Searching
his lips, wanting desperately to reclaim them, she whispered,
"Matthew, I want you now..."
He cut off her words with another urgent, demanding kiss as they
locked in a tight embrace, his mouth covering hers hotly.
He gently cradled her head in his hand. As she lay on her back,
gazing at the sliver of moon through half-open eyes, he removed her
clothing piece by piece, more quickly than she could have done
herself. She reached out and stroked his hair.
In an instant he was naked, beside her. His hands were touching her
everywhere at once, gently at first, then becoming more probing and
urgent as she began to respond.
She ran her hand over his body, sensing his need. He explored her
with his mouth, flicking his tongue over her ears, her neck, her
breasts, and she tried to pull him closer, to feel his body against
hers, in hers.
Suddenly he stopped and she caught her breath. Miniature volcanoes
were erupting everywhere he'd touched her. He reached over to the
table next to them and grabbed a small white jar. He opened the lid
and waved it under her nose like a perfume bottle. She detected the
faint aroma of mint.
"This is creamy and wet and will taste wonderful," he said softly,
as he dipped a finger into the jar and stirred the contents with a
slow, circular motion.
"What is it?" She moved her leg and a warm stream of moisture
tickled the backs of her thighs. Desperately wanting him to touch
her again, she rotated her hips towards him as he lowered himself to
her side.
"'Tis a special mixture of honey, herbs, and oils of hyacinth and
sunflower, and will ease your pain, for I must break your
maidenhead," he whispered, taking his finger out of the jar and
smoothing the creamy substance between her breasts and all the way
down to her navel. It felt cool and slippery.
He put his head down and with his tongue ran over the line he'd made
with the cream, rubbing more over her body. He spread it over her
breasts, down her stomach and between her thighs. It seemed to get
warmer to the touch, and hotter still when he ran his tongue over
where he'd creamed her. Her body was a pillar of fire, her breath
ragged and gasping as he halted his oral caresses and sat upright.
"Here...take some." He handed her the jar. She dipped her finger
into the soft cream and eagerly stroked his body with it. He gently
drew her to him and she started kissing and licking his chest,
savoring the delicious sweetness of honey. His body was slippery as
he pressed against her.
He moaned softly as she fondled him and took gentle laps of the
cream like a kitten with a bowl of milk. As the delicate fragrance
whirled round them, he laid her on her back once more. She saw cones
of light through the windows as his head brushed against her
breasts, her belly, then farther down until he was between her
thighs. Wrapping her legs around his neck, she felt her entire body
pulsating from that one central point.
When he lifted his head, she reached for him. She guided him to her
ready opening, wrapped herself around his lean body and took him in,
bit by bit. As he gently but determinedly probed against her
maidenhead, she thought again of the son she so longed for.
A
brief pain tonight is a small price to pay for the future I
deserve
, she reasoned.
Then all reasoning gave way as Topaz slid her hands down the length
of his broad back, gripped the taut flesh of his buttocks, and
pressed him to her. He moaned with pleasure as the barrier was
breached, and they rocked against each other until they exploded
together in a fit of passionate agony.
They lay touching on the soft pillows, her hand stroking his damp
body. He was one solid wall of muscle, the product of many years of
vigorous athletic training. His physique was powerful and
commanding, yet smooth as marble and graceful in movement.