"Edward Brampton?"
"Aye; he's the one. He would make a fitting second in command. I
shall make my initial approach to the Italian galleons. You did
say they were neutral, darling?"
"Aye, Edward Woodville said they were. They're also the two
biggest ships in the fleet."
"Grand! I shall start there. A few tankards of
vino
, a banquet,
some lively repartee, I'll have them siding with us in no time!"
"God's truth, Val, don't you ever stop thinking about food?"
Richard quipped as the two of them strode out of the chamber.
"Wait!" Denys called after them. "What about this invalid—"
"Shhh!" Richard called over his shoulder. "I shall talk to you
after vespers, but until then, not a word!"
Staring after the two friends as they strolled off as though they
did not have a care in the world, she closed her eyes and put her
head in her hands. Too shaken to think clearly, she rested for a
moment and almost unthinkingly found herself riding back to
Westminster Abbey, away from all the commotion, the bustling
courtiers, and the sweaty bodies.
This time she stopped at Edward the Confessor's ancient chapel.
Grayish yellow carved pillars met in arches all around her,
gracing the tombs of past kings and their queens and in the center
rested Edward the Confessor.
She knelt beside his tomb, its low archways cut into an elaborate
carved block of stone, its Latin etchings worn with age, and
prayed for the man who might become king—and for his closest
councillor. In the space of only a few hours, their whole world
had been turned upside down. She prayed to the Lord that Richard
gaining a kingdom would not mean the loss of all she held most
dear.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Vespers had just ended and Valentine was on his way to Kent. Denys
watched the worshipers file out of the chapel and she went to the
front to join Richard once everyone had gone.
"He will be all right," was the first thing he said to her.
"Oh, I hope so, Richard. ‘Tis the first time he's gone to battle
without you."
"‘Tis hardly a battle, Dove. ‘Tis simply a peace mission.
Negotiation. What he's best at and what I'm worst at. Aside from
those old sea dogs I chose to accompany him, no one fits the part
better, especially for bargaining with Italians!"
"Still, with all that's happening here—"
"Some day we may have to go into battle again, and even fight on
separate battlefields...but on the same side, of course." The
composure in his voice told her that he trusted Valentine
completely, and only good times were ahead. "All will be well, I
promise."
"I've been doing naught but praying that you're right."
"So how fares your marriage? Have you begun to detect Val's gentle
qualities?"
She smiled gently. "We all know he's got some. The real Valentine
is a kind and loving man yearning to please."
"So you realize he is not as unbearable as you once believed?"
"Aye, he has been much more attentive of late." She smiled
secretly at the memory of his touch, his fiery hot kisses, his
hard body against hers...
"I knew he would be," Richard replied.
"But you were right. His need to prove himself does get the best
of him at times." She mentally reviewed his constant quest to be
the best. She felt a rush of tenderness for her husband, a deep
attachment she'd never felt for anyone before.
"But that is his more delicate side, Richard. It renders him
vulnerable. It serves to make him more human."
"I am sure it will never destroy him. But you are his wife now,
Dove, and as such you must help him. We men cannot always be
strong, although we appear to be on the outside. You must make
sure his weaknesses do not undermine him or your marriage."
"How do I do that?"
Richard shrugged one shoulder. "By loving him, my dear. Simply by
loving him, just as I said before, do not merely tell him, show
him. Do that by making him feel that he is the single most
important person in your life."
They shared a smile and once again, just like those long ago days.
It felt wonderful, this warm bond of friendship which endured,
even through the most tumultuous events in the kingdom.
"Does he not look at you in that special way?"
She gave a pert toss of her head."He told me he likes the looks of
my arse, but I haven't eyes in the back of my head to see how he
looks at it."
Richard laughed heartily. "You must share special moments, like on
those dark cold nights when drafts whistle through the house, does
he not keep you warm and safe? Does he not comfort you when you
are feeling ill, or lend sympathy to your female moods, or
appreciate the way you run the household? Is he not attentive to
you? He beams like the sun when he looks at you, I can see it. And
I do not mean when he is looking at your breech. He risked all to
help you find your parentage. He is forever grateful that he was
lucky enough to win you."
Her gaze shifted from Richard's eyes inward to her soul, and she
pondered what he'd said.
How clever her old friend was. Valentine
did
look at her like
no man ever had before— his eyes did light up like beacons when he
looked at her.
He was supercilious at times, at times he was downright brash,
but...
"I can see how much you love him."
Denys would have hidden her smile from anyone else, but with
Richard, she needed to hide nothing. "Oh, Richard, you were so
right, you made me see my true feelings. I really love him, with
all my heart. But we went from Yorkshire gentry to this..."
She waved a hand in the direction of the palace. "...with you
practically on the throne and Valentine literally running the
kingdom with you. ‘Tis all so scary. You both...you have some
formidable enemies out there."
"Do not be afraid." Richard's fingers drummed his prayer book.
"I'm not. Of all the people in the world for me to fear, the man I
love like my own brother is the closest to me."
"It all happened so fast, Richard. It was like lightning struck us
all and hurled us here, and here we are sitting in the palace, and
you where I'd always seen Uncle Ned, literally filling his shoes,
but one step from the throne."
"You think we were struck like lightning, I feel like I got here
between blinks of my eyes, it happened so fast." He shook his
head.
"But this invalid marriage of Edward's and Elizabeth's… That was
the most stunning blow of all. How on earth did this come about?"
He explained about Bishop Stillington's revelation, the stark
disbelief with which he'd read the Patent Rolls that Valentine had
stumbled upon in his search for her real family and had brought to
his attention.
It was all too much for her to take in after everything that
happened in the last few weeks. Her heart racing, her mouth dry,
she searched his eyes. They looked dark and pensive. She was
already exhausted by the devastating chain of events. She asked
the question she dreaded most, but she had to hear the truth.
"Does this mean you are England's next King?"
He nodded, his steady gaze not leaving hers. She detected the hint
of a smile.
"There's no one else of legitimate claim so close to the throne."
"I can't believe it."
His eyes lightened and he cocked his head. "Aha, you speak
treason, wench! I shall drag you to the block and the mob will
cheer when your severed head rolls into the blood-soaked basket!"
She did not laugh at his morbid humor. "You know what I mean,
Richard." She shuddered.
"I know. But better me than George, would you not say?"
"Not that I ever wished him dead, but you are right." She shivered
again.
"But you are right—all I can hope for is Valentine's safe return
and an account of his triumphant negotiations. Then he'll be
coming home to this...all this upheaval, and the anguish hits me
so much the harder because it is happening right before my eyes.
This may not be a battlefield, but the council chamber can be so
much more dangerous. Even they are divided, between clergy and
anti-Woodvilles."
"That's why we're working day and night to reach some semblance of
order, to get the government running again, and oust the
Woodvilles once and for all, so we can run things the way Edward
would have wanted. Once my coronation is over, we'll settle into a
pattern of normalcy."
"But that won't be for months."
He looked at her then quickly glanced away. "Sixth of July." She
gasped, realizing how fast all this was really going.
"That is barely a month away!"
"The sooner the better."
"This is like an elopement!"
"Oh, you are laying it on with a trowel! I know exactly what I am
doing. I have but one request of you as my most loyal subject—my
most loyal lady subject, that is." He sat back in the pew and
crossed his legs.
"What is it? I would do anything if I can serve you better."
"Just be a good wife and serve your husband. Leave matters of
state to us. You think I have problems, just wait ‘until Elizabeth
finds out she's got a nest full of illegitimate offspring. It'll
be a real shite-fest then!"
She tried to stifle a giggle, but Richard caught her, and the
corner of his mouth lifted, creasing his cheek as a grin of his
own spread across his face, a face that was much too serious these
days.
Seeing him try to suppress his own grin caused Denys to titter out
loud, softly at first, then joining in his hearty laugh, and both
their voices echoed through the shadowy chapel.
Oh, it felt so good to laugh, to release all that pent-up tension
that had wound them all so tightly for so long.
"When was the last time you really laughed like this?" she said,
wiping her eyes with the end of her sleeve.
"The last time I saw Elizabeth, when she missed the bottom step
and plopped down on her fat prat." This produced another wave of
laughter and she doubled over, holding her sides.
Eventually he sobered. "Fret not, Dove. When all the dust is
settled and we are safely ensconced in our designated roles, the
laughter will flow freely once more in this court."
"I pray so, Richard."
"Just hold your thoughts of Valentine. A prayer or two for him
would not hurt either."
She gave an impatient wave of her hand. "Oh, he believes he needs
no prayers. He cheated the very hands of death just the other day,
and walked away like it was nothing."
"Now, do you not think that is an admirable trait?"
"But he was whisked away to sea before he had a chance to gloat
over it. Just wait ‘until he returns! He will never cease to
flaunt his triumph over the Italian galleon."
"Valentine believes his biggest victory was winning your heart."
"More than his promotion from governor to chief councillor with
the entire court at his command?"
Richard's cocked brow told her the answer.
She gave a demure little smile.
"‘Tis rather quiet without him about, is it not?" he admitted.
"I do hope the Italian sailors appreciate what I've sent them."
"Richard, are there any wenches aboard any of those Woodville
ships?" she asked pensively.
"I think not. If there are, I'm sure they're rather salty by now."
Her heart and mind now at ease thanks to her friend's confidences,
she smiled. "I had best be getting back. There is much to see to
for your special day and my husband's return."
"I'll come with you."
They rose and he escorted her all the way back home.
"Thank you for everything today, and blessings upon you, Anne and
your son. Their lives will be completely transformed by this news
as well."
He patted her on the shoulder. "I know this is not quite the
family you had in mind for yourself when Valentine began to help
you on your quest, but you do know how dear the two of you are to
us all. I can't think of any two people we would rather have share
our good fortune."
She gave a tremulous smile and curtsey. "Aye, fortune, and fate. I
only pray Valentine returns home soon with news of his success.
Otherwise, God help us all."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Valentine quietly let himself into the house in the middle of the
night. She heard the familiar rhythm of his footsteps coming up
the stairs. Throwing on a bed gown, she scrambled out of their
chamber to meet him.
"Oh, Valentine, thank God you are home! Are you wounded at all?"
She ran her hands over his body, not feeling a bandage or any
trace of a wound; just the hard muscles, the powerful arms that
always embraced her so tenderly.
"Nay, we fulfilled our mission rather well." This sounded so
understated, it was almost Richard-like. He must have used up all
the histrionics with the Italians.
"Do tell me!"
"Well, two of Dickon's old sea dogs, John Wellis and Thomas Grey,
went to take command of fortifications at Portsmouth. They
provided stores and armament for our little flotilla. Richard sent
Lord Cobham with a small sea force to Dover and Sandwich to
prepare the ports, just in case of a surprise Woodville attack.
And ‘twas Edward Brampton and I who went to the Downs, where
Woodville's fleet was. Brampton and I did sail forth to the great
Genoese galleon straightaway and simply shouted up to them that we
come in peace—and that we were quite hungry.
"They invited us aboard immediately, methinks out of eagerness to
share some hearty repast with us—we planned it so that we
approached them just at the hour when most people are finishing
their evening meal, so their bellies would be full, and their
minds not as sharp. The captain's name was Colombo. He's a Genoese
explorer. We had quite an engaging tête-à-tête."
The name sounded familiar; she'd heard it somewhere before. Then
it hit her. "Aye, Colombo! He was here once before. George held a
banquet in his honor...well, you know what George used to pass off
as banquets.
Everything available for consumption was of the liquid variety.
The occasion didn't hold enough interest for me to stay and meet
him. I was too rushed that day to go and find the Countess of
Somerset. It was one of my wild goose chases and I was in no state
to attend one of George's quaffing contests."
"Aye, he did mention that rather questionable visit. It seems his
first ill-fated voyage to England was cut short by a French
attack, so he ended up in Portugal. He later visited Bristol and
London on his way to Ireland and Iceland, but never secured an
invitation from Edward. George was the closest he ever got to
court. He mentioned some very provocative theories about the
world.
"He was very cordial to me. After an evening of wine and engaging
discussion, mainly about the antics of the Woodvilles over the
years, Sir Edward's underlying motives of the fleet, their plans
to capture Richard, and explaining that they may wrest England's
crown and God knows how that would affect trade, he agreed to
break the back of the fleet. The remainder of the fleet followed,
steamed into London and gave themselves up on the embankment at
Westminster. Edward Woodville, coward that he is, fled to France.
We hope he's cooling his heels with the likes of Henry Tudor, and
we won't be seeing either of their hides again."
"Oh, Valentine, I only wish I could read about you in a history
book in years to come! How I envy future generations!"
He laughed. "Why, I would not think living it is more exciting
than merely reading about it in a book."
"So, have you informed the council of the success of the mission?"
"Nay, I came straight here without even stopping at the Tower. I
left that to Brampton and Cobham; somehow I don't think they'll
waste any time informing the King of their great success."
"
King
?"
"Oh, I meant Dickon."
"Valentine, I didn't stop worrying about you for one minute!"
He stroked her cheek and chided, "You worry too much. Is there not
enough activity about court to keep you occupied?"
"There has been more than I can bear! There was a rash of arrests
and executions. Two of Elizabeth's brothers were beheaded for
treason, and Richard proclaimed all of Uncle Ned and Bess'
children bastards because of his plight-troth to Eleanor Butler."
He sighed deeply, grew very pensive and wrapped an arm round her
shoulders. "These are times of great upheaval, Dove. I never
promised you that it would be an easy, smooth transition. Let us
just serve the kingdom in the best way we can."
"I have been trying, Valentine. You have no idea." She put her arm
round his waist and they walked back to her chamber.
He swung the door shut and she began unlacing the front of his
shirt.
"I realized this was the first time you'd gone to battle without
Richard," she said as he trailed kisses down her neck, his hands
winding through her hair, gathering it in bunches.
"And I became terribly worried about you until I was frantic with
fear that you would not be able to manage without him leading the
vanguard, but somehow I knew you would do it without him, and you
did. Valentine, I am so proud of you."
Their mouths locked as she pulled him down to her and their arms
wound around each other in a passionate embrace that neither
wanted ever to end. Finally she gently eased away, evoking from
him a frustrated moan.
"Valentine, you once said that a nobleman's wife never performed
such menial chores as bathing him. Well, you are not just any
nobleman. You are a valiant soldier, our kingdom's bravest
subject. Would it be a menial chore for us to bathe each other?"
He cupped her breasts gently through her chemise. "That should be
even more fun than defeating the Woodvilles," he said as he let
her remove his undertunic and hose, wrapping him in his satin
robe.
The fire was blazing in her retiring room hearth as she ordered
her chambermaid to prepare a bath. Moments later maids were
filling her tub with buckets of hot water which she doused
liberally with lavender oil. She closed the door and removed her
chemise, her kirtle, her underskirts.
Valentine approached her, dropping his robe to the floor. He
stepped into the hot fragrant water and lowered his body,
stretching his taught muscles and leaning his head back so it
rested on the tub's edge, his hair drinking up the water,
plastering itself to his neck.
She eased her body in next to him, spread her fingers and smoothed
the hair off his forehead, feeling the texture of the golden
locks, feeling the coarse body hair tickling her smooth skin.
He kissed her deeply, and she felt his hands run up and down her
thighs under the silky water. She arched her back towards him and
they floated together, their bodies joined, the water embracing
them and adding to their heat with its inviting warmth. His
natural scent melted into the bath and rose up with the steam,
entering her head, its whispering fragrance telling her how good
it felt to be close to him, how important she was in his life.
"Love me, love me right here, Valentine!" she gasped as he soaped
her body.
He wrapped her legs around his waist and began thrusting, slowly
at first, the more rapidly as the passion and excitement consumed
them. Their voices were smothered by the water sloshing against
the sides of the tub, splattering onto the floor.
Now he reclined in the tub and she straddled him, their bodies
sliding, moving together, their souls synchronized with the laws
of the universe that brought them together.
He got out of the tub in one swift leap as she watched the
rivulets of water roll down his body, droplets clinging to his
forehead, darkening his hair to the color of wheat.
He patted his body leisurely with the towel, wrapped it around his
waist, tucking in an end, and approached her.
She breathed in the freshness of soap and lavender that emanated
from his body. His hair fell across his forehead and hugged his
cheeks, droplets rolling in trickles down his neck, dampening the
mat of hair on his chest. She ran her eyes over his body and
noticed that the towel barely concealed the bulges.
She got out of the tub and towelled herself off, coiling the towel
around her head. "Come here and let me tear this towel off you,"
she said invitingly, moving close enough so that she could feel
his manhood rubbing against her thighs. Clenching her fists round
the towel, she yanked away and it fell in a heap to the floor. She
fanned out her fingers and ran them over his back.
He lifted her so that their lips were level, and kissed her
deeply, heading back for the bed.
They lay in bed, their bodies warm and moist, the soft sheets
clinging to them, their hands intertwined.
"Is that what they call good clean fun?" he asked just as she was
drifting off into slumber.
"Aye, my love, most certainly." Denys gave a smugly satisfied grin
and fell asleep, feeling like she had not a care in the world now
that her husband was home. He was right. All had gone their way.
What was there to fear? Richard would be crowned soon and the best
would be yet to come for them all….