Love Above All (38 page)

This retort brought loud laughter from the
other men, while Lord Walter looked distinctly chagrined.

“What I also remember,” Lady Agnes continued
softly, looking into her husband’s eyes, “is sunrise the next
morning, when you awakened remarkably clearheaded. I recall how
grateful I was that you allowed your weary and very nervous bride a
few hours of sleep before you claimed her. I have always wondered
if you were only pretending to be drunk.”

“If I were not drunk,” Lord Walter murmured,
“I never could have waited. But what a beautiful sunrise that was.
What a happy, happy day. All the days since then have been
happy.”

The long-married pair gazed raptly at each
other until Royce cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes,” said Lord Walter. “Back to duty.
Quentin, we are all your witnesses here, so climb into that bed and
touch your lady’s thigh with yours. Then we can leave you alone.
And from what I see of you, you’ll not be sleeping much this
night!”

Looking not the least bit embarrassed by his
friend’s good humored chaffing, Quentin got into bed and under the
sheet, sitting next to Fionna. Then, very decorously, he pulled the
sheet aside to show everyone in the room how his leg lay firmly
against Fionna’s.

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.

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.

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]

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