The White Lord of Wellesbourne (17 page)

Gently, his fingers played with
her and he could feel her body stiffen beneath him. Another few strokes with
both his maleness and his fingers and Alixandrea gasped loudly, her body
arching against him. He lost himself, spilling within her, driving home with
all of the power and passion he was feeling.

Too soon, it was over. Too soon,
their bodies cooled and their passion banked until they lay in a heap,
intertwined, dozing away the minutes as the world went on around them.  The
calm after the storm had arrived, and it settled heavily.

Yet Alixandrea was not asleep.
She lay beneath Matthew’s enormous body, thinking that of all the things she
had imagined this moment would be, it did not compare with the reality of it. 
She had heard the female servants telling stories of pain and devastation at
the hands of inept men. But Matthew was not inept; he had been kind and
considerate and gentle and, above all, he had made her feel things that she had
never imagined to exist.

“Are you well?” his mouth was
against her forehead. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

She tilted her head back, looking
up at him. The more she saw of this man, the more handsome he became.  It
wasn’t so much in his physical appearance, for she had seen men that were more
beautiful. But he had a certain quality she could not quite put her finger on
that made him absolutely irresistible, far more attractive than any man she had
ever known.

“Nay,” she said softly. “You were
quite gentle.”

“I’d hoped to be. I did not want
this to be a bad experience for you, as it is with some.”

“It wasn’t.” She snuggled against
him, daring to be bold and pressing herself against him. He was big and warm
and safe. “Would it be possible to stay all day here?”

He laughed, low in his throat.
“It would be my most ardent desire, but alas, I cannot. I am mobilizing an army
and…”

This time, she put her fingers on
his lips to silence him. “Say no more, husband. I know that you are a busy man
with much demand for your time and attention.”

He kissed her fingers. “But none
more important than you.”

She gazed at him a long moment
before laughing softly. “How can you say that,” she asked, “when you have only
known me for two days?”

He put a massive arm behind his
head, resting on it. “Because you are my wife. It matters not if I have known
you two days, two months, or twenty years. By virtue of your station, you will
always be important to me.”

She sat up, clutching the
coverlet to her chest. With her mussed bronze hair, sweet face and creamy skin,
he was indeed in danger of staying there all day.  He reached out, pushing a
stray lock of hair from her face.

“This is a contract marriage,
Matthew,” she said softly. “You do not have to say things that you do not mean.
You are not obligated to pay me lip service.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Is that
what you think I am doing?”

Her head wagged back and forth,
slowly. “I did not say that you were. But as we have both acknowledged, we’ve
known each other only two days. We know so little about one another. How can
you make declarations of my importance without even knowing me?”

“I told you. As my wife, you will
always be important, even if we grow to hate one another.”

Her bronze eyes were fixed
intently on him. “I pray that it never comes to that. I promise you that I will
do all in my power to ensure that this marriage is pleasant for the both of
us.”

He toyed with the ends of her
hair. “I hope it is much more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged, those big shoulders
lifting. “Though we have known each other a very short time, I have seen much
that I like during that time and very little that I don’t. I may be many
things, but a bad judge of character is not one of them. My life has depended
on it. I would be willing to wager that you are a woman of good character.”

She was beginning to feel that
wonderful warmth again, something he seemed so capable of creating between
them. “Even though I do not like to tend wounds?”

He laughed softly. “Aye, even
though you do not like to tend wounds.”

“And even though I do not like to
sew?”

“Aye, even that.”

Her gaze continued to linger on
him, drifting over the enormous bicep near his head, the muscular build of his
bare chest. Being a proper lady, she should have been embarrassed faced with
the bare flesh of a man, but found that she was not.  She rather liked looking
at him.

“What do you like to do, Matt?”

His easy smile turned gentle; he
liked hearing his name come out of her mouth. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged and lay back down
beside him; he gathered her into his arms and held her close. “I mean just
that,” she said softly. “I like to tend flowers and sometimes I like to draw.
What do you like to do in your leisure time?”

He thought a moment. “I have been
a sworn knight since I was seventeen years of age,” he said pensively. “All I
have known is war since that time. Nineteen years of battles. I suppose there
hasn’t been much time for leisure.”

“But if there was time, what
would you do?”

He tickled her nose. “Probably
spend it with you.”

She giggled and swatted at his
hand. “Aye, but doing what?”

He snorted, burying his face in
her neck, his hot hands once again moving down the hollow of her slender back.
“Doing what we just did.”

She laughed softly, pushing at
him. “Be serious. I am attempting to get to know you, husband. You could
cooperate.”

He pulled back and looked at her,
though the blue eyes were still full of humor.  Errant strands of bronze hair
were in her face and he pushed them aside to get a better view.

“Sorry,” he said, though he
really wasn’t. “I suppose if I had to think of one thing I like to do, ‘tis to
go fishing.”

“Fishing?”

“Aye. I used to do it with my
father when I was a lad.  In fact, I could fish before I could walk. There is
much peace and serenity to fishing, far removed from the cries and violence of
the battlefield. Fishing, to me, has always signified peace because I learned
it at such a young age before I even learned to wield a sword.”

“I have never been fishing.”

“Then we shall have to remedy
that.”

She grinned at him, a joyful
smile which he easily returned.  He wanted nothing more to make love to her again,
but he refrained. Better to bask in the wonder and joy of their first time
together. She was his wife now and he looked forward to a lifetime of
opportunity to further acquaint himself with her lovely mind and body. 

She fell back asleep in his arms.
Though Matthew did not sleep, he stayed with her and did not move a muscle.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was dawn. The battlements of
Wellesbourne were bathed in pink light as the sun began to rise, basking the
green countryside of Warwickshire in warm, soothing shades.  From his post on
the wall, Matthew could see a three-point buck in the distance, finding his
morning meal.

 Birds flew overhead, singing
sweetly to greet the new day. He glanced up at the lavender sky; perhaps the
birds always sang so sweetly and he just hadn’t noticed. But this morning, he
found pleasantness in nearly everything.  He had left his wife still sleeping
in her small bed, warm and cozy, and for the moment, life was good. It was
surprising to realize that there was an agreeable side to his existence, far
removed from the war and death he was so accustomed to.

But that was until Mark and Luke
arrived. The middle Wellesbourne brothers looked dismal and tired. It was
usual, when the army was housed at Wellesbourne Castle, for Mark and Luke to
take the night watch. Matthew and John usually patrolled during the day, and
with Matthew, sometimes all night as well. But last night, Matthew had found
great comfort sleeping next to his wife in her small bed.  By his brothers’
expressions, he guessed that it had not been a quiet patrol.

“Greetings, brother,” Mark said
as he approached.

Matthew pushed himself up off the
wall where he had been leaning. “Good morn,” he acknowledged. He looked between
Mark and Luke. “Why the grim faces?”

Mark and Luke came to a halt,
Luke rubbing his eyes wearily. “We received a rider from Warwick last night,”
Mark said. “The Earl of Oxford has made it to France, apparently quite welcomed
by Henry Tudor. He brings with him the de Vere fortune to support the French mercenaries
that Henry must pay for in his quest to claim the throne. This is bad news,
Matt. It gives Henry more powerful barons than we would like.”

The pleasant morning quickly
dissolved. Matthew sighed, his gaze drifting over the landscape of his beloved Warwickshire.
“Did you tell the messenger to return and tell Warwick that Somerset and Sutton
are moving Irish mercenaries up to Gloucester?”

“Aye.”

Matthew pondered a thousand
courses of action that the latest news could take.  “Last we heard of de Vere, he
had laid siege to St. Michael’s Mount and was attempting to rouse all of
Cornwall into a Lancastrian uprising,” he said. “When did this end?”

“A few weeks ago,” Mark replied.
“De Vere has been fleeing Richard’s forces since that time. Somehow he’s escape
to France.”

“And his fortunes with him.”

The brothers fell silent, each
lost to their own particular thoughts.  Matthew’s jaw ticked faintly,
indicative of his level of concern.

“We must return to London
immediately,” he said finally. “Too much is happening for us to remain here any
longer. Richard will require our strength and counsel.”

“They are all up to something,”
Luke muttered. “You were right when you said it two days ago, Matt. Something
big is happening.”

Matthew was already heading for
the gate house and the narrow spiral stairs that led to the ward below. “Notify
John and the men. We move out within the hour.”

Luke nodded shortly and fled down
the stairs in front of his brothers.  Mark followed Matthew to the ward.

“What about Father?” Mark asked.

Matthew shrugged. “What about
him?  He was sleeping soundly in his room this morning when I left the keep. We
kept the drink away from him yesterday, so I would presume that he would be
able to ride.”

Mark was silent. Matthew knew his
brother well enough to know when something was bothering him.  “What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, brother. Your
silence is full of something, doubt or disapproval, I cannot be sure.”

Mark glanced up at his brother,
his eyes so dark that they were almost obsidian.  He was the only brother that
favored Adam in that regard; the rest of the Wellesbourne siblings possessed
their mother’s blue eyes.

“I thought you were with Father
last night,” he said. “Had I known that you were not, I would have stayed with
him myself.”

Matthew snorted. “I have a new
wife and you think I spent my evening with our father? Think again.”

“But he’s still brittle, Matt. I
am not comfortable with him being left alone.”

It was an old argument between
them. Mark could impart guilt on Matthew like none other; Matthew, on the other
hand, would accept it.  They loved each other dearly, would defend one another
to the death, but they could still trade barbs and insults like brothers could.

“Then you stay with him,” Matthew
snapped softly. “I told you that I am not going to go through this again and I
meant it. He’s a grown man; I have played nursemaid for twelve long years,
Mark. I am tired. It is time for you to shoulder some of the burden.”

“You are unfair,” Mark was trying
to keep his temper. “I have shared this burden with you many a time. But we all
know that Father responds better to you than to any of us.”

“And that makes it my sole
responsibility?” Matthew came to a stop, glaring at his shorter, stockier
brother. “I have far too much on my mind to deal with this insanity right now. 
Wiltshire and Pembroke have moved their armies north to Nottingham, Somerset
and Lord Sutton are due in Gloucester any day at which time they, too, will
move north, presumably to Nottingham, and Oxford and William Brandon have both
fled to France to join Henry’s forces there. Something massive is brewing,
Mark, larger than anything we can comprehend. When my mind should be focused on
that, you are angry because I did not spend the evening sitting with my father
who has less control than a weak woman and the constitution of a skittish cat.”

Part of Mark knew that he was
correct, but the other part was genuinely concerned for the state of their
father. He knew Matthew was concerned too, deep down, but the man had enormous
responsibilities staring him in the face that the others did not. 

“Fine,” he said shortly. “The
rest of us will try to handle Father. But if something happens to him,
something awful, know that the ultimate responsibility should have been with
you.”