This Heart of Mine (37 page)

One of his hands slipped down her satiny skin and moved in a circular motion around her belly while the other remained in possession of a breast. Velvet’s whole body was becoming atingle with a myriad of delightful sensations. She relaxed against her husband and, closing her eyes, murmured contentedly. His long fingers slipped to her Venus mont and, parting the plump lips, found sweet sensitivity. Velvet drew her breath in sharply as her eyes flew open. She couldn’t resist looking into the mirror, and she was half-shocked, half intrigued by what she saw.

Suddenly everything in the deep, half-golden gloom of the room was richer and lusher. Her body seemed more voluptuous than she could ever remember it being. There was a tautness to her belly that gave her skin a silken sheen and belied the melting passion she felt within her. Slowly her eyes dropped to his teasing fingers, and then they widened as she saw her own flesh, pink and glistening with pearly drops of moisture. She was unexpectedly aware of his manhood, hard and insistent, pressing between her tight buttocks. Lifting her eyes, she caught her breath a second time as she saw his face dark with the hot passion he felt for her. He ceased his dalliance and, turning her about, drew her gently into his embrace, his mouth covering hers with a hungry kiss.

The pressure of his lips was hard and fierce, forcing the breath from her. She parted her own lips to catch a breath, and he invaded her mouth with his tongue. Velvet shivered but was not yet ready to give quarter. Together their tongues, those two sleek organs with seeming lives of their own, danced madly back and forth in the dark caverns of their mouths. Then, never lifting his lips from hers, he lifted her up and carried her to their bed. Gently he lowered her, his own body following hers down upon the mattress, which sagged under their combined weights. His fingers tangled in her thick hair holding her head still.

It was a fiercely passionate kiss that drained her totally of whatever will and strength she might have had. Her whole being was attuned to but one thing: to receive pleasure, and to give it.

His mouth now moved from hers to travel a route that took him to her quivering eyelids, her cheeks, her chin, her soft throat with its violently leaping pulse that told him the depth of her own passion. He let his lips linger on that pulse, kissing it softly until it quieted a small bit; then he moved onward
down to her lovely breasts. With a sigh Alex took the nipple of one breast into his mouth and sucked it lovingly for several long minutes before saluting its mate as tenderly.

Velvet felt a strong tug of desire deep within her. Why was it that he could make her want him so very much? With a deep sigh of her own, she caressed his head and neck, her hand gradually moving to his shoulders then sliding down his back to fondle his buttocks. He groaned with the pleasure she gave him, and then with a fluid movement he parted her thighs and slid his loveshaft into her fevered body.

Velvet felt tears sliding down her cheeks in a totally uncontrolled fashion as he moved upon her. “I love you!” she whispered softly. “Dear God, how I love you, my wild Scots husband!”

He kissed her tears, tasting their saltiness upon his tongue, and then he took her face between his hands, saying as he did so, “I love ye, Velvet! There has never been any other woman who engaged my whole heart, and there never will be! I will always be faithful to ye, sweetheart. Always!”

Then they sought love’s perfection in each other’s arms, their souls as well as their bodies blending until there was nothing for either of them but the other in every moment of their love.

Christmas Day dawned with the sound of voices singing carols beneath their windows. Tousled but happy, Velvet and Alex smiled at each other and then arose from their bed, carefully sliding into the night garments that had been laid out for them but never used. Then going to the windows of their bedchamber, they flung them open and cried “Merry Christmas” to the children who were so sweetly serenading them. The children beamed delightedly at the lord and lady’s approval, and then scrambled for the coppers that Alex tossed to them.

“There’s cakes and ale at the kitchen door,” Velvet called to the small songsters who, curtsying and bobbing bows, scampered around the side of the house and out of sight.

Alex slipped his arm about his wife and pinched her mischievously. Then he buried his face in her warm bosom, inhaling her sweet fragrance.

“Oh, no, my lord!” Velvet pushed him away. “We have services to attend in the chapel. The priest is due at eight! Would you cause a scandal?”

“Yes!” He grinned and grabbed for her.

Skillfully she evaded him. “My lord, fie! As your wife I am
the moral arbitrator of this family. We will begin our Christmas properly. What would the holy man think if we are late?”

“He will undoubtedly think of the fine breakfast of brawn with mustard and Malmsey he’ll receive afterwards,” muttered Alex, but obedient to his young wife’s wishes he repaired to his own room to dress.

Christmas dinner was the main event of the day, and it began at three in the afternoon at the Earl of Lynmouth’s great mansion. The invited guests were few, consisting of the earl’s newly married sister and brother-in-law; the earl’s elder sister and brother-in-law, the Earl and Countess of Alcester, and their five children; Sir Walter Ralegh; and Bess Throckmorton. These last two had been invited separately, and had each managed to get their mistress’s approval for their absence providing they appeared back at court in time for the dancing that night. The queen had no idea that one of her favorite gentlemen and Mistress Throckmorton would be at the same table this Christmas Day.

The meal was a lavish one consisting of several courses each preceded by music from the minstrels’ gallery. They began with great platters carried into the hall by footmen, led by the Earl of Lynmouth’s master of the revels. Upon the platters were seafood of all kinds: sea trout served whole and surrounded by carved lemons and garnished with chervil; sole in a sauce of eggs, heavy cream, and dill; prawns that had been steamed in white wine and stuffed with lobster; a great oaken tub filled with ice and, amid the ice, oysters ready to crack open and eat whole. There was an enormous side of rare beef that was brought in and placed on the sideboard to be carved by an underchef; several fine hams; succulent capons stuffed with dried fruit; an enormous turkey stuffed with both oysters and chestnuts; a pheasant, roasted whole with all its feathers replaced and served on a golden platter; several large pies, one of rabbit, one of pigeon, one of goose, each wheeled in upon its own specially made cart as they were far too large to be carried by hand. There were bowls of carrots glazed in honey, peas cooked with leeks, and lettuces steamed in wine. There was fine white bread, butter, and salt aplenty, but the highlight of the meal was the bringing in of the boar’s head.

The honor of carrying in the beast had been given to young Henry Edwardes, Willow’s eldest son. One day, Robin thought after he had very much pleased his eldest sister by his choice, I shall have my own son to delegate this task to, but for now Henry will more than do. Proudly, the lad, his father’s young image, came forth, led by the master of the
revels and preceded by musicians and songsters. Upon a huge silver salver, almost too large for the boy, rested the boar’s head, crowned and garlanded with laurel leaves and rosemary, a lemon in its mouth to suggest plenty. At Henry’s entrance the assembled family arose from the table singing:

“Caput apri defero,
Reddens laudes domino.
The boar’s head in hand bring I,
Bedecked with bays and rosemary;
I pray you all sing merrily,
Quot estis in convivio …

Then, set in its place of honor on the board, the boar’s head was greeted with much cheering.

The Earl of Lynmouth and his guests ate heartily and drank deeply of fine Archambault wines. Even so, the leftovers would easily feed all the beggars who came to his door that night and feed them generously at that, especially when the servants’ leftovers were added.

When the last course of wine-soaked cakes, rich custards, fruit tarts, candied angelica, rose petals, and violets, sweet biscuits, and Malmsey was cleared from the board, the Christmas mummers were let into the hall to perform the time-honored play with St. George, the Saracen, and the Dragon. Along with the three major performers were lesser ones, consisting of Father Christmas with his holly bough, a doctor to cure the “wounds,” a handsome young boy carrying a wassail bowl, and a pretty little girl with warm brown eyes and golden brown hair who carried the mistletoe.

The children, Willow’s five and Robin’s three, were enchanted by the rather simple performance. Bess Throckmorton turned and smiled at Walter Ralegh who, free of royal restraint, gazed passionately back at her.

“It is almost like my childhood at home,” she said wistfully.

“And do you find it preferable to your life at court, Bess?” he asked.

She sighed. “At court, or so I am told, I serve the best interests of my family who have ever been in service to the crown. I love the queen, my mistress, but that does not mean I do not long for a simpler life in the country, a husband, children, and my own
hearth. That life I should prefer to the court.” Then she smiled sadly. “I am, however, past my prime in the marriage mart, and, lacking a dowry, who will have me?”

“I would have you, Bess,” he declared softly. “I have more than enough wealth for us both!”

“And how long would you have it, Walter, should you cease to be Her Majesty’s loyal and loving knight?” she asked. “I would not be the cause of your downfall, not after all you have done to gain your position.”

“She forgave Leicester.”

“Robert Dudley was, as we all know, a special case, Walter. They shared the same birthdate and had been friends since childhood. In the days when the queen was but the Princess Elizabeth and sent by her sister, Mary, to the tower, it was Robert Dudley, also imprisoned, who spent his own small hoard of silver to make her life more bearable by bribing the guards to bring her small luxuries such as firewood so that she might be warm. She loved Dudley, truly loved him. I believe she would have forgiven him anything, Walter, but the rest of us are vulnerable to her wrath. ’Tis a fine compliment you have paid me nonetheless, and I shall always cherish it.”

“I love you, Bess,” he said quietly.

Elizabeth Throckmorton blushed becomingly. “I love you, Walter,” she replied as softly, then she turned from him to watch the children, who were now engaged in a game of shoe-the-mare amid much giggling and scampering.

Robert Southwood sought out Walter Ralegh. “I hope you do not mind the simplicity with which we are celebrating,” he said with a smile as he watched the children. “Angel did so want you and Bess to share our Christmas, but unlike many of my station I prefer a family gathering.”

Walter Ralegh smiled back, nodding. “Both Bess and I were just saying how we missed the simpler times. I hear, however, that you will revive a custom of your late father’s and hold a great Twelfth Night masque for the court in the new year.”

“Aye! The queen requested it, and I cannot refuse her. Afterwards, however, I shall attempt to withdraw from the society of the court until after my wife has been delivered in the spring. It is her first child, and I am told she must have quiet. If it is possible, we shall try to return home to Devon so that the baby may be born at
Lynmouth.”

As the hour grew late, the children were all taken away to their beds and the musicians began to play a lilting lavolta. The Earl of Lynmouth led his wife into the center of the hall, and they began to dance. They were joined by the others in quick order,
but when the lavolta ended and a Spanish canary was played, Angel retired from the floor, the lively jig being too much for her in her current state. Finally as Christmas Day slipped nearer to St. Stephen’s Day the evening drew to a close.

Sir Walter Ralegh and Mistress Throckmorton had taken their leave earlier, both mindful of their duties to the queen. Willow and her husband were staying at Lynmouth House for the next few days, but Velvet and Alex now made their way across the snowy garden, both well satisfied with their first Christmas together.

Once again within their chamber Alex spoke lovingly to his wife. “There has been no time today for us to exchange gifts, lovey. Look beneath yer pillow.”

Velvet’s green eyes grew round with anticipation, and she flew across the bedchamber to their bed. Slipping her hand beneath the plump pillows, she drew forth a flat, white leather jeweler’s case that opened to reveal a magnificent necklace of diamonds and rubies, the center stone in the piece being a heart-shaped jewel of a deep red hue. “Oh, Alex!” She lifted the necklace from its nest of white satin and held it up to the light. “Oh, Alex!”

He chuckled with delight. “I am pleased to have finally rendered ye speechless, Velvet. May I assume then that ye like it?”

“Oh, yes, my lord! I love it! I adore it! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever possessed!” Still clutching her present, she flung herself at him and hugged him.

His arms slid about her, and he breathed in the warm scent of her elusive perfume. His face buried itself in the fragrant hollow of her neck and shoulder, and he sighed. “Dammit, lass, I do love ye so! I never knew that love would be so all-consuming, but by God I don’t regret a moment of it! In fact I despise myself for being such an arrogant fool that I missed all those years with ye.”

Velvet nestled against Alex’s shoulder, her heart filled with a new and wonderful warmth. So this was love, she thought. It was not an unpleasant feeling. It was, in fact, most tolerable. She sighed happily as he drew her closer.

Alex’s face, which had been a study in all-consuming passion, now took on an expression of amusement. He wondered what she was thinking and came close to the truth. He felt his heart expanding within his chest until he thought it would burst with the incredible depth of his feeling for this woman. Jesu, how he loved her! Still, it would do her no good to know his full emotions. Women who were too sure of their men often became unruly. Best to end this soft moment before he said something further he would have cause to regret. He spoke with a nonchalant tone.