Virginia Henley (42 page)

Velvet gazed up at her portrait. “I’ll never look the same.”

“You are far lovelier than the painting, you know.”

“The eye of the beholder . . .”

He carefully sponged the sore on her breast, daubed it with cream and covered it with a square of linen. “Let’s hope these stay put.” He took away the dirty washbowl. “Now you are going to drink some barley water to put some spunk in you.”

“Controlling swine,” she murmured tenderly.

He grinned. “I wonder if there’s an herb I could brew to control your tongue?”

“Hemlock.”

He couldn’t bring himself to smile at her deadly humor. He heard a noise on the landing and went out to find a jug of barley water and a fresh goblet.

Greysteel went about the procedure of getting the restorative drink inside her the quickest way he could. Some spilled onto the bedding and he was glad he’d had enough foresight to feed her before putting clean sheets on the bed.

By the time he finished his ministrations, he could see that his wife was exhausted. “Try and rest, love. I’ll go and eat; hopefully, it will give me enough strength to keep the upper hand over you.”

Montgomery was ravenous by the time his dinner tray was laid at the top of the stairs. He carried it into a guest bedchamber and devoured everything Bertha had cooked for him, including a jug of autumn ale. Food had never tasted better in his life and he knew his health was returning to normal.

That night, Greysteel lay on top of the bed next to Velvet and held her hand. She was restless and he had to fetch her drinks and help her use the chamber pot, but he was gratified to see that she did sleep for a few hours.

In the morning, he began all over again with her ablutions. Greysteel changed the small dressings on her breast and cheek and dreaded the moment when she would ask for a mirror. When she was clean and fed, he handed her a parchment. “Here is the morning gift you asked me for after we were married.”

Velvet unfolded the deed to Bolsover Castle and saw that he had signed the ownership over to
Elizabeth Montgomery.
Her eyes searched his face and she saw that though it was a sacrifice, it was one he was eager to make. “Thank you, Greysteel.”

“You have two letters.... I read the one from Christian.”

“Will you read it to me?”

“It contains sad news. Princess Mary has died.”

“Oh, dear God . . . poor Charles.”

Greysteel took the letter from the envelope and read:

Greysteel raised his eyes from the letter and looked at Velvet. “You know I want to kill the whoreson, don’t you?”

She shook her head. “It would hurt Christian too much.”

His eyes went back to the letter and he continued reading.

Greysteel and Velvet exchanged a poignant glance.

Greysteel avoided looking at his wife and finished the letter.

“Will you write to her for me, darling?”

“As soon as I see that you are fully recovered.”

“I refuse to expire . . . again,” she added softly.

The light in his grey eyes was fierce. “You did take your last breath, Velvet.”

“Yes . . . I know what it feels like to die.”

“What
does
it feel like, love?”

“Frightening . . . so I decided to come back to you. . . . I knew you would keep me safe.” She twisted her wedding ring that now fitted so loosely, and it fell off in her hand. She looked down at the tiny circle of gold and noticed something inscribed on the inside. She held it up to the light and squinted her eyes so that she could read it. LOVED FOREVER.

Velvet’s heart fluttered and her eyes widened. “Why did you never tell me that you loved me, Greysteel?”

“From the day we were betrothed, I believed you were in love with Charles. Now that I’m older and wiser, I realize that you love each other as friends.”

“Devoted friends,” Velvet teased.

“If you are ready to pour salt on my wounded heart, you must be feeling a little better. Here is a letter from your
devoted
friend. I shall give you privacy while you read it.”

Alone, Velvet looked at the sealed letter in her hand. Though they had been friends since Charles was eight, this was the first time he had ever written to her. As she broke the seal and began to read, the pain Charles conveyed over the death of his sister dwarfed her distressing discomfort.

She came to the words

And she read them a second time. When she came to the words
I envy Montgomery your devotion, because I know I will never have so great a love,
she read them three times.

Velvet suddenly became suspicious of Greysteel’s words. “ ‘Older and wiser,’ be damned,” she murmured. “Perhaps you realized that Charles and I love each other as friends only after you read this letter.” A hint of a smile touched her lips and she decided not to examine the seal too closely.

After a short time, she again focused on the letter.

“That is true,” she whispered.

Velvet sighed. “That is also true.” The letter fell from her fingers as her mind drifted off, conjuring imaginary scenes.

 

Each and every day of the next week, Greysteel nursed his wife, washing her, tending the eruptions on her body, feeding her and showing her in every way how precious she was to him.

“My scabs and matter are healing.” She raised her arm to reveal her armpit. “Some more crusts fell off in the night.”

He took hold of her fingers, kissed them and slanted a dark eyebrow at her. “Can you guess what I’m going to do to you when you are strong again?”

She rolled her eyes in anticipation. “Tell me.”

His teasing look vanished. “I’m going to beat you to a jelly for putting your life in jeopardy!”

“Do you have a big stick?” she asked innocently.

“Big enough,” he threatened. “Let me put more cream on your cheek.” He peeled off the small square of linen and shook his head regretfully. “How the hell do you expect me to live with the knowledge that I infected you with smallpox?”

“Are these pangs of guilt you are suffering caused by the pockmark I’ll have on my face?” she asked incredulously.

“It is a terrible price to pay for rushing here to warn me.”

“Greysteel Montgomery, it is a mere trifle. If it’s ugly, I shall wear a fashionable patch over it.”

Her courageous nonchalance touched and amused him. “It will have to be a hell of a big patch.”

“They have some outrageous ones at the Exchange in the Strand imported from Paris. I warrant a patch in the shape of a coach and horses will do the trick.”

“You will be mistaken for a French courtesan,” he teased.

“By you, I hope . . . and sooner rather than later,” she invited.

He rubbed cream on her cheek and decided to leave it uncovered. Since a second scab had never formed, he had high expectations that the scar would not be unsightly. Since she had never asked for a mirror, Greysteel wondered if she was afraid to look at herself. He forced himself to go to her dressing table and bring her a hand mirror.

Velvet took one look at her reflection and screamed.

“Sweetheart, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s my
hair!
It’s enough to frighten the ducks off the pond. Bloody hell, is it any wonder they used to call me Frizzy Lizzy? How can you bear to look at me?”

He grinned. “You’ve been naked for over a fortnight—I didn’t notice your hair.”

“I wanted to go downstairs tomorrow, but I’ll have to wash my hair before anyone sees me looking like this.... I’m a countess.”

“I’ll get the bathing tub out. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to carry hot water for you, though,” he teased.

“If you have a relapse, I’ll put you to bed and do my utmost to restore your faculties.” She licked her lips suggestively.

“You’re starting to frighten me, Lizzy!”

“You devil! It’s
Lady Lizzy,
and don’t you forget it.”

That night, after she had dried her hair before the fire, Velvet put down her brush and posed naked before her portrait. “What do you think?”

Greysteel stepped from the bath and toweled himself. He studied the painting, then cast a critical eye over his wife. “Well-ll . . . you’ve been very sick, you know,” he said doubtfully.

She stared at his cock as it stood up and turned rigid. “Now there’s an honest answer. I shall reward the tall fellow.”

He strode toward her, picked her up with mock ferocity and carried her to their bed. With tender hands he laid her down and brushed the red gold tendrils from her face. “I love you so much, Velvet. We are miraculously lucky to have survived and to be together like this.”

Her arms slid about his neck, which was now heavily pockmarked, and she lifted her mouth for his ravishing.
His long lovelocks will hide them; his splendid dark beauty is intact.
Her mind stopped forming thoughts as she reveled in the taste and the feel of his powerful body. Her fingers sought out his old battle scars when he made love to her. It thrilled her to know he had been a warrior.

When Greysteel kissed her breasts, he cherished the one that had been left pockmarked as much as he did the other—more than he did the other. It was a badge of her great courage.

Velvet shuddered. His unshaved chin prickled against her flesh and perversely it excited her because it added to his overt maleness and his dominance. By contrast she felt fragile and feminine and so sensually feline, she wanted to purr.

When Greysteel slid up inside her, he cried out as her scalding sheath gloved him, clinging possessively as she yielded to his hard demanding thrusts. Though he had intended to be gentle, his instincts told him that Velvet wanted to be taken with thunder and fury. She was his woman and he needed to brand her with his fierce love and adoration. Tenderness could wait until the afterglow.

Much later, with their bodies curled together, the lovers talked and whispered for hours, murmuring love words, making plans, rejoicing over their baby, declaring passionate vows and exchanging sacred promises. They ran the gamut of emotions from laughter to tears as they revealed their innermost fears and fancies to each other. They had both learned the hard way that being together was the only thing they truly needed to be happy.

 

The next morning, before they broke their fast, they went downstairs and ran outside like children escaping from the prison of the schoolroom. They visited their horses in the stable and when Velvet saw the pair of striped cats who lived there, she decided to give them names. “Let’s call them
Scabs
and
Matter
. I have a flagrant fondness for scabs and matter.”

“You have a predilection for peculiar names, my love.”

“If someone called
Greysteel
is referring to the name
Velvet,
the wretch has no leg to stand on!”

He bowed. “Your witty point is taken. Let’s go and eat breakfast before I faint from hunger.”

“You need some boiled owl to toughen you up!”

“And you need your arse tanned to curb that saucy tongue.”

“Tell the truth and shame the Devil, you love my tongue!”

“You are the rudest little girl I have ever encountered.”

They went off into peals of laughter. Then, hands clasped, they entered the manor through the kitchen door.

They ate their breakfast at the kitchen table and insisted that Mrs. Clegg join them.

“Roehampton has spawned another love match,” Bertha said. “It’s the romantic Elizabethan atmosphere.... It’s inevitable.”

“We are going to have a baby.” Velvet’s face glowed.

“Congratulations! When is it to be, my lady?”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t put in an appearance before May.”

“So that you can attend the coronation?” Bertha asked.

“Good heavens, no! If he’s born in April, I’ll have
two
males under the sign of Aries trying to control me.”