Love, Remember Me (39 page)

She touched his arm, and he looked down at her questioningly. "I love you," she whispered shyly to him, her cheeks turning pink as she said the words. The look that leapt into his eyes almost pierced her to the heart. It was a look of such joy that she was embarrassed to realize that she had caused it. She was not worthy of such love as he had for her.

His arm was about her shoulders, and now he took her hand in his, kissing the half-closed fist, even as he asked, "And when did you come to this most important conclusion, madame?"

"Just now," she said. "When I was thinking about how angry your grandfather made me, I suddenly realized that I could not bear the thought of being without you, Varian. My heart is so full of you."

He found her mouth with his, kissing her sweetly, deeply. She returned his kisses with more passion than she had ever felt. His hand slipped into her bodice, cupping a full breast, fondling it, teasing the nipple. "I know the pain it cost you," he murmured against her hair, "but I am glad you ceased nursing the twins. Now these little beauties are all mine again, my love."

"I think I am glad now too," she told him, blushing. Her fingers fumbled with the laces on his shirt, pulling them open so that her hand could slide in and rub against his broad chest. Beneath her fingers his heartbeat a mad tattoo. She bent and kissed his chest, licking at his nipples and slipping her tongue across his flesh, down to his navel. Outside their moving coach the rain beat down.

He kissed her hard, his hand struggling to loosen his clothing. "Come upon my lap," he groaned to her. "I need to be inside of you!"

"The driver!" she gasped, shocked by his boldness. "What if he should see us?"

"The coach will not stop until we reach the inn," he panted, pulling her atop him. "He cannot see us."

She positioned herself upon his lap, feeling him slide easily into her sheath. Frantically she pulled her bodice open so he might have the freedom of her breasts. Then bracing her hands upon his shoulders, she began to slowly ride him, her eyes never leaving his. It was so wonderfully wicked, Nyssa thought. Coupling with a man in a careening coach, her skirts bunched up about her milk-white thighs, his hands crushing the soft perfumed flesh of her bosom, while she moved up and down upon his shaft. She wanted it to go on forever, but their excitement was such that it was quickly over. They lay sprawled together on the seat, their breath rasping with the ferocity of their shared passion.

Finally Nyssa said to her husband, "Did you ever do that with any other woman in a coach?"

"You should not ask a man such questions," he said, laughing.

"
You did!
" she accused jealously.

"I admit to nothing," he told her, "and besides, if I did, it was long before we ever met and married." Then he kissed her on the tip of her nose and began to fasten her bodice. "When we reach the inn, we do not want to cause a scandal."

"I think I shall ask Tillie to ride with us tomorrow," Nyssa said sweetly. Then she smiled up at him.

"You do, and I'll beat you," he responded, a dangerous light in his green eyes. "There are other games we can play to while away the tedium of travel, but I fear Tillie would be shocked."

She pushed his hands away. "See to your own attire, my lord," she told him, fussing with her hair, which had come undone.

"No Tillie," he growled, and she laughed seductively.

Suddenly everything had changed. Knowing she loved him now, Nyssa found herself growing jealous of any woman who looked upon her husband. Was this what love did to you? But she could find no fault in Varian, for his eyes were for her alone. If anything, her surprising and sudden admission of her love for him had only deepened his own feelings toward her. She found herself reveling in the love he gave her, which she had never been able to do before. She had felt guilty accepting that love when she had not been able to reciprocate it.

The journey to Lincoln became a real honeymoon for them. They were both reluctant to have it come to an end. They traveled across Worcestershire, with its rolling farmlands. There were great green fields filled with ripening corn ready for harvest, and grassy pasturelands of fat cattle. There were extensive woodlands for the maintenance of the deer; and some sheep, although the flocks were not as big or as extensive as in neighboring counties. The apple and pear orchards were near to harvest. The residents of Worcestershire made a country wine from the pears, which was called Perry. It was quite delicious, the Earl and Countess of March thought, when they were given it to drink their first night on the road. Nyssa discovered it was also far more potent than she had anticipated. Indeed she grew quite tipsy, to Varian's amusement.

The architecture of the region was very pretty. The town and the individual houses they passed were timber-framed. Their crucks, posts, and beams were painted black and white. Only the fine manor houses and the churches were of red sandstone, which was indigenous to the area. Gardens bright with color bloomed everywhere. When Nyssa commented on how pretty it all was, her husband agreed, but then he told her that they were fortunate to be passing south of the town of Droitwich, which was a foul place by virtue of its salt industry. Droitwich had three brine springs, and four hundred furnaces in which to dry its salt. The air for miles of the town was rancid and reeked.

They traveled on to Warwickshire. They were north of the river Avon, where the land was mostly woodland with common rights for the small landholders and the landless cottagers. The more powerful landowners in the district were constantly trying to enclose the forests and usurp their tenants' rights. There was much resentment in the area, and bandits could be a danger, but they were well-protected by their own men-at-arms.

They stopped in Coventry, which was a walled town. The Reformation had cost Coventry its cathedral, and had ended the cycle of Mystery plays for which the town had been famous. The loss of this industry had lost Coventry its prestige, not to mention a great deal of commercial income, for many small shops had done quite well selling their goods to the pilgrims. The town was in decline, but it was still beautiful.

"Why are there so few farmsteads?" Nyssa asked her husband.

"The land isn't good for farming. There are surface deposits of coal and iron, which are mined," he told her.

They moved across Leicestershire, and Nyssa was fascinated. She had never seen a landscape like Leicestershire's. There were virtually no trees, fewer hedgerows, and no deer to be seen at all. The fields were planted mostly in barley and pulses, although there was some wheat. They seemed to stretch on forever. Pastureland filled with cattle and black-faced sheep lined the roads for miles.

But there was much rural poverty because these lands were mainly in the hands of the nobility. The cottages showed neglect and were the poorest Nyssa had ever seen, single-room dwellings built of a mixture of clay, straw, and animal waste. Although the county produced wool, there was no cottage industry of weaving which would have brought the cottagers a better income.

They stayed a night in the town of Leicester. It was a center for the leather trade, and it was known for its excellent trade goods, cattle, and horse auctions. It was a prosperous enough town, but had not the happy air of the market towns in their native Herefordshire.

They were almost at the end of their journey as they crossed the boundaries from Leicestershire into Lincolnshire. This area's economy was dependent upon livestock. The fleeces of Lincoln's sheep were considered so fine that they were sold immediately upon shearing to outsiders, the prices being so high. The extensive fen and marshes produced reeds used all over England for thatching. Flax was also grown in the marshes, and woven into linen. Like Leicestershire, however, the great landowning families controlled everything in the region. The farther north one went, Nyssa realized, the more feudal everything became. The north, decimated in the time of William I for its continued rebellion, had never really recovered.

The town of Lincoln had lost its preeminence to Nottingham, but it was still a charming town, with a castle and a cathedral. The court had not arrived by the time they reached their destination, but the royal baggage carts had. The pavilions were being set up in the fields about the city. The Earl of March found the household steward who was in charge of setting everything up, and the steward directed them to a space on the very edge of the encampment.

"We have certainly not been given a prime site," Nyssa remarked, amused. "So much for being the queen's friend."

"At least we are not surrounded by a host of other pavilions, and we have a fine view of the countryside," he said with a smile.

The earl helped his servants set up their pavilions. They were placed upon wooden platforms, a larger one for the de Winters, and the smaller one for the servants. The little pavilion was divided neatly down the center by a heavy curtain so that the men and women could preserve their privacy. The Earl of March's pavilion was striped red and blue. His banner flew from the top of the tent pole, which would allow anyone looking for him to find him easily. Inside, fine carpets had been spread over the wooden platform. The living area and the sleeping area were divided by tapestries. There were braziers for heating the pavilion, for though this was August, they were in the north.

The living area contained a table for eating and several chairs. The sleeping area had a bed which was actually a large leather hammock fastened to four stout pegs set upon a rug-covered platform, with a feather bed atop it. The chests containing their personal effects were placed about. There were footed bronze candelabra and several glass lamps hanging from the ceilings for lighting. Outside the pavilion a small campfire was set up. These preparations would be repeated each time the royal progress moved on; sometimes every day, and sometimes every few days.

The servants drew water from the nearby river and heated it over the fire so that their master and mistress might bathe before the royal party arrived. Nyssa and Varian washed themselves in a small wooden tub, sharing the bathwater and toweling each other dry in the chilly air. Tillie and Toby had both been quite shocked when told that Nyssa and Varian would bathe each other.

"What is the world coming to, I should like to know?" Tillie huffed, annoyed. "The next thing you know, there will be no need for us servants. I never thought I'd see the day when my mistress would be so immodest as to bathe her own husband!"

"I don't like it any better than you do," Toby agreed, "but they ain't going to do away with the likes of us, Tillie, old girl."

"Tillie, come and help me dress," Nyssa called to her tiring woman. "I'm on the sleeping side of the pavilion. Toby is to help his lordship on the other side. Hurry now!"

"You see!" Toby grinned. "They couldn't do without us."

The Earl and Countess of March were elegantly garbed by the time the royal progress began to arrive at the encampment. Nyssa's gown was of deep blue velvet, its bodice sewn with silver beads and pearls. The underskirt was of silver and blue brocade. The neckline was low and square, the sleeves wide and bell-like, turned back at the lower edge. About her neck Nyssa wore two fine ropes of pearls. Her dark hair was parted in the middle and gathered in a silver caul. A single sapphire on a silver ribbon was affixed about her forehead.

The earl was garbed in an elegant costume of wine-colored velvet. His silk shirt was ruffled at both the neck and the sleeves. His stockings were striped wine and gold. His doublet was sewn with gold beads and pearls. Atop his dark head he wore a flat bonnet with ostrich tips. A heavy gold chain was about his neck.

The progress was settling into the encampment. Protocol demanded that the Earl and Countess of March wait to be summoned into the royal presence. The Duke of Norfolk arrived to greet them, looking weary and travel-stained. It was a hard progress for a man of seventy. They had not seen him since they had left court over a year ago.

"Will you be seated, my lord? Some wine, perhaps?" Nyssa was the model of a perfect hostess. Only her husband noticed her cold tone.

The duke settled himself heavily into a chair and grunted his thanks as the goblet was offered him. He drank deeply. "You carry good wine with you," he noted. "How are my great-grandchildren?"

"Thriving, Grandfather," the earl said. He thought the old man looked a trifle worn.

"They would be better if their parents did not have to trek over half the English countryside following a royal progress because of the whim of a chit of a queen," Nyssa said sharply.

"Have you not yet beaten the high spirits out of her?" the duke said, not bothering to answer Nyssa directly, and thereby infuriating her even more. "At least she's a good breeder. Would God that your cousin Catherine proved as fecund."

Nyssa opened her mouth to respond, but Varian sharply reprimanded her. "
Nyssa!
Be silent, sweeting." He turned to his grandfather. "We heard that she had miscarried in late spring."

"Perhaps," the duke said gloomily. "She is very secretive about it. She has not the wit of a flea, and loves nothing but constant pleasure, but the king adores her.
So far
. She can do no wrong in his eyes."

He looked directly at Nyssa, and to her surprise, addressed her. "I am glad you are here, madame. The queen is restless, and she is bored. That is not good. I know not why she feels this way. She has everything her heart desires, yet she complains she has not her best friend. You seem to have that distinction, although I cannot comprehend why. Try to calm her, madame. Turn her to a more reasonable behavior."

"Cat cannot be turned if she chooses not to be," Nyssa said quietly. "How little you really know her, my lord; and that, I think, may prove dangerous for you both."

"The future of the family depends upon your success," the Duke of Norfolk told Nyssa.

"Nonsense!" she snorted. "Besides, we are not Howards, my lord. Varian and I are de Winters. We do not seek power and riches. We were content at Winterhaven with our children. If you fall from grace, my lord, it will not affect us."