The White Lord of Wellesbourne (37 page)

  “And your husband?” he asked.
“Does he know the child is not his?”

“He knows,” she said, averting her
gaze. “We met after Audrey was born. I told him that my husband had died and he
raised Audrey as his own. She has known no other father but him.”

Mathew could see the logic in
that but it still hurt. “But she is mine.”

“In blood only, Matt.”

He did not have a good argument
to that.  He knew she was right but he was struggling against it. “Is… is he
good to her?”

“He could not love her more if
she was his own flesh. She is very much spoiled.”

Tears sprang to his eyes but he
blinked them away, quickly. “She’s beautiful,” he said hoarsely.  He looked up
at her. “And she’s a Wellesbourne.”

Mena stood her ground. “She is a
Cuthbert.”

“She’s my child.”

“She’s
my
child.”

His emotions were reeling,
feeding his mounting frustration. “So you would keep her from me?”

“I will not disturb the only life
she has ever known,” Mena said steadily. “Matt, had we not happen to contact
Caroline, you still would not know about her. It was my intention that you
should not because I know how you are. You are possessive. And I shall not let
you take her away from me.”

He softened somewhat. “I do not
want to take her away from you. But I think it only right she knows who her
real father is.”

“Right for who? For you?’ Mena
shook her head. “You must think of Audrey. To tell her that right now would
completely disrupt her life. Is that what you want? To upset her so?”

He just sat there, thinking on
her words, not wanting to admit she may be right.  He reached down and picked
up his helm. “Nay,” he breathed. “I would not upset her.”

Mena could see how badly he was
hurting.  She was hurting, too, but she was also doing what she believed best
for her child.

“Perhaps I will tell her someday,
Matt,” she said softly. “But not right now. She is too young.  She would not
understand.”

He could feel the tears and did
not try to stop them. He looked up at her, his eyes brimming. “May I at least
talk to her?”

Mena reached out and touched his
hand; he put his big one over hers. It was simply a comforting touch of old
friends.  “Of course,” she said softly. “I would encourage you to. She’s a
wonderful child.”

He wiped at the tears quickly,
struggling to recover what was left of his shattered self-control. Mena,
thankful he was calming, removed her hand.

“Your wife seems like a lovely
lady,” she said, changing the subject. “She is quite kind.”

“Aye, she is,” Matthew wiped at
his nose and plopped his helm back on his head. “I am very fortunate to have
married her.”

Mena grinned. “Sorry to say, that
is not what you thought ten years ago.”

He looked at her, sharply, but
they both knew that she was correct. He broke down in a weak smile. “Indeed.
But I was wrong. More wrong than you can know. She is a magnificent woman.”

“Then I wish you all of the
happiness in the world,” Mena said sincerely. “May you have many Audreys in the
future.”

“Now you sound like Aunt Livia.”

“Is that old bird still alive?”

“Still.”

They shared a nervous laugh just
as Alixandrea, Audrey and Caroline returned. Alixandrea’s concerned expression
was eased when her husband called her over.  She slid her hand into his
outstretched one, her gaze moving anxiously between Mena and her husband.

“Is everything well?” she asked
him quietly.

He nodded, standing up and
kissing her hand more tenderly than she could ever remember.  His blue eyes
were warm and loving upon her; she could literally feel his adoration reaching
out to embrace her.  But before she could say any more, he looked to Audrey,
now happily shoveling custard into her mouth.  His gaze softened as a twinkle
came to his eye.

“Young lady, if you have come to
see a match, let me see if I can give you a good one,” he said as he moved to
the base of the platform. “I shall unseat all of my brothers just for you.”

“And take their horses?” she
asked, her mouth full.

He laughed. “So you know something
of tournaments, do you?” he said. “Well, I shall try, but I doubt my brother
Mark will go down without a fight. He will try to unseat me first.”

“Send him to the ground, my
lord,” she instructed, extending her wooden spoon at him imperiously.

“It shall be done.”

Audrey exclaimed gleefully as
Matthew mounted his charger and rode off across the field.  Alixandrea could
not remember ever seeing him so happy about anything.

***

He thrust into her repeatedly,
listening to her soft moans with every contact, every hint of friction.  The
firelight from the dying hearth illuminated her beautiful breasts as they
quivered with every measured stroke he delivered. It became mesmerizing to
watch her move, her eyes closed to the joy of his touch, experiencing the magic
he seemed to cast upon her. 

Matthew’s hands were on her
buttocks, holding her to him as he drove into her time and time again.
Alixandrea’s hands were on his neck, holding him fast as their bodies melded
into one heart, one soul.  When he finally found his release, she was able to
match him. Bodies shuddered, sweat glistened, and Matthew gathered her up
against him and held her close.

It was the fourth time they had
made love that night. It had started just after supper and now continued well
after midnight.  Matthew was insatiable; she had been naked and in bed since
sunset with his body over her or in her one way or another. 

There was more than passion to
his touch; there was wonder and excitement and an odd desperation.  Though she
did not mention it to him, she could feel it.  Somehow, he was feeling pain and
she thought she knew why.  When he flipped her over onto her stomach and took
her a fifth time for the night, she simply surrendered. He did not want to
talk, he wanted to touch, and she would let him for as long as he needed to.

Somewhere during the night, they
slept wrapped in each other’s arms. Alixandrea awoke to him making love to her
again, and he took her twice as the sun rose.  By the time the dawn was upon
them, she was exhausted but in a good way.  She thought to herself that she
would need to sleep all day to recover from the active night.

He never let her out of his arms,
his face buried in her neck. They were swathed in linens, burrowed warm and
cozy in the heavy bed. She rolled over onto her left side, gazing at his dozing
face. He looked so peaceful.  His blue eyes finally opened and fixed on her.

“Good morning, Lady
Wellesbourne,” he murmured.

“Good morning, my lord,” she
smiled at him. A hand came up to touch his cheek, his brow, moving across his
face. “You surely must be exhausted.”

He grinned, his eyes closing.
“Not at all. I feel remarkable.”

“You have a tournament today.”

“Indeed I do. Are you planning on
watching or will I have the shame of my wife in the lists with her hands over
her eyes?”

She giggled. “I will watch, I
promise.”

He pulled her close, kissing her
until he grew hard again and his passion begged for release.  He took her for
an eighth and final time, listening to the birds outside the window as the day
began to deepen.

Alixandrea lay in bed, spent, as
he rose to relieve himself in the chamber pot.  There was a basin of cold water
and a cake of soap on the vanity near the massive wardrobe; she studied his
naked body as he made his way over to the water and proceeded to wash himself. 
He had magnificent form; tight buttocks, muscular legs, a slender waist and
wide shoulders.  Though she’d never before seen a naked man, she had very
quickly learned to admire Matthew’s nude form and he wasn’t shy about parading
around in it.

With a small bronze mirror and
sharp edged razor, he shaved in the cold water, remarkably not cutting himself.
He did not care if the water was warm or not and did not want the interruption
of a servant bearing hot water.  Properly cleaned and shaved, he faced his wife
as she lay wrapped up in the linens. He smiled at her.

“Are you going to lie there all
day?”

She stretched wearily. “I would
if I could.”

He went over to the bed and
smacked her lightly on the backside. “You cannot,” he said firmly. “The tourney
is in two hours and I need you up and dressed.”

She sat up, her glorious bronze
hair mussed and her delectable white shoulders revealed.  He looked at her and
groaned.

“God’s Bones,” he muttered.
“Hurry up and get dressed before I am back in that bed with you.”

She grinned. “Are you saying that
you have not had enough of me yet?”

“I will never have enough of you.
Get up before I get you out of bed myself.”

She started to crawl out of bed,
the linens still wrapped around her. “It is cold and I want a bath. I promise I
shall make it fast.”

He found his leather breeches and
pulled them on. “You’d better.” He went in search of his tunic. “I have to go
over to the field but I shall return in time to escort you there. Can you be
ready in an hour?”

“Hour and half.”

“Hour and fifteen minutes.”

“Very well.”

“Good girl.”

 He found the tunic, pulled it
on, and went for his boots. He sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on and
she crawled next to him, watching.  When he was done, he gazed at her as if
beholding something more beautiful than anything man could have ever created in
his mind. He cupped her face gently, kissing her tenderly.

“I shall be back for you.”

He went to the door but she
stopped him before he could leave.

“Matt?”

He paused. “Aye?”

“Please be careful today. I would
have you safe and whole in my arms by evening’s end.”

He grinned. “I shall endeavor to
do my best.”

“I do love you, husband.”

“And I love you.”

The door closed behind him.
Alixandrea leapt out of bed, still wrapped in the linens, and rang for Mary
Joan and Anne. Within fifteen minutes, she was in a hot tub and in danger of a
vigorous scrub-down.

***

The day was brilliant for the
tournament and the lists were jammed with nobility and peasants alike. Banners
waved in the breeze, snapping against the clear blue sky. The southern end of
the field was standing room only and it was packed with peasants that had not
been able to get into the lists. All along the outskirts of the field, people
milled and vendors wandered through the crowd, selling mulled wine and other
food items.  It was already a busy, exciting day.

Alixandrea sat in the lists off
to the left of the king’s box.   Clad in a pale blue silk surcoat with an
undertone of green, she was accompanied by Audrey, Caroline and Mena. Audrey
sat between Alixandrea and her mother, chewing happily on spun sugar and
pointing out all of the knights that she could see. Some were cantering in
around the field to warm up the horses, but most were stationed on the north
edge of the field, preparing for their match. Alixandrea had a clear view of
Matthew and his brothers, gathered near the north entrance.  Every so often, he
would look over at her and wave. She would wave back.

There would be twelve knights
competing in the first round.  Since this was such a highly contested
tournament, only the best of the best were competing. Champions from Arundel,
Somerset, Devon, Caernarfon, Leicester and other big houses were slated against
one another.  Matthew rode for Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, while de
Russe rode for Richard himself.  Even though Alixandrea hated tournaments, the
excitement was catching. Everyone seemed so happy and thrilled.  This promised
to be the biggest tournament of the year and the enthusiasm in the air was palpable.

But there were more houses
competing that were well known Tudor loyalists. When announcing the first
rounds, Dennis la Londe was representing the Earl of Richmond, who happened to
be Howard Terrington’s nearest neighbor and Tudor ally. He was scheduled ride
against the Earl of Westmoreland’s champion, Sir Thomas de Norville.  The
entire first round of matches were Tudor against Plantagenet, although
Alixandrea did not know it at the time. She would only find out later how tense
those first rounds were for the participants.  Everyone had something to prove.

When the horns sounded and the
first match commenced, it took all of Alixandrea’s strength not to cover her
eyes. The crowd was screaming around her, thrilled at the spectacle of
competition. She could only sit there and feign interest. When the lances made
contact, however, she closed her eyes so that she could not see if splinters
put out an eye or severed an artery.  She hoped Matthew could not see that she
was breaking her promise to watch the matches, but she suspected he knew.