A Dangerous Love (22 page)

“I haven’t eaten so well since I left Stanton in April, lovey,” he told her. “I suppose you’ll want to know everything that has happened.”

“Don’t tease me,” Adair pleaded.

His eyes grew warm. “But teasing you is so much fun,” he said.

“There will be none of
that
, my lord, until I have heard everything,” she threatened him mischievously.

And the tip of her tongue played a moment with her upper lip as their eyes met.

“Jesu, you’re a wicked wench,” he said low, feeling the tightening in his groin.

“Speak, my lord!” she commanded him. “And speak loudly, for everyone would hear your adventures.

Gather around, Stanton folk, and hear what your earl has to tell you,” she called to the servants and others in the hall.

“Richard, formerly Duke of Gloucester, has been crowned your king, the third of that name,” the earl began, and there was a collective gasp of astonishment from those assembled listening. Andrew then went on to explain exactly how this had come about. Those gathered were slightly confused by what they were hearing, especially the canon law that would bastardize the former king’s children and disinherit them.

“Why wasn’t this previous contract brought up when King Edward first wed his queen, and before she spawned all her bairns?” Albert asked candidly.

The earl shrugged. “I am not privy to the reasoning of the church,” he replied. “I believe it was decided among the powerful lords that having a boy king could lead to many difficulties, given his mother and her family. They wanted an excuse to set the lad aside and offer the crown to the duke. They found it.”

“Where are little Edward and Dickie?” Adair asked.

“King Richard had them sent to Middleham, al
though this is not widely known. He felt they would be safer away from the seat of his influence. The queen managed to suborn several important men. They were caught and arrested. It was at that point the boys were removed from the Tower. Parliament and the powerful 
families need the king to be entirely secure. No one wants a civil war, but Elizabeth Woodville and her co-horts cannot see that there will be one if she continues to persist in her efforts to hold on to the reins of power through her sons. They think that by having her bottled up in sanctuary they can contain her. But I will wager she continues to plot and scheme.”

“He’s a strong and honorable man who will brook no nonsense,” Albert remarked. “That will be good for us all. Say on, my lord.”

The Earl of Stanton continued his recitation of his adventures. He told them about the coronation, and how just about every noble family of note in England had been in attendance. Even Lady Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry of Lancaster, had been there. “I stayed no longer than to see the crown placed upon his head, and our good duke anointed and declared the rightful king of England,” Andrew said. “Then my men and I took horse to return to Stanton. So now, all of you, hail King Richard the Third,” he concluded. Three loud huz-zahs erupted from those in the hall. There was no doubt that Stanton would stand for the new king.

Adair’s violet eyes were shining. “Uncle Dickon will make a fine king,” she said.

“He still has much to overcome, I fear,” Andrew answered her. “Elizabeth Woodville hates the king with every fiber of her being. She will continue to cause trouble, and will not rest until one of them is dead. And he is too much of a gentleman to see the bitch killed.”

“I would poison her,” Adair said. “But tell me, was the new queen there in London? And what about little Neddie?”

“She was there, and crowned with him,” the earl told his wife. “The little prince, however, remains at Middleham. You know how fragile his health has been since his birth, poor child.”

Adair’s eyes filled with tears. “I wonder if he will live to manhood,” she said. “And poor Lady Anne has never
 
conceived again. Uncle Dickon may have to one day declare Henry of Lancaster or one of my half brothers his heir, for he will have no other choice, though Buckingham thinks his claim is equal or greater.”

“Enough, lovey, of things that do not really concern us,” the earl said. “I would take my wife to bed after so long an absence from her.”

“You need a bath, my lord,” Adair told him. “I know you have not had one since you left Stanton, for you are rank. Let me bathe you, and then we will go to bed.”

“Only if you will bathe me with your own little hands,” he told her, his eyes twinkling lustfully. “Elsbeth is too rough with me.”

Adair giggled. “It is my duty to care for you in all ways, my lord.” She arose from the high board where they were still seated. “Let me order that the water be heated before we leave the hall.” With a seductive smile and a curtsy she hurried off.

He sat watching the gentle swing of her hips beneath her gown as she went, thinking to himself that he was a fortunate man indeed to have been given such a wife.

And he would have had her even without the title she brought him. He tilted his goblet in the direction of the standing server, and it was filled again with ale. He sipped it slowly, awaiting her return, but instead it was Elsbeth who came and murmured in his ear.

“My mistress awaits you in the bathing room, my lord,” she said.

Without a word Andrew got up from the high board and, leaving the hall, climbed the stairs to the corridor above. Opening the door to the bathing room, he was greeted by a cloud of scented steam. The fire in the little hearth leaped with the draft from his entrance. He quickly shut the portal. “Adair?” he called to her.

“I am here,” she answered him.

He peered through the steam. “Where, lovey?”

“Here.” She giggled. “In the tub. If you do not get your clothing off soon, my lord, the water will cool. I can 
hardly bathe you with my own little hands if I am not here in the tub with you. Did you not think of that?”

It was all the encouragement he needed. He tore his clothing off, his boots, flinging them carelessly aside.

Then, walking to the tall oak tub, he climbed the steps and climbed into it, coming face-to-face with his wife as he did so.

“There,” she purred at him. “Isn’t this nice, my lord?”

And taking up a sea sponge filled with soap, she began to wash him. When her hands moved to his genitals she smiled a wicked little smile, for his love rod was already hard with his lust for her. “Just a moment more, my lord.

Your hair will need attending to before you may enter my bed.” She quickly scrubbed his dark locks, and he grumbled that she was even worse than Elsbeth. Laughing, Adair rinsed his hair with the two pitchers of clean water on the shelf of the tub’s wide rim. Then, while he was attempting to get the water from his eyes, she climbed from the tub. “Come along, my lord; do not dally,” she said.

Able to see once again, he looked about for her.

“Where have you gotten to now, lovey?” he wanted to know.

“I am here waiting to dry you,” she murmured seductively.

He exited their tub, and his lust for her was most visible. “Not yet,” he growled, and, grabbing her, he backed her against the tall wooden tub. “First, wife, you will take the edge off of my lust. Put your arms about my neck.” And as she did so his two big hands cupped her buttocks and raised her up.

Adair squealed with surprise, but she instinctively opened her legs to wrap them about his torso as he thrust eagerly into her body. He was so hard, and she gasped with pleasure as he pumped into her with a fierce, quick rhythm. “Oh, God, Andrew!” Her own passions rose to flood her entire being. “Don’t stop. If you stop I will kill you!”

He laughed low. “This is but the beginning, Adair. I have missed you more than I was even willing to admit to myself.” His loins banged again and again against her.

“I mean to do this with you most of the night long.” His lips found hers in a burning kiss.

She almost devoured his mouth. Their tongues fought a pitched battle until her head was spinning and Adair felt entirely out of control of her own body. She moaned deep in her throat, every sense heightened as their wet bodies rubbed and pressed against each other. And then there was no holding her desires in any kind of check.

She threw back her head and screamed as a mutual satisfaction overwhelmed them both. Together they collapsed onto the stone floor of the bathing chamber, their combined breaths coming in sharp, quick pants that slowly, slowly grew quieter.

He found his voice first. “I am sated for a few minutes,” he said with humor.

Adair laughed weakly. “May I dry you now, my lord?”

she inquired of him mischievously. “That is, if I can make my legs stand up.”

He struggled to his feet first, and then drew her up beside him. “Attend me, wife,” he told her, holding her up.

For a moment she clung to him, but then as the strength seeped back into her body Adair took up a small wet cloth and bathed his manhood, then dried it.

Next she lifted a large cloth from its rack before the small hearth and dried him carefully. When she had finished she said, “Go and get into bed, Andrew. I don’t want you catching the ague. I will join you when I have attended to myself.” She gave him a quick kiss upon his lips and a gentle shove toward the door to her bedchamber. And when she had washed her own sex, she dried herself before hurrying to join him.

He lay upon their bed, his manhood gracefully limp upon his muscled thigh. When he held out his arms Adair ran to join him. There were no words spoken be
tween them for some time. None were really necessary.

They lay together, leisurely exploring each other’s body, to their mutual pleasure. His absence had changed something between them, Adair realized. Their marriage, begun a few months ago for practical reasons, had blossomed into love. Perhaps, she thought, it was not the wild passion shared between the new king and his queen, but a different, special love between Andrew and her.

She ran a finger down his chest and, leaning over him, kissed him. “I believe I can say with all honesty that I missed you too, husband.”

“Did I say I missed you?” he teased. “A moment of weakness, lovey.”

“Villain!” She yanked at his mop of dark hair.

“Vixen!” He pulled her back into his arms, kissing her soundly. And with each moment their desire for each other rose once more. Andrew buried his face in her scented hair. “God help me, Adair, I have never wanted any woman the way I want you!” He put her beneath him, and his mouth began to both taste and explore her sweet flesh. His lips closed over each of her nipples in turn, licking, suckling, and then he was nipping with his teeth at the tender buds. Then his kisses moved over her torso with a gentle lust.

Adair’s fingers kneaded his shoulders and back. His lovemaking was setting her afire with longing. When finally he slipped his manhood into her well-prepared lover’s sheath she sighed deeply, her eyes closing as she allowed herself to be surrounded with the pure sensation of his now-frenzied passion. She soared and flew as the hunger between them grew until it exploded in a fiery burst that left them both gasping for air. And true to his word, Andrew made love to Adair several times that night until, sated herself, she cautioned him that they would need to sleep if they were to perform their duties on the morrow. Then she slept, content with the life she now had, confident in the days that stretched
 
ahead. There would be a child eventually. How could a child not come from the love that now bloomed between them?

In the autumn there came word from Adair’s half sister, Elizabeth, still in sanctuary, that there had been some small risings against King Richard in Dorset, Devon, and Kent.
But naught has come of it, and Mama is quite
disappointed,
Bess wrote.
She schemes without ceasing,
and a match has almost been settled now between me and
Lady Margaret’s son, Henry of Lancaster, although what
good it will do I cannot say, for if I leave Westminster,
Uncle Dickon will surely seize me, and in his custody I
will not be allowed to wed the heir to Lancaster.

“Poor Bess,” Adair said as she put aside the letter.

“Of course she won’t be allowed to wed Henry Tudor, if Uncle Dickon has anything to say about it. The heiress to York marrying the heir to Lancaster? It would consti-tute a threat to Uncle Dickon’s authority. Of course, the Woodville woman would like that.”

“But the king has only one heir,” Andrew noted, “and if truth be told, little Neddie is very frail, as is the queen.”

Adair sighed. “I know. If they should die—God forbid it—then Uncle Dickon must wed again for his—and England’s—sake. He loves the queen so deeply that I do not know if he could do it.”

A small epidemic broke out in Stanton village. Several children and at least three adults ran high fevers, and their cheeks grew quite swollen for a time, but there were no deaths. Adair had never seen such an illness before, but Andrew assured her it would be all right. “I had the swelling sickness when I was a child,” he said,

“and as you can see I am quite healthy today.”

But Elsbeth grew pale when she learned what the earl had said to his wife. She took Adair aside, saying, 
“It is said that men who have had the swelling sickness 
at any time in their lives are unable to sire children afterward. I believe this may be why you are not conceiving a child, my lady.” Her eyes filled with tears.

“Do not say it!” Adair cried, and then she began to weep. “We must have a child for Stanton. The difficulty is with me, Nursie. I did not love Andrew when we wed, but I love him now. Children are created from love.”

Elsbeth took the young woman in her arms and comforted her as best she could. She did not say that Adair’s maternal grandmother had produced eleven children, and her mother’s two sisters an equal number of offspring. Jane Radcliffe would have had a houseful of bairns had her husband been able to give them to her.

And considering the amount of time Adair and Andrew spent in their bed, Adair should already be great with child. But she was not. And in the months to follow her belly remained flat.