by Amelia Brown
“He’ll be getting up soon,” Benedict commented as he drank another long draft of wine.
“Who?” She asked a mixture of surprise and confusion on her face. Benedict had done little flirting that evening, having taken the seat next to her in order to get away from partnering his mother. Lucky for him, Titus was willing to trade spots and his mother was polite enough not to make a fuse, though he was sure he would be getting and earful later.
“Pillar.” He huffed, clearly on to her. “You have looked at the other end of the table many times, you watched him get up and talk to Sir Navarro earlier.” His cocky smile was almost visible behind the rim of his cup.
“Not so, My Lord.” Jane began to protest.
“Not to worry, My Lady,” He cut her off, “he has looked your way a number of times as well.” He let that sink in. “Have you two been introduced.”
Jane stiffened. “No yet.”
“Would you like me to do the honors?” He offered half in jest.
“No.” She stated flatly.
Chuckling he sat back. “You can’t say you aren’t interested, Lady.”
It was her turn to huff. “Not for the reasons you think.”
Benedict only smiled, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Your reasons are your own, My Lady. I merely wished to help a friend.”
“I don’t think he will see it as helping.” She muttered under her breath.
In Benedict’s nearly drunken state his senses were strangely acute. “It’s funny that you thought I was referring to him, Jane.” He commented huskily.
Jane looked at him, startled. She didn’t know if he was drunk or merely remorse. Benedict’s wit was sharp, and they had known each other for years, often meeting in unexpected locations. They had had each other’s back on more than one occasion, though they never met in popular circles.
Leaning in she looked him in the eye. “I can bring down my own quarry, St. James.” She whispered through her teeth. “I don’t need your help.”
“Never said you did, Jane.” He scanned the crowd briefly. “You have it just the same.” He rose and put his goblet down. A woman beckoned him on, a moment later he was swallowed up in the turning masses dancing below.
Jane groaned in frustration. She hadn’t even noticed when the tables had been removed to make way for the dancers. She was in trouble. He eyes found the familiar figure of Titus Pillar and his young son who darted between the lower tables and the high. Why was he even a draw for her, she wondered? He had never even looked her way before now, they had seen each other in passing less than a handful of times. It must be curiosity, she thought. Anyone would be curious about a man who returned from the grave, but that explanation didn’t ring true to her and she was not one to lie to herself, to others yes, but never to herself. Since laying eyes on him the day before, just after arriving for the wedding, she had subconsciously been seeking in out in every gathering. She couldn’t stop her gave from resting on him.
Why did it seem that every time she looked at him, he was looking right back at her? She had never met a man with such a direct gaze. Not even the King looked at her thus. What did it mean?
Jane found herself leaving the high table and mixing with the crowd, not having a destination in mind, but knowing soon or later, she would find her way before the large hearth and into the company of Titus Pillar.
Iain watched the crowd, happy but stiff. Luveday got the feeling that while the man next to her was celebrating their union and anticipating the night ahead, he wasn’t completely relaxed. A part of him still swept the room looking for trouble. She smiled, settling in to his side. He tucked her close, but still looked across the room. She didn’t interrupt but waited until his attention returned to her, as it always did.
“What is that smile for?” He asked warily. He was done with revelry and was ready for the night to be upon them.
“For you, why do you ask?” She said, and he kissed her.
“It wasn’t the same as the last few.” He said. Looking down at her.
Luveday laughed, exhaustion making her a little loopy, or was it the never emptying goblet of wine talking? “Do they have to be the same?”
Iain looked at her closely and smiled another smug little smile. “No,” he paused, “but I know when you are thinking about something.”
“Oh, you know do you?” She offered an opening he couldn’t resist.
“I do.” He said and kissed her. A moment later the crowd roared again, a mixture of cheer and not so subtle innuendos.
Edward raised to his feet and the room stilled. “I believe it is time to put the couple to bed.”
Luveday thought the ceremony was bad, but what was to come made her want to sink into the floor. A moment later she was pulled to her feet and swung into strong arms. Through the laughing faces and lude comments, she saw that Titus and Lady Jane were seated before the hearth, deep in conversation, but didn’t have time to wonder about it, any more than the fact that Benedict had a woman on each arm.
Not a half hour later she lady, scantily clad in the dark depths of the curtained bed. The King and Queen had already surveyed the room and remarked approvingly on its lush contents. Iain stood, stripped to the waist looking as if he might murder the next man through the door.
Neither remembered Gregori’s wedding guests being so bold, but still friends tried to inspect the wedding bed, and give their good wishes. Finally, Gregori, Benedict, Titus, Iain, Fuller and King Edward cleared the room, and hall beyond. No one but Titus glanced at the bed, and he only for a moment before departing wordlessly. Gregori and Benedict whispered sage advice while Fuller and the King merely nodded and went their way out the door. Iain threw the latch, and for good measure wedged a chair against the door. Luveday almost laughed, but her embarrassment kept her hidden behind the covers.
She could see him clearly as he turned in the candle lit room. The soft light bathed his bronzed skin turning it a golden hue. The sudden silence of the room lent an unearthly feeling to the moment. She didn’t blind as he removed his boots and came to the bed. When their eye met neither looked away. Iain didn’t bother removing the rest of his clothes, he crawled across the comforter to get to her, moving smoothly like a prowling jungle cat. He didn’t stop until their lips were sealed. Luveday lost the hold on the comforter, and let her only protection go. Her modesty and embarrassment were forgotten.
He almost growled as pulled away and she followed the retreat. “Luve.” He breathed out on a ragged breath. A heartbeat later they were entwined. The blanket running for the end of the bed. Iain wanted her in his arms, Luveday wanted everything. Every kiss, every caress, every breath, and thoughts, every day and night. Everything. If felt as if she had been waiting her whole life for this man, and once she had found him again, she had come home.
“Iain.” His name was a reprimand as she tried to move to reach more of him, but he blocked her. A moment later they were skin to skin and her frustration was replaced with a contented sigh. That soft emotion didn’t last for more than a heartbeat as the wolf came back to feast. Iain was everywhere, touching everything, taking everything and giving it back to her. They fought to get closer to the other, one moving and the other countering, until they rolled and bucked the friction adding to the need.
They gasped for air, too focused on other things to breath. This was better than either had imagined and they had imagined much the last few days despite the hectic preparations. They had sent little time together since the King had blessed their union and that absence had made them creative.
Iain shaped soft skin and rounded curves and loved every hollow and every inch. He had planned to make this last, but he couldn’t wait and by the noise that were like music to his ears he knew she was not waiting either. He rose over her, “Are you with me, wife?” He was asking so much more than that simple phrase suggested.
Luveday bucked against him, eliciting a gasp and growl as she pulled him down to kiss him soundly. They separated only enough for her to
give her replay against his lips. “Beside you, from eternity, my husband.” He smiled and kissed her again. He would show her with every action and word from that moment onward just how much he loved her, and how wonderful eternity could be.
Luveday stretched as rays of dawn came through the open window and groaned for all the right reasons. Her body was sore, and if felt as if she had but a moments sleep, but her body told her it was time to be up, and not even a night of Iain’s lovemaking could quiet it. She moved, and realized that the bed was empty, though still warm. Once her hazy mind began to work, she realized that the window should have been closed, and so she sought out her husband. The fire in the hearth was smoldering, and a candle rested on the small table beside Iain’s chair. She moved, in the light of day, not bothering to hide behind the blankets. After that night, she was sure Iain was more acquainted with her body than even she was.
He sat before the hearth, in one of the two chairs that remained. The table they had installed for the meeting with his brothers had been removed days prior to make room for the women, and guests that flocked to congratulate Luveday as the happy bride.
He didn’t lift his head when she moved up beside him, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. He looked at something in his hand and held it up as she moved to grab the sheet from the bed of the bed, not because she was shy, but because there was a slight chill in the air. Iain wore only a cloth around his hips. It was part undergarment part loin cloth, and Luveday hadn’t yet learned what it was called, but she likened it to a kilt and put that question in her mind for later, as she took the letter from him.
Settling in his lap, she was immediately drawn closer, back in to his warmth. She held the letter, careful to not wrinkle the parchment. They sat for a moment in contemplative silence, staring at what would change their lives, no doubt for the better. “The King is generous, Luveday.” Iain spoke as if to reassure her.
He couldn’t see the smile on her lips as he kissed her neck, but it was in her voice when she replied. “I know. They are both generous for their friends.” She asked, knowing they asked as much of those closest to them as they gave. It was not a bribe, but an investment.
The seal broke with ease and the parchment crunched a little as she unfolded it. The outer paper was thick and made to protect the finer parchment within from the elements and curious eyes. Iain waited as she shifted until the light was best for reading. Luveday dropped the letter, but he hadn’t gotten very far, his reading skills no match for hers.
“Luveday.” He prompted after a moment of silence. “Luve, I can’t read it in your lap.” He tired lightening the mood, but when she turned to him with a look that said she had forgotten he was there he grew worried. “What does it say, Luve?” He asked gruffly and pulled her back so that he could see over her head. The good thing about his small wife, was that she was an armful, but one perfectly formed for him. He wrapped around her as if she were barely there.
The letter was raised but Iain’s worry made the words jump and tumble around the page. “Read it to me.”
She swallowed audibly. “From King Edward of Anora and Queen Augusta of the Northern Isles. To our most beloved lady. Lady Luveday, soon to Be Lady Luveday De Lane of Lander’s Keep. We write this missive with a joyous heart, and grand all the blessings that are within our power to give.” Iain huffed at the flowery sentiment, knowing the King’s fondness for exaggeration at such times. “At every turn you have shown your loyalty, steadfastness, strength of character and will, and your skill. All that we have asked of you, you have accomplished and more. At every turn you have exceeded our expectations.” Another huff, but with a note of agreement she couldn’t help but notice. “How are we to repay one who has given us so much, and asked nothing for herself?” Luveday swallowed and moved restlessly as Iain rested his check on her head and nuzzled her. It took a moment for her to realize this was his way of asking her to continue. “While we were prepared to give you much, that which you truly wanted is not ours to give.” She faltered a moment knowing it was Augusta that spoke to her in that moment. “And thought we would give you whatever you asked of us, we know you will not ask for much at all, and so we have thought long on the matter. For your tireless efforts to return our son to us, we give the title of Royal Healer, and Master of the Healing Arts, and all the appointments and benefits thereof. We know you will not think this much a gift as it means you will have to spend more time at court, but we know your presence will do much good.” Iain laughed.
“They have given you a title you’ve earned twice over, all the trouble and intrigue of court, in exchange for the Healing Rooms in Kingston. You will have more work monitoring the healer’s guilds than you will ever need.” Luveday’s ears perked up.
“Monitoring how?” She asked, and he groaned at the interest in her voice.
“The royal healer sets the laws and procedures for the healing arts, for the last dozen years it has been Master Pope.” They both almost spit at the man’s name. “Now it will be you, but I doubt that old fool spent more than a few days at the Healing Rooms in all that time. The guide has regulated itself for the most part, it is why they are more focused on coin than learning the true art. Anyone is allowed in these days.” Iain laughed again, and she couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in his voice, but that didn’t spot her mind from turning. She had heard about the Healing Rooms in passing, though what she had heard never seemed to make sense. She had thought the place a kind of hospital or house where healers learned their skill, but the next instance it sounded like a guildhall where wares were bartered, and prices set. Perhaps it was both, she wondered and thought to remind herself to ask Cassandra more about it later.
“So, I will get all the responsibility and nothing else?” She asked, not knowing what kind of gift that was.
“You will get a steady stream of Healing supplies, the newest and rarest items from overseas, and rooms at court as well as near the Healing Rooms.” He stated unimpressed.
“How much will that cost us?” She asked aloud.
“Nothing so long as you remain the Royal Healer, it is your duty to learn everything you can to keep the royal line in utmost health, and maybe some court favorites too.” He added as an afterthought.
“Books, and herbs, and…” She looked over her shoulder at him.
“And anything your little curious mind desires. No doubt the steward will have trouble keeping up with your demands.” He laughed seeing the gleam in her eye. She nodded in agreement and tried to distract him by bringing them back to the matter at hand. “What else does the letter say?”
She held it up again, “Where was I? Ah, for rescue of our other son through the battlefields of the North,” Iain laughed aloud startling her, and himself. He didn’t think he would ever laugh at what Sterling had almost accomplished, but the letter was too much. “Can I continue?” She asked trying to be stern and not to laugh as well. He kissed her and after a heady moment bayed her continue. “Through the battlefields of the North, we grant Sterling’s personal stock. Two dozen cattle, four war horses, eight gray belly pigs, fifteen geese, three goats, five purebred Northvale wolfhounds of both sexes and four peacocks. The animal and Warhorse were taken during the victory in the North, Lord Frazier has been housing them and Sterling’s squire since then and will deliver said gifts a fortnight after the wedding.” The hum in her ear was thoughtful.
“I’ve heard of Northvale wolfhounds, are they not prized for something?”
“Aye, their intelligence and loyalty. Their hunting skills are unequalled. They are a fine prize in themselves.”
“Isn’t Sterling’s personal stock the animals he carted around with him so that his plate was always full?” She asked having heard tales of the lavishness that the man had demanded always surround him. “Vain, selfish, vicious, bastard.” She said aloud causing Iain to laugh and rock her in his arms.
“Aye my Luve, he was all that and more. May he rot in hell.” Luveday concurred know that she should learn t
o forgive, but his crimes were still to fresh for her to even thing about such things yet.
She turned back to the letter. “For you return of our dear, lost, Lord Pillar.” Iain snorted, not yet deciding how he felt about the man. Luveday knew that much of his animosity for Titus was the fact that he has almost taken her from him. Luveday wasn’t sure how true that statement was, for though she felt for Titus, and knew in her bones that they could have built a wonderful life together, a part of her would have always belonged with Iain. She had not come to care for the returned Lord as much as Iain might have thought. Those feelings were only just forming when Iain had stepped back into her life, and she only thought of them in the light that she knew she had hurt Titus in some way and was saddened by it and the loss of Artair’s happy presence.
She missed the boy terribly and their reunion had been tearful and hurt her all the more for she knew it was short lived. She cleared her throat and the weight that settled there. “For Pillar and the delicate handling of the House of the Rose, we grant as portion of its produce, with Pillars blessing, to continue your work started there, and a portion of the coin your new potions will bring for three harvests. Pillar speaks highly of your suggestions and already there is much interest here at court.”
