by Leila Snow
Nate neared her, but stopped short of touching her. His close proximity sent a thrill through her and her body hummed with awareness. She gulped a breath of air and forced herself not to reach out to him. She saw Nathaniel clench his fists at his sides and prayed he was fighting the same war she herself fought. His breath came in short bursts as he looked down at her, the love that shone in his eyes made her rejoice and yet simultaneously broke her heart.
"It is nothing," she whispered.
"If you are afraid then it is everything," he spoke low and intensely. "Tell me what it is. Anything. And I will fix it. No matter the cost. But you must tell me Linny."
And Madeline finally understood. The realisation of the depth of their mutual love sent her staggering backwards clutching at her chest. He spoke truth. If she asked him, he would put himself between her and the king. And he would lose his life for it. She leaned her forehead against the rough bark of a nearby tree and willed her heart to resume beating, and for the air to return to her burning lungs.
"Madeline!" she heard Nate cry out. But she pulled away when he touched her arm.
"Don't touch me," she managed to choke out. "I cannot be responsible if you do. I will not be able to hold firm in what I know I must do."
"I don't understand, Linny," he begged her.
She forced herself to calmness for his sake. "I overreact," she said, her jaw clenched with the effort. "I am simply concerned for Lord Endle's health," she lied and watched desolately as the spark died out within Nathaniel's eyes. "Let us be back to the castle now," she requested briskly, before her determination yielded.
He nodded without speaking and averted his eyes from her. "Aye, the morn passes," he said forlornly. "But before we away, there is something I must tell you, though you will find out soon enough."
"Pray tell," she said, forcing polite attention, though she could barely breathe past the ever-tightening constriction in her chest.
"Lady Aileth and I are to be wed," he stated simply, his shoulders sagging.
At his words, Madeline felt a sharp, burning pain as if she'd just been stabbed through with a double-edged long sword. She nodded, gripping the tree for support.
"Thank you for telling me," she gasped. "I would like a few moments alone to consider your fortuitous news. Please leave me."
"Linny," he begged.
"Leave me!" she shouted at him, praying he would depart before the torrent of tears descended upon her.
"I cannot!" he cried, "I cannot abandon you like this."
A great sob of heartbreak and despair burst from her throat. Her legs would not support her and she fell to her knees at Nathaniel's feet. In an instant, he was beside her, lifting her from the cold ground. He rocked her in his arms, just as he had when she was a child. Tears ran down her face and she was unable to tell whether they were hers or his.
They clung to each other for a long moment, until finally Madeline's fear that they would be discovered overruled all else. She reluctantly unwrapped her arms from his warm and familiar body, allowing herself one last time to reach up and run her fingers through the fair waves of his hair and down over the stubble that covered his square jawline.
He groaned at her touch and his mouth descended towards hers. She forced every ounce of willpower into her legs as she scrambled from his lap. She backed away from him with her hands held out in front of her. "Don't Nate. I cannot bear it," she pleaded. "We must be off before we are discovered."
She saw the hurt flicker across his features but steeled herself to it.
"As you wish," he said softly, as he slowly, and heavily, pulled himself to his feet.
* * *
They spoke not another word as they walked up the slope towards the palace. They had not yet reached the drawbridge when the Baron Montagu, accompanied by Sir Gareth, met them.
"Have you enjoyed your morning walk?" Lord William asked searchingly. His penetrating gaze roving over them, taking everything in.
"Indeed I have," Madeline said brightly, forcing a smile onto her face. "Though it is quite cold," she added, hoping it would explain her red, puffy face.
"I hope that you are not too chilled to take a turn about the park with me," the king's friend said pointedly. "Perhaps Sir Gareth here, can relieve your captain?"
"It would be a pleasure," Madeline said, her heart sinking.
"Excellent," the man said, dismissing Nathaniel with a flick of his hand.
Madeline didn't dare so much as glance at Nate as he left, though she could feel his questioning eyes on her.
"Lady Madeline," Lord William said, offering his left arm.
She rested just the tips of her fingers in the crook of his elbow.
"I will come right to the point, my Lady," he began without preamble. "I imagine you are genuinely chilled and I would not keep you any longer than possible."
"Most kind of you, my Lord," Madeline murmured with just the slightest caustic inflection.
As he had the night before, he once again surprised her by throwing his head back and giving a bark of laughter. "I begin to see what he sees in you," he burst out. "Besides your beauty of course." Then he sobered and said more seriously, "Let us not equivocate, though. You are clearly an intelligent woman and I have appointed myself the king's keeper. Thus, we must have a discussion."
Madeline nodded reluctantly. "I understand," she agreed unhappily.
"The king is infatuated with you," he said bluntly.
"It is not an attention I have sought," she affirmed, unwilling to sidestep the issue.
"I find that I actually believe you," the baron admitted. "I had expected the opposite. But it may be that my concerns are for naught."
"Concerns?" Madeline asked, confused.
"Aye," he said, thoughtfully. "The king is young. Until only a year ago his kingdom was not truly his. As his longest, and most loyal friend, I intend to ensure that he is not again influenced unduly by one who does not have his best interests at heart."
"I have no interests at all," she confessed honestly. "I have no desire to influence a king."
"Nevertheless, intentionally or not, influence him you will," he stated.
"Not if you will assist me," she cajoled. "I am a married woman. I desire nothing more than to remain faithful to my husband."
"A woman of true virtue?" Lord William asked, his eyebrows lifted. "You would decline the attentions of a king?"
Madeline stopped walking and turned to look the man in the eye. "I would," she said simply.
He shook his head incredulously at her. "It seems I have grossly misjudged you. You have my admiration, my Lady."
She gave him a small, sad smile but said nothing. And for a few moments, he stared at her thoughtfully.
"You do realize you have no choice?" he finally said. "Even I could not sway King Edward's mind once he has it made. And be assured that he has."
"Truly?" she whispered, surprised that her heart could sink even further than it already had today.
A brief expression of compassion glinted on the baron's face. "There is nothing I can do," he said, shrugging. "Other than to make certain you are compensated for your time."
"Compensated!" Madeline exclaimed, grievously insulted. "How can I possibly be compensated for my lack of faithfulness? For my honour? For the use of my body?" she chastised him hotly.
"I will speak with the king about being discreet," he said, shaking his head. "But he is the king. That is all I can do."
"And if I refuse?" Madeline demanded.
The man sighed and turned them in the direction of the castle.
"I cannot recommend it," he advised heavily.
* * *
Cedric came for her in the late afternoon. Madeline had been expecting him. The king's physicians were long gone, having deliberated over Endle for hours but coming up with no solid conclusion on the cause of his illness. He seemed to have taken another turn for the worse and had once again vomited up the broth Muriel had brought him earlier. Madeline
spent much of the afternoon reading to him. When he tired, she tucked a blanket about him whilst he dozed by the fire. As a distraction, she had even attempted some much-despised needlepoint. But she had been waiting all the while for this knock upon the door.
"Eh?" Endle said, roused from his slumber. "Who is that, my dear?"
"I will just see," Madeline said rising from her seat and going to the door.
"Good day, my Lady, my Lord," Cedric said with a bow, as she opened the door and he swept into the room.
"Cedric," Endle greeted him. "Does the king request an audience?" he asked, attempting to rise.
"Nay, my Lord, do not trouble yourself," the steward urged. "The king is aware that you are unwell."
Endle sank back into the chair. "Please convey my thanks for the many kindnesses he has shown us. Oh, and Cedric, there is a letter on the table. It is a request for marriage between one of Lady Madeline's knights and my own niece. I ask that you ensure King Edward himself receives it."
Madeline blanched and when she looked down she could see her knuckles white where they gripped the chair before her.
Cedric nodded and picked up the sealed piece of parchment from the table. "I will indeed deliver it to his hand, my Lord. The king also wondered if he could interest Lady Madeline in a turn about the courtyard?"
"That is very considerate of him," Lord Endle smiled. "I'm sure Lady Madeline would relish the opportunity to escape these four walls and her sickly husband," he said with a generous smile at his wife.
"Nay, husband," Madeline said softly, moving closer to him. "I would stay with you."
"Nonsense, my dear," he insisted. "You will be going stir crazy and you must give my regards to the king."
"Do not ask me to go, Endle," she begged faintly.
Her resistance confused him and he gave her a searching look. "We cannot afford to offend the king," he said quietly. "His requests are to be treated as orders."
"I understand," Madeline said reluctantly. "I will go as you wish, my Lord."
"Take your warm cape with you," her husband reminded her thoughtfully. "I shouldn't want you to catch a chill."
"You are consideration itself, dear husband," she voiced with compassion. Impulsively, she leaned down to kiss his bewhiskered cheek.
Endle beamed, his eyes alight with pride in his wife. "You are the joy of my life," he lauded her.
"I sincerely pray that never changes, Endle," she said markedly, her voice tinged with regret.
* * *
Cedric led her along empty corridors and passageways, down into the bowels of the castle. Madeline did not see a soul as she followed behind him.
"I won't need my cloak, will I Cedric?" she asked reluctantly.
"Nay, my Lady," he acknowledged.
A few more winding passageways and turns, and Cedric came to an abrupt halt. Madeline looked around herself at the empty hall, nary a person nor door in sight.
"This is where I leave you, my Lady," he said, bowing.
"Where am I to go?" she asked, confused.
"The king requests that you remain here," the man insisted as he backed from her, and then turned and strode off as nonchalantly as he had come.
Madeline stood for several long moments in the quiet solitude of the corridor.
"And how long am I expected to wait?" she pondered aloud after some time.
"I pray that it was not overly long," came an amused voice from behind her.
She spun, to see the king striding purposely towards her from the opposite direction. His head was bare of his crown now and he wore a simple, comfortable tunic.
"Sire," she articulated, sinking down to her knees.
"It is Edward between us," he reminded her lightly as he reached down and, with his fingers, tipped her chin up to meet his heated gaze.
But beauty cannot be restored
Where such a blight has been,
And all the rivers in the world
Can never wash me clean.
~Ada Cambridge
CHAPTER 22
"Do you know the history of the palace?" Edward asked as he grasped Madeline's hand and raised her to her feet.
"Some," she answered, confused at his choice of conversation.
"Perhaps you have heard of The Fair Rosamund?" he questioned, an eyebrow raised.
"Of course," Madeline said in a hushed tone. "She was much favoured by Henry Plantagenet."
"Indeed, she was," the king responded in a low, soothing voice. Her hand still within his, he led her down the corridor back in the direction he had come. "It is said that Henry was so enamoured of his beautiful mistress, that he had secret apartments built for her right outside the castle walls here at Woodstock. Thus, he was able to visit her whenever he wished."
"Yes, but it is purely legend, is it not?" she voiced, nervous by the course of the conversation.
The king pulled her to a sudden stop in the darkened hallway. Secreted into the wall before them stood an intricately carved wood panel, flush from floor to ceiling. Placing his hand on the edge of the panel, he turned to Madeline and said, "Nay, it is not, my dear Lady." A mischievous smile crept across his face as he pushed hard, and the panel swung inward as if on hinges. "Et voila!" he declared. Stepping through the opening, he pulled a shocked Madeline along behind him. "There are hidden passageways throughout the castle. A veritable labyrinth of tunnels, indeed most of the bedrooms are connected. I do believe my ancestor felt more secure if he kept apprised of the goings-on taking place under his nose, eh?" he chuckled.
Grasping a torch from the wall, he handed it to her. "If you would, my sweet." He pulled the concealed door closed behind them and flipped a hidden latch. "It locks from the inside," he explained. "Quite convenient," he grinned at her.
Madeline felt as if she was lost in a dream, unable to wake. She pinched herself and blinked but when her eyes opened, she remained in the confined passageway with the handsome, young ruler of England.
"Now we are finally alone," he murmured as he took the torch from her. "I have been waiting for this since the moment I met you." The tunnel was so narrow that the fabric of her dress brushed against the king's tunic, yet she could not step away with the cold wall at her back.
"Are you frightened?" he asked considerately.
"Aye," she breathed.
"Have no fear, for you are my Rosamund," he whispered in her ear. "Come," he uttered as he grasped her hand once again and guided her along the dark passageway. "It is just ahead," he said after a few silent moments. Handing her the torch once again, he fumbled with the wooden door in front of them. With a groan, it swung open. "Your boudoir awaits," he announced gallantly as he waved his hand for her to precede him into the room.
The chamber was bright after the darkness of the passageway, though it was only lit by the fire that roared in the great hearth. It was a small but cozy and well-appointed room. Furs covered the floors so that the stones were not even visible. A great bed sat in the very centre of the room, though Madeline refused to look at it as her stomach began to swirl with nerves and uncertainty. She did, however, notice that it was draped all about in the king's royal red. To her chagrin and dismay, she saw that the walls were adorned with detailed tapestries depicting men and women in various acts of copulation. She blushed furiously and looked away. Before the fire lay a mountain of pillows and centred between them, a low table. Two silver goblets and a carafe filled with red wine sat upon it, along with a trencher of bread and various cheeses.
"Does it suit, my fair Rosamund?" Edward asked with the faintest note of uncertainty, and suddenly looking every bit the young man that he was.
"It is a beautiful room," Madeline said honestly. "But why do you do this Edward?" she asked bluntly. "I have not sought your attentions."
"Perhaps that is why I am infatuated with you. I have grown from childhood with the fawning of the masses. In your eyes however, not once have I seen anything but genuine sincerity. I long, if only once, to be with someone simply as a man
is with a woman. Not as a king and his subject."
"Oh Edward," she sighed. "Our paths are pre-determined for us despite our own wills, aren't they?"
"They are," he agreed softly. "But for now, I am determined to make my own path. If only for a short time."
He stepped closer to her so that they were touching, but he left his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Ever so slowly he lowered his head down and gently brushed his lips against her own. Madeline didn't step away from his touch but held herself firm. His mouth was warm and soft against hers. For a short moment, she recalled the beauty of Nathaniel's kiss and swayed towards him. Her experience with the passionate feelings of love and lust had been so brief and so long ago. And now Nate was gone to her. He married another soon. The thought brought an intense bolt of pain and she pulled away from the king with a gasping breath.
He chuckled, misunderstanding her reaction. "A glass of wine, my Lady?" he asked, stepping towards the small table in front of the fire.
"Please," she choked out, and lowered herself to the cushions when he gestured for her to sit.
Edward handed her a goblet, then lifted his own. "To us," he toasted.
Madeline nodded briefly and took a long draught of the excellent vintage. The king grinned at her and took a sip of his own, then set the cup on the table. He shuffled closer and lifted his hand to pluck the veil from her head. "Might I play the maid?" he requested as he began to pull the pins from her coiffure. "I have never seen hair this colour before. Like the embers of a fire," he said mesmerised, as he tantalisingly undid the braids and pulled the loose curls through his fingers.
"Sire..." Madeline breathed, almost in a panic.
"Edward," he reiterated. "I am just Edward with you," he said as he dropped his mouth to her neck and began to nuzzle at the sensitive flesh.
"Edward," she begged.
"Mmmm," he murmured against her collarbone and his fingers moved up to tease at the laces of her dress. Loosening it, he pulled the fabric aside, whilst his lips moved lower.
