by Barb Hendee
How delicious.
Thankfully, they didn’t know him on a more personal level. They didn’t know he was in love with a ghost and had not a single care for me.
But even Rowan appeared to enjoy the evening. He drank only two small goblets of wine and spent much of his time in close conversation with my brother, Henri. Those two seemed good friends already.
Near midnight, the lively chatter had still not begun to abate, and I found myself growing weary. It had been a long day. I wondered if I might take my leave for a moment or two. When no one was looking, I extracted myself and walked out the main archway, wanting a short span of time to myself.
To my mild consternation, Genève followed me. I was well aware how much I owed her for the events of today—but her presence always reminded me how much I owed.
Somehow, I smiled. “My lady. It was a successful day.”
She didn’t smile back and moved closer. We were alone out here in the round entrance chamber.
“Yes, the council is pleased, but a few have expressed concerns.” Her voice was so low I strained to hear it.
“Concerns?” I repeated. Had I not done well so far?
“You are still at some risk. Why have you not managed to take Rowan into your bed?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. Months had gone by, and she’d not said a word in this regard. Another thought struck me.
“How would the council members know?”
“Don’t be a fool. They have spies among the staff. They all have spies. It’s to be expected.”
I wanted to fade into the wall. The council knew. They all knew that the new queen held no attraction for the king.
“Your task is to provide heirs,” she went on. “I’ve not spoken because you’re clever, and I assumed you’d manage him.” Her voice hardened. “Get him into bed, Olivia. He must plant his seed inside you.”
All my confidence fled. I was no temptress. Even knowing how weak I sounded, I whispered, “I don’t know how. I don’t know of any way to make him want me.”
Her voice grew harder. “Find one.”
* * * *
Over the next few days, I smiled and feigned enjoyment as we continued to host our guests. But much of my joy was tarnished, and I wasn’t sleeping well at night.
Finally, most of the guests began heading for home.
Only the council remained, and would soon convene for autumn business.
My father bid me a polite good-bye, but he glanced at my flat stomach, as if he wondered when he would be the grandfather of a king. Henri hugged me, picking my feet up off the ground. I reveled in his affection and wished he were not leaving.
“Thank you for being so kind to the king,” I said, and I meant it. “He is well liked, but he finds conversation in large groups to be difficult.”
I’m not sure how I’d reasoned that, but I had. Rowan wasn’t comfortable in large groups of other nobles where he was expected to mingle and make conversation.
Henri waved one hand. “He’s splendid. My time here has passed too quickly.” Then he kissed the side of my face. “You are a fortunate girl, and you’ve done well. You deserve this happiness.”
Had we been alone, I’d have broken down and begged him to tell me how to seduce a man.
But we were not alone.
My family rode away. By that evening, the castle achieved a more normal state of existence, but I was now alone in this place with Genève and the men of the council…and they all expected the same thing from me.
* * * *
A few nights later, an idea came to me. At first, the very prospect was so revolting that I pushed it away, but it kept creeping back, and by this point, I was willing to try anything.
I was already in bed, in my nightgown.
The idea would not leave me alone. More details began to form.
Rising, I donned my silk robe over the top of my nightgown, and I slipped from the room. At this time of night, the castle would be empty but for a few guards. I hurried downstairs and up the corridor, stopping at the entry chamber before the great hall. Then I dashed across, into a corridor leading east, and I made my way to the first tower. Climbing the curving stone steps, I made my way to Rowan’s room.
Outside his door, I hesitated, wondering if I could go through with this.
Then I knocked.
It took a few moments, but the door opened from the other side, and he looked out. His hair was tousled as if he’d just woken up, but he still wore the same tunic and black pants he’d worn at dinner. Had he fallen asleep dressed?
At the sight of me, his eyes filled with alarm. “Olivia? What’s wrong? Is my mother ill?”
How tragic that a wife should knock on her husband’s door in the middle of the night, and his only assumption could be that some emergency was taking place.
“No…I…I only wanted to speak to you. May I come in?”
Discomfort crossed his features, but he stood back and held the door to let me in. Once inside, I slowly pulled the door from his hand and closed it.
He frowned upon noticing I wore nothing but my robe and white nightgown. “Did you cross the castle dressed like that?”
“No one saw me.”
“What is this about?” he asked carefully.
We were in his main sitting chambers, but the door to his bedroom was open, and I could see his rumpled bedclothes.
Desperately, I hoped I would not need to employ the plan in the back of my mind. Perhaps if I approached him on a platform of honesty and reason, he might agree and take advantage of the fact that we were alone in his chambers.
“Your mother has been to see me,” I began. “She and the council know you and I have not consummated the marriage.”
He didn’t react.
“Your mother applied pressure on me,” I continued, “to resolve the matter and find a way to get you into my bed.”
“And what did you say to her?” His voice was tight.
“That I didn’t know how.” I looked into his eyes. “I don’t know how. That’s why I’ve come to you.”
His tension vanished, and he ran a hand over his face. “Olivia, I am sorry you’ve been trapped by all this. I’ve not known what to say, but I have been sorry for you.”
He’d been sorry for me? I wish he’d spoken sooner. It might have made some days more bearable.
“And you don’t find me repellent?” I asked.
“No man would find you repellent.”
I couldn’t believe he was saying these things to me, and felt a weight come off my shoulders. I would not need to employ my dark and degrading plan.
“Then can we not at least…consummate our union? Can we not make an heir?” As these words left my mouth, his tension returned, and I rushed on. “Please forgive this indelicacy, but your mother told me that you’ve kept mistresses…for the needs of your body. Can you not try to see me as one of them?”
This suggestion was beyond indelicate, but the two of us were beyond polite sparring.
He sighed and moved toward a couch. “Come and sit with me.”
Seeing this as a good sign, I obeyed, sitting beside him.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ve kept mistresses, but not since…not since…”
He didn’t finish, but he didn’t need to.
“Not since Ashton’s death,” I finished for him.
His eyes flew to my face.
I nodded. “I know you loved her as much more than a sister.”
“She was not my sister.” As opposed to offended, though, he sounded relieved to be speaking of this. “You don’t understand. When I first came to this castle, I was twelve years old, and I didn’t want to be here. My father was dead, and I was expected to be overjoyed at the prospect of a new father. But when I first entered the great hall with some of our retinue,
I saw a little girl with black hair. She was so tiny and so pretty. She’d barely learned to walk. One of our dogs barked, and it frightened her. She ran to me, and I picked her up.” He paused. “Whenever she was startled or frightened, she ran to me. She always ran to me for protection.”
Yes, but who could possibly protect her from you?
I remained silent.
“Ashton is the only person I’ve ever loved,” he said. “And now that she’s gone, I can’t…I can’t…I’m sorry, Olivia. I know what is expected of us, but I can’t.”
As the truth washed over me, I began to feel ill.
Honesty and reason would not work here. I needed to employ other methods.
“Close your eyes,” I said. “Let me try something. Just close your eyes and keep them closed.”
“Olivia—”
“Please. For me.”
He closed his eyes. Leaning in, I let my mouth almost touch the side of his ear, the way she used to whisper to him. “It’s not Olivia sitting here. It’s Ashton. I’ve come back to you. My hair is long and silken and black. My skin is pale, and my eyes are blue. I play chess with you after dinner, and I would do anything to make you happy. You are my protector.”
Though I’d not known what result this would bring, I couldn’t help being startled by his rapid intake of breath.
I kept on whispering, describing every detail of Ashton in her peach gown. “You are all that I love. You protect me, and you are my world.” I let my voice soften even more. “I am Ashton, and you are my world.”
Suddenly Rowan’s hand was around the back of my head, and his mouth was pressing hard against mine. He pushed his tongue between my teeth and pulled me off the couch onto the rug below.
He was on top of me, using his weight to pin me down.
His hand was on my leg, pulling up my nightgown.
The strength in his body was unsettling. Besides a friendly kiss on the cheek from Baron Augustine, the only other man who’d ever touched me was Henri—for an occasional hug. I knew men were stronger than women, but I hadn’t known how much. Although I had no intention of stopping Rowan, I was alarmed to realize I could not have stopped him had I wanted to.
He pushed my nightgown up around my waist, and then he was thrusting inside me.
It hurt, but I bit the inside of my mouth.
“Ashton,” he breathed, thrusting again.
Thankfully, this didn’t last long, and he let out a gasping breath as his body convulsed. His weight came down on top of me, and we lay like that for a long moment. Then he rolled off. I sat up and began arranging my clothing for modesty. We did not look at each other.
I couldn’t help remembering Genève’s words that first day we spoke alone in her chambers.
He’s never cared for any woman except Ashton. I don’t believe he will ever love anyone else. Can you stomach that for the rest of your life?
How easily I’d promised her.
Neither Rowan or I spoke as I slipped from his room. There was nothing to say. I felt soiled and ashamed at what I’d just done. My body was sore, and I was bleeding.
But I had the king’s seed inside me.
Chapter Eight
I didn’t know a great deal about the science of procreation, but I did know that a single such act with Rowan might not be enough. Four more times, I made the trip to his rooms in the night. He always let me in. He’d close his eyes, and I’d whisper a spell in his ear to conjure the image of Ashton, and only then would his body respond. During the act of our encounters, he never once opened his eyes until it was over.
After the fifth time, I couldn’t bring myself to go through it again and stopped the visits, hoping fervently that my efforts had been fruitful. The dowager queen said nothing, but I suspected she knew I’d been visiting his room. She seemed to know everything that went on.
Several weeks later, when my courses were due, they did not arrive. As I had always been regular, I dared to hope…but not too much.
The following month, they did not come again.
One night at dinner, as a slice of ham was set before me, I turned away, fearing I was about to be sick at the table. Genève was on her feet and at my side.
Her face filled with hope. “My dear. Are you…do you think you are…?”
“I think so.”
By then, I was certain I was pregnant. Rowan turned in his chair. “You think what?”
Genève leaned close. “Your queen is with child.”
“With child?”
Had that possibility not occurred to him? What did he think that sordid business between us was all about?
But in the days that followed, I pushed the memory of those nights to the back of my mind as the council, and indeed the entire city, celebrated our news. A young, pregnant queen was the cause of much joy and much fuss, and I allowed myself to enjoy it all.
Pregnancy agreed with me, and once I’d gotten past the feeling of being ill when I looked at food, I began to blossom. I loved the swelling in my stomach and the proof of my child growing. Autumn passed into winter. I turned nineteen over the solstice holidays. Winter passed into spring.
Then one night at dinner, Rowan turned to me. “Did you know I’ve been in contact with your brother?”
“With George?”
“No, Henri. There’ve been some troubling events taking place along the border up north. Lord Sauvage has tried to bring this to my attention before, but I didn’t realize the extent of the issue until now. Raiding parties from Samourè have crossed over to steal crops and livestock. Several homes have been burned.”
“Burned?” This surprised me. Normally, a careful peace was maintained between our kingdoms.
“I need to ride up and look into this myself,” he said.
“How long will you be gone?”
“About a month.”
“A month?” My voice sounded strained. I might not love Rowan, but I was heavy with his child and didn’t like the idea of him leaving me at this time.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The captain will be here, and he’ll look after the castle’s protection. I’ve counted the months in my head, and I’ll be back in time for the birth.”
At least now he sounded like a husband, and his words calmed me. Of course Captain Caron could protect the castle, and Rowan had promised he’d be back for the birth.
“Can you manage the common courts by yourself?” Rowan asked.
“Yes.”
And I could. Following through on my instincts, I’d cultivated relationships with wives of the city leaders, wives of merchants, and female members of the artisan’s guild. I knew little of the daily lives of our people, but I knew a good deal about local trade and commerce, and to my mind, this mattered more.
No, I didn’t fear attempting to rule without Rowan. My thoughts in regards to his journey turned to worry that he was looking for a reason to invade Samourè. I knew Lord Sauvage often counseled for the invasion of neighboring kingdoms. He saw threats everywhere, and his idea of diplomacy was always at the point of a sword. Rowan tended to politely listen, but he’d never acted before. Now…he was looking for a reason to find fault with Samourè. I knew he still blamed their council for Ashton’s death, and though he may not speak of this, he’d never let it go.
Rowan left two days later.
I was interim ruler of the kingdom and handled many of Rowan’s duties, conferring with Captain Caron, Jarvis, and Lord Cloutier in his role as minister of finance. I was surprised to learn that Rowan intended to raise taxes.
“Why?” I asked.
“To increase our stock of weapons, my queen.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
Rowan was gone nearly two months, and the day following his return, my pains began. This was a first child, and first children often take longer. I was in labor nea
rly fifteen hours. But in the end, my beautiful son came into the world, and I nearly wept at the sight of him.
He had a head full of burnished red hair.
Genève rocked him with adoration in her eyes. “He is perfect. I think he looks like your brother, Henri. Perhaps he will be tall.”
She had what she wanted. Her son had established a line, cemented his throne, and she was now the mother and grandmother of powerful kings. But as much as I appreciated her grandmotherly sentiments, I didn’t like the sight of her holding my son, and I vowed never to leave her alone with the baby.
Over the next two days, some of the noblewomen staying at the castle came to visit and coo over the young prince. He was fine and strong, and my pride swelled every time I held him. Of all the tasks required of a queen, this one by far took precedence: the creation of an heir.
Only one aspect of his birth troubled me.
Rowan had not come to visit. For a royal couple, even with a marriage as strained and distant as ours, the one thing in which we might triumph and share intimate personal joy was the birth of a healthy child. I wanted to celebrate with my husband, the father of my son.
On the third day, I was still recovering and had not left my rooms. When Genève came to visit, I asked, “Where is Rowan?”
She glanced away. “He is busy, my dear.”
Busy? Too busy to see his wife and rejoice in the birth of his son?
That evening he arrived, and I sent the women away so that we might be alone with our baby. Rowan’s normally pale skin was tan, and I could see he’d been spending much of his time outdoors. He’d not cut his hair since winter, and it reached his shoulder blades. A hint of a dark beard covered his jawline, as if he’d forgotten to shave.
Our son was asleep in his cradle.
“Are you well?” Rowan asked me politely. “You are recovering?”
He sounded like a near stranger inquiring after my health.
“Yes,” I answered. “Thank you.”
