by Alexa Aston
Suddenly, Rosalyne knew she needed her skin against his. She began tossing her clothing aside. Edward joined in and quickly helped her shed the layers she wore. Once gone, she snuggled against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest as they nestled together. His hand cupped her buttocks as he lowered his mouth and took her breast into it.
Instant heat filled her. Her hands grasped his shoulders, the nails digging in, as he feasted on her with tongue and teeth. Need undulated inside her. She pushed against him and threw one leg over him, using it to pull him even closer.
His fingers parted her as before. Already, her body knew them and hungered for his intimate touch. As he kissed her mouth, his fingers kissed her insides, the strokes building something deeply within her. Then an explosion occurred and Rosalyne rode against his hand as wild currents zipped through her, the frenzy reeling out of control as she almost shouted into his mouth. It finally began to subside.
Edward withdrew his fingers and whispered, “You are ready for me.”
Before she could reply, he nudged her onto her back and hovered over her as he slipped his manhood against her. With one thrust, he plunged inside.
His mouth covered hers, muffling the shriek that erupted from the sudden pain. Rosalyne lay there confused, wondering why he had hurt her.
But he did not move. She now felt him filling her, stretching her, yet the pain had passed. He kissed her softly a few times and then said, “It will never hurt again, my love. I had to breach your maidenhead. Only pleasure will happen between us from now on. Trust me.”
She did—and what happened next was nothing she could have imagined. Rosalyne swore she was flying, Edward by her side, as they came together in a dizzying array of physical pleasure. Both reached a peak of pleasure at the same moment, shuddering in unison, their mouths and bodies melded together as one.
Edward collapsed atop her, driving her into the mattress. Rosalyne welcomed his weight, bringing her legs around him and keeping him tightly against her. Their sweat-slickened bodies now knew one another as intimately as a man and woman could.
Then he rolled, bringing her with him, until she was on top. She finally broke their kiss and smiled at him. This man was hers. Hers alone, for all time.
“You are a gift to me, Rosalyne. I promise to cherish you always.”
“Even when my hair turns to gray?” she teased, tracing his brows with her thumbs.
“Aye. For it will have done that from the many sons and daughters you give me. Mother says giving birth is the easy part. It is raising children that she claims puts the gray into a woman’s hair.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “Your mother sounds like a very wise woman.”
He smiled. “She has to be to manage my father, six children, and all of Kinwick. Most people give Father the credit for how well Kinwick is run but he says Mother is the power behind it all.”
Rosalyne kissed him. “Then your father sounds as wise as your mother. I look forward to the day I can meet them.”
Edward smoothed a stray curl from her face. “You will need to do so as my wedded wife,” he informed her. “I had thought we might wait and marry at Kinwick but now we will need to make our vows in London.”
“Why?” she asked. “Your parents will be disappointed if they cannot be with us to celebrate that day.”
“But you could be with child, my love. Because of that, I plan to wed you tomorrow.”
*
Edward knew that he had to arrange his marriage to Rosalyne immediately. He did not regret making her his last night. Nothing he had ever experienced could compare to making love to the woman who had become everything to him. To think she would soon spend every night in his bed thrilled him.
But that couldn’t occur in the barracks where the king’s guard slept.
Mayhap, the queen would be willing to help them. Already, she had been amenable to his suggestion of having Rosalyne paint her portrait. He had confided in her, a woman he’d never spoken with, not only about Rosalyne’s talents as a painter but how great his love was for her. Knowing the queen was a romantic at heart, Edward had risked all—and so far, it had paid off.
Rosalyne wanted to bring the two portraits to the palace today. If they pleased Queen Anne, then she might be more willing to help them find a way to wed quickly and allow him to return to Kinwick with his bride.
“Let me drape the cloth,” Rosalyne instructed.
She fussed with covering the first portrait and then did the same with the second one. Edward wanted to carry both at the same time but she insisted on him bringing them down to the cart separately. Temp guarded the first picture placed in the wagon’s bed and gave Edward a wink as Rosalyne ordered him back upstairs to claim the second one. He could tell how nervous she was and stopped her as she wrung her hands absently in front of her.
“The queen will be pleased with your work.” He kissed her, hoping it would bring her some reassurance.
“Do you really think so?”
“How could she not? You have done justice to her, Rosalyne.”
Edward foisted the second painting from where it stood and carried it down to the cart before helping Temp and Rosalyne up onto the bench. She took the reins in hand and they set off for the palace.
Since he had sent word ahead, Hal awaited them and helped carry one of the pieces of wood while Edward brought the other. He warned his brother how nervous Rosalyne was and that she shouldn’t be teased. Besides, Edward did not want anyone in the palace overhearing that she was the true artist and not Temp.
For once, Hal behaved himself and they arrived at the queen’s rooms without incident. The soldiers on guard admitted the four of them and they brought the portraits to where the queen sat embroidering a handkerchief. She smiled as they entered and put her sewing aside. Her ladies-in-waiting tittered behind hands drawn to their faces, whispering about what they would soon see.
The queen addressed her uncle. “I was surprised when Sir Hal told me that he received word that you would come today, Master Parry. You seemed to have worked rather quickly on such an important project.”
“You were a delightful subject to paint, your majesty,” Temp said graciously. “My hand was inspired by your beauty. The piece almost painted itself.”
She frowned. “I see two objects draped. What is the second one?”
Rosalyne spoke up. “My uncle found that you were a true inspiration, your grace. He has chosen to paint not one but two portraits of you, in varying fashions.”
Her statement caused the gathered ladies to begin frantically whispering amongst themselves but with one look, the queen silenced them.
“Show me what you have,” Anne ordered.
Rosalyne nodded to Hal. He stepped forward with his wood. She stood on her tiptoes and removed the cloth before stepping aside. While all eyes flew to the painting, she watched the queen.
A pleased smile crossed the royal’s face as her eyes moved up and down and from side to side as she examined it. Rosalyne made sure the more traditional portrait had been revealed first and it made her happy that the queen seemed to like it.
For a moment, Anne’s eyes flicked to hers in recognition before she turned toward Temp.
“Master Parry, you are quite the talented artist. ’Tis hard for me to imagine how you worked such wonders, for I am not nearly as attractive and regal as you have made me seem.”
“But this is how I do see you, your majesty,” Temp replied. “And others, as well.”
“Come, ladies. See what you think.”
Since the queen now gave them permission, the women who served her came forward, walking around so they could view the exposed portrait. Rosalyne saw their nods and smiles and, for a moment, she relaxed.
But the queen still had one more painting to view.
“The other now, Sir Edward,” Anne commanded.
Once again, Rosalyne removed the draped cloth that protected the portrait. This time, she forced herself to view the queen’s r
eaction instead of cowardly looking away.
“Oh!” the queen exclaimed, her eyes widening. Then a brilliant smile touched her face, lighting it up. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Rosalyne had decided to paint Anne in an unconventional setting. Instead of standing or being seated in a chair, she placed the queen outdoors under a summer sky, as if she’d been touring her gardens and taken a moment to rest. Instead of sitting straight and tall, she leaned to one side, a hand flat on the bench supporting her. A large tree trunk stood behind her, with green grass and a sea of flowers scattered at her feet. Where the formal portrait had Anne in royal purple, this one showed her in a cotehardie of softest pink, a flattering hue next to her milky white skin and the roses that bloomed in her cheeks.
The ladies-in-waiting exclaimed over it, finally applauding as everyone turned to her uncle. Hal caught Rosalyne’s eye and inclined his head to her in a show of respect.
“I think the king will want to see these right away,” Anne exclaimed. “And I would like privacy in which to share them with him.”
Her chief lady-in-waiting herded the women into the next room. Hal volunteered to summon the king to the queen’s rooms.
That left Rosalyne, Edward, and Temp alone with the queen.
Once the door firmly closed, the queen said, “Lady Rosalyne, this is remarkable work.”
“Thank you for the compliment, your highness. I thoroughly enjoyed painting you.”
“I will be certain you and your uncle are richly compensated. I am curious, though. Why did you decide to depict two versions?”
“I knew the usual type of portrait would be expected, your majesty, but I saw something wonderful in you. Something that could not be captured without breaking the bonds of convention.”
“Your talent is astounding. Sir Edward had wanted me to encourage the king to have his own portrait done by you. I feel he will come up with the idea on his own without my having to suggest it. I wish I could do more.”
“You can, your highness,” Edward proclaimed. “First, when you reveal to him at the appropriate time that Rosalyne is the true artist.”
Anne smiled cordially. “That I can do. What else?”
He swallowed and Rosalyne saw that Edward was nervous. She wondered why.
“I told you that I am in love with Lady Rosalyne,” he began. He glanced in her direction for support before turning back to the queen. “I already have her uncle’s permission to wed her. I wanted to bring her to my parents’ home and marry at our chapel at Kinwick.”
“Something tells me that you are too much in love to wait,” Anne suggested.
A blush stained Edward’s cheeks. “I am. I would wed Lady Rosalyne today if it could be arranged.”
“Then let that be my gift to you both,” the queen said generously. “Once the king has seen Lady Rosalyne’s work, I will see that it is done.”
Edward dropped to one knee before her and boldly took her hand. He pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. “Thank you, your grace. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Sir Edward.”
He rose and returned to Rosalyne’s side. His hand sought hers and clasped it for a moment before releasing it.
“I know when you left Canterbury you probably did not expect to marry in London, Lady Rosalyne,” the queen said.
“Nay, your majesty.”
“I thought so. We are of a similar size, are we not? I think I have something that you might like to wear to your wedding this afternoon. Would that be agreeable to you?”
Rosalyne swayed. Edward caught her about the waist.
“That would be most agreeable, your majesty,” she managed to get out before she heard footsteps approaching.
A moment later, the king entered, followed by several courtiers and Hal. He glanced around the room, taking in who was present before he went to his wife and pressed a kiss against her brow.
“I hear you are eager for me to see what Master Parry has accomplished.”
Anne waved a hand to where the portraits rested now, propped against the wall.
Richard walked to them and stood silently, his head moving from one and back to the other as he mulled over them. Rosalyne tensed, afraid of his reaction. He turned and went straight to her uncle.
Placing both hands on Temp’s shoulders, the king said, “You are a master at what you do. A genius to think to paint my beloved queen in two very different lights. I insist that you paint my portrait, as well, Master Parry. And all of my close friends at court.”
Rosalyne let out the breath of air she held, basking in the king’s words, though they weren’t directed to her.
Much to her surprise, the queen said, “Your friends need to give us some privacy, your majesty. I wish to speak about your portrait with you—and the artist.”
Richard gave her a fond smile and turned to the group of men who had accompanied him. “Go find something to do. I need to devote time to my queen.”
The courtiers shuffled from the room. Hal closed the door behind them. Rosalyne wondered what Anne wanted to discuss as she rose and went to stand next to her husband.
“You truly like my portraits?” she asked, placing a hand on his forearm.
“They are almost as wonderful as you, dearest,” he replied. “Master Parry has captured the essence of your beauty and goodness in a way like none other.”
“Then I wish for you to meet the true artist, your majesty.” The queen held out her hand. “Lady Rosalyne Parry created both paintings for you.”
Rosalyne head grew light as the king’s eyes bore into hers, then darkness swallowed her up.
Chapter 21
Edward scooped Rosalyne into his arms before she crumpled to the ground.
“Follow me,” the queen commanded.
He did as she asked without question. They passed through two more rooms before arriving at the royal bedchamber.
“Place her on my bed, Sir Edward.”
He hesitated.
“Now,” Anne said firmly.
Edward lay Rosalyne on the bed and sat beside her, gathering her cold hands in his. He heard feet shuffling behind him and assumed the others present had followed.
“You frightened poor Lady Rosalyne,” the queen chided her husband.
“I did not,” the king said, sounding put out.
“I have seen that cold stare when you have turned it upon others,” the queen said. “’Tis most effective when dealing with your troublesome advisers or asserting yourself with a foreign ambassador.” She paused. “But I take offense to it when used upon someone who has done me a great service. I am quite fond of Lady Rosalyne and captivated with the portraits she did of me.”
Edward bit back a smile as the queen continued to scold her husband. No one in England would dare speak to Richard as his wife did.
“My love, I was merely startled that a woman claimed to paint these works.”
“She did not claim to do so. She did paint them. She also hoped to paint you but I can see you are too stubborn to allow her to do so.”
“I cannot believe—”
“That a woman could possess such talent? Or could produce such art?” the queen asked. She sighed. “Master Parry, you tell him.”
“It is as the queen says, your highness,” Temp admitted. “I raised Rosalyne from the time she was a babe and I taught her all that I learned in Italy. She has surpassed me in what she creates. Recently, she completed a triptych for Canterbury Cathedral but could not claim it as her own work, for no one—least of all Archbishop Courtenay—would have believed her.”
Edward glanced sideways at the royal couple and saw the king listened thoughtfully.
Temp lifted his hands from the folds of his cloak and extended them. “Look, sire. See how they tremble.” Silence hung in the air. “Once, I thought myself the best painter in all of England but now some malady has struck and causes my hands to shake. For years, Rosalyne prepared my woods and mixed my tempera paints to allow me to concen
trate on my subject and how I would capture him or her. Now? She has assumed my place with her brush in hand and exceeds anything I could dream of creating. Do not punish her, your majesty. If anyone is guilty of lies, ’tis I.”
“No one will be punished,” the queen assured Temp. “Will they?” She looked pointedly at her husband.
“Nay,” he agreed. “I was merely surprised when the queen revealed the true painter’s identity to me.”
“Rosalyne has only wanted to support us financially,” Temp continued. “We both thought it best for others to believe I was still the artist.” He looked to Edward. “But now that my niece and Sir Edward plan to wed, this gallant knight has offered to take me in. He wants to return to Kinwick, his family’s home, where he believes his mother might be able to ease my suffering.”
Edward looked the king squarely in the eye. “I would ask to be relieved of my duties in the king’s guard, your highness, in order to bring my wife and her uncle to the country. You know Mother’s reputation as a great healer. I hope she will be able to help Temp with his pain and prolong his life.”
Richard crossed his arms over his chest. “I would hate to lose such a fine knight from my service but I can understand your request and will grant it.” He sighed. “But before you go, I wish for Lady Rosalyne to paint my portrait.”
Rosalyne stirred on the bed. Edward watched her eyelids flutter a few times before they opened and she took in her surroundings.
“Oh, my!” She tried to sit up.
“Stay where you are, Lady Rosalyne,” the queen urged. “You don’t want to faint again.”
“I . . . fainted?” Her cheeks flushed with color.
The king stepped closer to the bed. “You did, my lady. In fear of me, I believe.”
Her eyes widened. “Your majesty, I—”
He waved a hand. “Nay. I did frighten you and apologize for doing so. The queen’s news that you had painted both of her portraits stunned me.” Richard smiled broadly. “But I like them very much, all the same.”
“You do?” Rosalyne asked.
“Of course. What loving husband wouldn’t want to see his wife portrayed that way? But I must caution you that I only want one portrait from you and I need to look regal and commanding in it. As a king must.”
