by Diana Rubino
"Anyone in particular?"
"I am not worried about anyone right now, but it can happen. No one is completely trustworthy."
"Not even you?" He looked at her, those deep blue eyes penetrating deeply.
"You think I would turn against Richard and join Henry Tudor?" he asked, his voice rising in disbelief.
"Nay, it has naught to do with matters of state. I know you would never betray Richard; you've proven that time and again."
"So what is your problem then?"
"The problem is not mine. It is Bess' daughter Elizabeth's." His gaze left her and wandered, as if trying to place her.
"Well, what of her?"
"She is quite enamored of you, Valentine, have you not noticed?" A satisfied grin broke out over his face and he shrugged it off with a chuckle. "Oh, so what if she is? She knows I am married to you and am off limits." He moved to put his arm around her and she pulled back.
"Don't encourage her any more than you have, Valentine."
"Encourage her? How have I encouraged her? By letting her know she is worth something, by treating her to a dance or two occasionally? Come now, Dove, she is much too young, even for me." He laughed, tossing his head as if recalling a fond memory. "She sort of reminds me of you when we first met, when you were trying escape Bess' clutches. Now that Bess is sequestered, Elizabeth is out of her scrutiny and in Richard's lenient charge, she is sampling life for the first time."
"And it looks as if you are the first slice of life she fancies sampling. I have reason to believe she may have been behind the robbery of my genealogical tables, Valentine."
"Elizabeth? Why on earth would she do that?"
"For Bess, of course. But I would not be surprised if it also had something to do with her fancy of you, which would logically lead to her inevitable disdain for me."
"That is preposterous, Dove! I agree she is a troubled girl. She knows not where her loyalty should lie, with her uncle whom she feels usurped the throne from her brother, or with the detested Woodvilles, who have all but crawled back under their rocks, but they are her family. But a thief? Nay, not her. She is simply tormented. You at least were able to divorce yourself from the Woodvilles and ascertain that you were not one of them.
"What good does it do? I still have not found my family! I still do not know who I am!" As these disturbing thoughts returned, Denys' suspicion of Elizabeth faded. "What good is not being a Woodville if I do not know who I am?"
"We shall find them, Dove," he said, and this time she did not pull away when he held her. "If it is my last earthly act, I shall help you find them."
"Just do not provoke young Elizabeth. She is out of your element."
"I thought you would be pleased, Dove. ‘Twould serve to alleviate your jealousy."
"Jealousy! I am not jealous, you pompous ass! Do you enjoy breaking young girls' hearts? Does it provide you with a fond flashback to your randy youth?"
"The only reason I happened to break hearts was because they were allowed to be broken. It was never any of my doing."
"Oh, pish posh! You loved being surrounded by all those fawning court ladies, and you still do. The reason I look the other way is because I am secure enough in knowing that they mean nothing to you. I would never put you through the torment you caused me." He rose and walked towards her, his pen rolling off the table and splattering ink on his valuable tapestry rug. She was already trying to think of ways to get the ink stains out. He hadn't even noticed.
"Torment I caused you?" They were at arm's length and he moved even closer. "You loathed me, you despised me, you branded me guilty for conspiring with Bess Woodville to have you perish in a fire, even after we were married, you didn't looove me, not until much later could you give me your looove..." He dragged out the word in an attempt to mimic her.
"Put yourself in my place, dear wife, try to imagine what it was like being married to someone whose heart was locked tight. It hurt, Dove, it hurt like a pike through my heart because I could not have you. And now your lips have formed the word ‘love' but I do not feel it is total, complete love."
"Oh, that is ridiculous, I have told you I love you!"
"Ah, yes, you have told me you love me, when in the throes of passion, when I seduced it out of you with my hands and with my lips. You haven't truly given me your heart, Dove, you cannot love anyone in the true sense until you love yourself, and you cannot love yourself until you find your true name, the parents God gave you, and who you really are. That is why I am so adamant about helping you find your true family, Dove, because until you find out who you are, I shall never truly have you. No one will.
"Until you regard yourself as a complete person, you will never be able to love me. I love you no matter where you came from, whether you are a Woodville or not."
Aye, she did have someone who loved her unconditionally, no matter what her name was—and he was right, so very right! "Valentine, I can love, just do not leave me, please! Do not leave me now while I am not a complete person. Please, just let me find my true beginnings and I shall be the wife you have always wanted me to be!"
"Dove, I am not going anywhere. I would never turn my back on you. Even through all my apprehension at the time, I now realize the happiest day of my life was the day I married you." He gathered her in his arms.
"Well, if you truly mean that, you will be here by my side when I am reunited with my family."
"And I shall be. I shall. "Ti amo, mio tesoro, sei nel mio cuore per sempre." She looked at him in surprise. "Where did you learn that?"
"The intrepid explorer's only passion wasn't the lay of faraway lands," he replied softly.
"I would feel much better if Richard would marry Elizabeth off."
"Mayhap her problem is similar to the one you had. She is burdened with her name. Only her problem is much more serious; she is not merely a niece; she is a Woodville daughter. But I am sure some kind soul will take her hand someday soon."
"Well, God help the poor sod who winds up with Bess Woodville as a mother-in-law," Denys said as Valentine wiped away her tears and cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her head to meet her gaze.
Their matching grins turned into a burst of laughter as he began chasing her across the garden. She shrieked with delight and lifted her skirts as she ran from him, enjoying the chase even as much as the eventual capture. Round the maze they went, careening around corners, brushing against vines, until she finally came to a dead end and he enveloped her in his arms, breathing heavily. "Gotcha!" he whispered, planting kisses all over her face and neck.
Playfully trying to fight him off, prolonging the agonizing tension, she could feel the hardness of his muscles through the layers of his clothing.
He placed his arms around her waist and she buried her face in his hair, taking in its scent, the faint woodsy pine that was as much as part of him as his soul.
Their lips met, and his mouth devoured hers. She felt a rush of desire course through her body as his hands touched the curves of her shoulders. Her hand landed lightly on his thigh and she stroked the smooth satin of his hose. Then their arms wound round each other in a tight, clinging embrace. She'd never wanted to hold anyone this close, to consume him with all her energy, passionately drinking him in, quenching her yearning thirst. She wanted him right there, in the middle of the garden maze, to let him mold her to the contours of his body and make her his own. She fought to regain her abandoned senses, which were letting her melt and yield to his caresses and hungry lips.
She pulled away gently at first, but as he tightened his embrace and kissed her harder, she forced her body to part from his warmth, his want for her. Perplexity shadowed his features as his eyes searched hers.
"Not here, Valentine! Richard comes walking through here all the time! Let us retire to the bedchamber!" She tried to sound stern, but her breathlessness still hadn't vanished; his nearness entranced her so. Her heart was still thumping, and she tingled from the hot trails his fingertips had left on her face a
nd neck.
"Richard would have the courtesy to make an abrupt about face burning with scarlet if he heard the sounds of lovemaking within a mile of his earshot. He is certainly not the voyeur type. I'm sure he doesn't even fancy listening to himself doing it."
Then his mouth closed on hers, his tongue hungrily seeking, drinking her in with mounting passion. She responded instantly as his hands glided over her dress front and his fingers fanned out around her breasts, causing her to shudder under his fiery touch. The ecstasy and fervor they'd shared came rushing back to her. They reclaimed the newly found magic they'd pulled down from the heavens and called their own. A glow of desire nestled deep within her and churned a flow of long-forgotten emotions.
She longed for the touch of his hands on her naked skin; she wanted to bestow every facet of her being upon this man. He lowered her to the ground, and a moan escaped her lips as he ran hot kisses over her neck and earlobes. His breath in her ear made her shiver as she pressed closer, feeling his growing desire against the garments separating their bodies.
"Oh, Dove, you're so soft, so warm. Let me show you how much I want you." She yearned for him to take her to the pinnacles of paradise.
"I can take you to heaven," he breathed, showering her with kisses, down her neck, between her breasts.
Her rational mind was away at sea. He'd been away so long, now he was all hers, all hers.
His lips sought hers again. His scent swirled around them in a racy vortex. She twined her arms about his neck and touched the golden hairs there. His searing kisses and fluttering caresses were driving her mad; he had to take her, and she was ready.
"You are beautiful in the moonlight," he whispered, his mouth buried in her hair. "You are sweeter than every flower in this entire garden." She opened her eyes slowly and looked at his face. A hint of stubble on his chin and upper lip had broken out into tiny beads of sweat.
Before she could respond, he rolled onto his back and lifted her onto him.
She was so physically agile, she was like a feather in his arms. "Make love to me tonight," he murmured.
His hands urgently tugged at the chemise until it glided over her head, and he removed his tunic and shirt, bunching it up to use as a pillow under his head.
Their lips met again, his tongue dancing a slow measure with hers. Still clinging to him, Denys parted her thighs and found him, desperately straining through the smooth satin hose. He pulled them off and she lifted her skirts as he removed her undergarments, his hands molding to her buttocks, pushing himself deeply into her. The earth beneath him was hard and unyielding, affording her every inch of his desperate desire for her. She moved slowly at first then he thrust his hips forward and she joined in his rhythm, his hands leaving her buttocks and caressing her breasts.
The mélange of sensations sent her mind soaring to the pinnacles of exquisite sensation. An explosion began erupting deep inside her, then released itself in wave after wave. Her body convulsed, his every thrust meeting hers, and she grabbed his head from the ground and pulled his lips to hers. Now they were one in every way; his breath was hers, his soul was hers, one with the hard earth below, one with the sky above.
Then his body went rigid and he cried out in exquisite passion as her hair brushed over his neck and chest, his hands clasping her tightly, bringing her to him as he poured his love into her. She held him close and could feel his warmth seeping into hers, and when he finally relaxed she smoothed the hair back from his face, kiss his forehead, nibbled his lips.
It felt good to be outdoors with the stars twinkling above her. The air was clear and softly scented with the primroses and blossoms.
He lifted his head off the ground and listened for a moment to the outside sounds; the faint whistle of the flutes coming from the castle, the gentle rustling of the wind through the vines that enclosed them.
"We're finished now, Dickon!" he sang playfully, and she gave him a light slap across the cheek.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Denys was reading a letter from Cristoforo Colombo, translated into English, when Valentine entered the solar.
"Look, Valentine, Cristoforo sent me a letter! He just returned from the Canaries, off the African coast. Oh, ‘tis so interesting about the people there! He says they are still living in the Stone Age. They paint their bodies, have no knowledge of shipbuilding, they are completely backward!"
"What else has he found there?" Valentine asked, and she detected an eager tone he'd never displayed before when she talked of the dauntless explorer. But she was familiar with his tone. He sounded like this when he talked about his official duties, upcoming battles, or politics. Eager.
Ambitious.
"Nothing you would be quite interested in," she replied evenly. "He's found plants never before seen in any other part of Europe, and warm westerly winds that bring the most delightful climate."
"Nay, I mean anything valuable, like gold, perhaps?" She placed the letter down and looked her husband squarely in the eye.
"Valentine, I am not interested in gold."
"But he is. He is not sojourning into the vast blackness and risking his life for warm winds and bushels of kumquats."
"His quest is not simply a means to an end, Valentine.
He talks of finding a new world, not just a way to get rich."
"Nay, but investments are made in order to reap dividends and returns. His quest would cost many thousands of pounds, Dove. No one wants to lose everything they own simply for a voyage into the unknown."
"He hasn't asked us to give him anything, Valentine. He appealed to the crown, and Richard gave his condolences."
"Nevertheless, I feel he will succeed somehow. Men...and women...cut of that mold simply do not give up. No one knows that better than I." He beamed at her.
She returned his smile. "Now then, if I can persuade you to see how valuable a voyage across the Ocean Sea would be to mankind, I can certainly persuade you to take the rest of the evening off."
"Oh, Dove, I would love to, truly I would, but the council is holding a special session."
"The council can wait, Valentine. Your wife can't. Now...can the council do this...or this..." she whispered as she fondled him, pressing her body to his, feeling his growing desire as she lowered him to the tapestry rug before the fire.
"Nay, this session looks like it could really hold my interest!" he gasped in ragged breaths as Denys removed his tunic and hose and made love to him before the crackling embers.
Cristoforo returned to England and, although fraught with impending invasions, Richard welcomed him once again into his preoccupied milieu. The Genoese brought a continental flair and spark of life that brightened the elegant but subdued court. He brought Richard, Valentine, and Denys gifts of spices from his travels to Guinea, wines from Portugal, exquisite Venetian glass and of course more of the mastic from Scio that Denys loved.
In return, Valentine took a gleaming gold collar from around his own neck and slipped it over Colombo's head. The explorer thanked him profusely and even Richard was beginning to look like mastic agreed with him.
In Colombo's eyes Denys could still see the need to push onward, to never give up even in the face of harsh adversity.
Valentine and Denys held a banquet at Burleigh House, inviting the Admiralty Officers and several English sailors.
They exchanged legends with Colombo about the Ocean Sea, the great Norse explorers, and what lay beyond.
Spreading his world map out on their table once again, he showed them his proposed voyage, which would commence in the Canaries.
As the guests gathered round three deep at the table, he pointed out the way whilst Silvio spoke. "At this line of latitude are trade winds that blow north-east to southwest, and because of the rotation of the earth, they blow opposite in the southern hemisphere." He spoke of the area around at the equator called the doldrums, fascinating everyone with his knowledge of the winds, currents, and the stars. He admitted he was after gold and spices, all the del
icacies of the east, but the prospect of finding land was what really drove him.
Early the following morning when Denys was going over the household accounts and Valentine was tending his duties at court, her usher announced a visitor.
He was dressed impeccably, a dark brown doublet and hose accentuating the fading auburn in his hair. Around his neck he wore the collar Valentine had given him.
"Cristoforo!" He bowed to her and kissed her hand. He was alone.
"Where is Silvio?" she asked, looking over his shoulder, seeing only his palfrey hitched outside.
"I come alone," he said in halting English. "Perhaps we speak a little French?"
"Oui, nous parlons le Francais!" she answered. "I thought you didn't know much French."
