Mary Gillgannon

by The Leopard

  “The lady—what does the lady of the manor wish to buy?”

  Astra straightened. The servants and villeins of Riversmere stepped away from the table and watched her expectantly.

  The peddler spoke again. His voice was clear and even this time. “Alas, I have nothing fine enough for the Lady Astra. I have no jewels to rival the blue of her eyes. No ribbons as bright and fair as her hair. No cloth excellent enough to array such a beauteous form.”

  Astra blinked. The peddler’s twisted shoulder seemed to have straightened. He was even taller than she had imagined. His voice sounded odd to her, and even more so his words. She wondered if he were mocking her.

  His hands sifted casually through the pile of goods lying on the table, spilling them to the floor. “Alas; I can see I have nothing here for her. Nothing at all.”

  He stepped around the table and walked towards her. Astra did not breathe. She could not think, and her vision seemed to waver and fade.

  “What could tempt the Lady Astra, I wonder. She cares not for fancy gowns and jewels. What think you that she wishes for?”

  The people in the hall watched, transfixed. Before their eyes the hunch-backed peddler changed. Now he stood straight and tall, a powerful man, a warrior. They watched as the hood of his cloak fell away, revealing long dark hair and a face both elegant and dangerous.

  They gasped as the man’s arms encircled their lady’s waist, and he pulled her tightly against the dark bulk of his body.

  * * *

  “You might have warned me,” Astra murmured. “You did not have to appear out of nowhere and nearly give me the vapors.” She was lying naked on Richard’s chest, nestling against the smooth silky heat of him. It was the only way the narrow bed could accommodate both of them, not that either of them minded.

  “I wanted to see for myself how you had fared. I was not sure you would still want me. I was afraid you might have changed.”

  “It has only been a few months, Richard,” she teased. “Surely you did not think I would forget you quite so soon.”

  His eyes met hers. “You have changed, Astra. You are no longer the sweet little convent girl I fell in love with.” His hand moved to cup her chin, his thumb softly caressing her cheek. “You are a woman now. I look around Riversmere, and everywhere I see the comforts and small pleasures only a woman knows how to provide. You have made Riversmere into something more than a clean, prosperous manor. You have made it into a home.”

  ”Oh, Richard,” she whispered. “That is all I ever wanted. A home, a peaceful haven for the man I love.”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid it is not what I have always wanted. It took me so long, so very long to discover how much it means to me.”

  “I only wish you did not nearly have to die to learn what you need.”

  Richard stiffened. “You know?”

  “Sweet Mary! Surely you do not think I would welcome my husband back without inspecting every inch of him. It is appallingly hard to miss the freshly-healed wound on your back, and from the size and position of it, I can easily guess that it near killed you.”

  Richard nodded. “I believe I was as close to death as a man can be and still return to walk among the living.” He shook off the morbid mood and grinned. “When I awoke and knew my surroundings, my first thought was for you. That was when I knew I would live—when all I could think about was bedding you.”

  “For shame,” Astra scolded, feeling anything but displeased. “You spare no thought for the future of your immortal soul, and instead dwell upon the beastly urges of your wicked flesh.”

  Richard regarded her for a moment with eyes as mesmerizing as a cat’s, then adjusted her body over his, sinking his shaft within her until she gasped at the size and heat of it. “Tell me now, Astra, tell me what you think of my beastly urges.”

  “Oh, Richard,” she groaned, nearly insensible with pleasure. “How I have missed you!”

  Forty-one

  “Isn’t it marvelous?” Marguerite murmured as she held her squirming, red-faced son, Fulke, against her chest and patted his back. “Even Will was astounded when he heard the King had given Richard the Castle Falaise along the Marches. It’s a very wealthy demesne. You need never again worry about affording comforts or servants.”

  Astra smiled tranquilly. “Living on a large estate means little to me. In fact, Richard and I have decided to spend summers at Riversmere. It’s more of a home than any dark, drafty castle could ever be. I wish the babe could be born there, but the midwife says it won’t come until well after the Yule season, and we are to keep Christmas with the King and Queen at Canterbury.”

  Marguerite handed Fulke to a nurse and smoothed her gown. “Speaking of the King, you’ll never guess the delicious gossip I heard not a fortnight ago.”

  “What?”

  Marguerite leaned forward, her eyes bright with conspiratorial glee. “Guy Faucomberg has fallen out of favor with Henry. Apparently they had an awful row, and Rathstowe accused the King of being henpecked.”

  “He didn’t!”

  Marguerite grinned. “Aye, apparently he did, or at least that’s the explanation given for the King banishing Faucomberg from court. Witnesses said that it was one of the worst rages Henry’s ever had. His face turned bright red and his eyes practically bulged out of his head. There were those who feared for his health.”

  “And Faucomberg?”

  “Apparently he left London calmly enough, but you know the man, he won’t forgive Henry. He’ll be plotting every minute to avenge the insult.”

  “At least things didn’t come to such a pass between Richard and the King.” Astra gave a little shiver. “I would hate to have Henry bear a lasting grudge against my husband. As my father found, crossing kings can be dangerous.”

  Marguerite shrugged. “Henry isn’t made of the same stuff John was. There are those who say that if all the barons with grievances joined forces against him, Henry would be compelled to meet their demands.”

  Astra’s eyes widened in alarm. “You speak as if the barons mean to go to war against the King!”

  Marguerite nodded. “Will says armed confrontation is very possible if Henry does not curb his greedy relatives and his own bad temper and extravagance.”

  “War! How awful. If it comes to that, it won’t be only men like Rathstowe who suffer, but the common people as well.”

  “Don’t fret, Astra. Will says that the reckoning between Henry and his barons may be a long time coming. The barons lack a leader, and they would never unite behind a man like Rathstowe.” She paused and flipped her dark curls carelessly. “God’s blood, why are we conversing on such a dreary topic? I haven’t seen you in months. You must tell me everything that’s happened since Richard returned to England.”

  “There’s little to tell, Marguerite. Richard and I live very quietly. We haven’t even been to court. Richard meant to return to London a few weeks ago, but I was so sick with the babe, he wouldn’t leave me.”

  “You were sick?” Marguerite grasped her arm in alarm.

  “’Twas nothing,” Astra protested. “Merely the normal queasiness of the early weeks. The midwife even said it was a good sign. She believes it means the babe is taking well.”

  “Dear Astra, how awful. Myself, I felt wonderful up until the last few months. Then I swelled up like a bloated pig’s bladder.” She made a face. “I was grateful Will has no interest in me that way, or I would have been too embarrassed to share a bedchamber with him. I have never felt so repulsive.”

  “I don’t feel repulsive at all. Richard says I have never looked more alluring, and I believe that, in his eyes at least, it’s true.”

  “Richard would say that. He fair dotes on you. I can’t believe the change in him. The arrogant, ferocious knight is no more. These days the Leopard is as mellow and sweet-tempered as a pet kitten.”

  “Except in bed,” Astra said shyly. “There he is the same as ever.”

  “Really, Astra, you needn’t brag. Wil
l is a very indulgent husband, but I’ve yet to find the lover that satisfies me.”

  “How are things with you and Will?” Astra asked cautiously.

  Marguerite smiled. “I said he was indulgent. Truly he outdoes my father the way he cares for my happiness. You were right, sweeting. I can have no regrets about marrying Will. He likely suits me as well as any man.”

  “You are satisfied then, Marguerite?” Astra asked. “It has been over a year since we left Stafford. Are you happy with the way things have turned out?”

  “Well, I have not found a great love as you have, but then perhaps I am not destined for it. I’m too selfish, I suppose. But otherwise, it has been an adventure, Astra. What else can one hope for?”

  What else indeed?—Astra wondered, splaying her fingers across her slightly swollen belly. She had a handsome, loving husband and a babe on the way. What more could one wish for?

  She looked up as Richard entered Thornbury Hall. He had been out hunting with Will, and his face was flushed with ruddy color, his hair charmingly wind-blown. He leaned over her, his dark eyes making a lazy perusal of her blossoming form. Then his gaze met hers invitingly,

  “You ladies are missing a fine, fair day. Come outside with me, Astra. Enjoy the sunshine and sweet breezes.”

  She basked in the warmth of his eyes for a moment and then looked at Marguerite. Her friend gave a delighted laugh. “Go then, Astra. I’d not keep two such shameless lovebirds apart.”

  Astra stood to put her work away. Richard took her arm and led her toward the door.

  “Do you wish to go riding, madame?” he asked as they went out into the castle courtyard.

  “I think not,” she answered with a regretful smile. “For all the practice I’ve had in the last year, I fear I am not much of a horsewoman. I can’t quite get over the fear I will fall off.”

  “We could ride pillion. Kismet would not mind.”

  Astra turned to look at her husband. “What are you planning, Richard? Are you trying to get me off alone?”

  “Alone?” he asked innocently. “Why would I do that?”

  “You know very well why. You are forever enticing me to hidden corners to have your way with me.”

  Richard grinned. “What will it be then? It seems a shame to spend such a beautiful day inside.”

  “Very well, you lecherous wretch. We’ll go to the garden.”

  Thornbury was a very old estate, and its garden seemed as ancient as the one at Riversmere, and almost as neglected. Astra followed Richard through tangled rose bushes and overhanging oak branches until they reached the orchard. The apple trees were in bloom, and the fragrant white blossoms drifted down on them with dreamlike slowness. Richard led her beneath the resplendent canopy of a large, gnarled tree and drew her to him. He pressed his face against her neck.

  “I have found heaven with you, Astra,” he said softly.

  “You scarce deserve heaven,” she teased as she stroked his thick, silky hair. “A miscreant like you ought to burn in hell for certes.”

  “Ah, but I have been redeemed. Some fair angel took my soul away many months ago, and she still holds it in safekeeping.”

  “An angel was it? Are you certain?”

  He leaned back to look at her face, smiling. “Well, it could have been a wood sprite. They look much the same, don’t they?”

  Astra glanced down at her midsection. “I fear I shall not resemble a sprite much longer. In a few months, I shall be quite plump and ungainly.” She looked up and met his eyes intently. “Are you pleased we shall have a babe, Richard?”

  “Of course, I am pleased. Why would I not be?”

  “I thought perhaps that it might distress you, that it might somehow remind you of your own unhappy childhood.”

  “That was different. This babe shall have a father who acknowledges him and protects him and a mother who loves him. He shall never have to endure what I did.”

  “Your mother loved you,” Astra said softly. “If she had not, she would never have done what she did. She could have given you up and entered a nunnery. Instead, she sold herself so she could buy you a place in the world.”

  Richard nodded. “Perhaps I see that now. I have thought recently that my anger at her was nothing more than a child’s anguish that he could not save someone he loved from pain.”

  Astra leaned close to stroke his face. “You speak of our babe as if it is for certain a boy. What if it is a girl?”

  He smiled. “A girl would be delightful. I could pet her and spoil her and tease her.” His expression grew rueful. “Of course, when she grew into a woman, I would have to lock her away. It would be my duty as a father to protect her from all the hot-blooded, young knaves who would try to steal her heart.”

  “As you have stolen mine, Richard?”

  He smiled devilishly, and before Astra knew what was happening, he slid a long, lean leg between hers, disrupting her balance. He caught her in his arms, and they glided to the ground as gently as an apple blossom floating down from the tree. Richard eased himself beside her. Astra expected him to reach for the laces on her gown, but instead, he rested his face on her breast, nestling with a sigh against the place where her heart beat.

  She looked up at the dazzling white boughs above them and twined her fingers in his hair. The sense of peace that filled her was as sublime and timeless as the earth they rested upon. “I love you, Richard,” she murmured.

  “As I love you, sweet Astra,” he whispered back. “The Leopard has found his mate. He is content at last.”

  * The End *

  Dear Readers,

  The Leopard was originally called Leopard’s Lady. It was one of the first books I wrote and the second one published. Back then I liked my historical romances to be gritty and realistic. Re-reading them, I think I sometimes made them too realistic. Now that I’m older, I prefer to have the edges of life smoothed off a bit, and I have a more romantic viewpoint. I rewrote parts of this story with that sensibility.

  But it’s still a raw, passionate tale. The medieval age was a brutal one. With the specter of early death haunting them from cradle to adulthood, I believe the people of medieval times were both much more pious and much more reckless than we are. This gives a vibrancy to their time period that I find very compelling. In The Leopard I sought to capture that mood of immediacy and joie de vivre. And for all the seriousness of some of my themes, it’s meant to be a fun book, a playful one.

  In my fiction I contrive to portray the drama of life realistically and yet have a happy ending. I want to believe, like Astra, that good conquers evil, that generosity and kindness is stronger than greed and avarice. That sweetness and love can heal pain and anger and make us whole.

  A fantasy, you say? Perhaps. But I’m a writer, and we’re crazy enough to believe that fantasies truly can make a difference in people’s lives!

  Happy reading,

  Titles by Mary Gillgannon

  Dragon of the Island

  Dragon’s Dream

  The Dragon Prince

  The Dragon Bard

  Beyond the Sea Mist

  Storm Maiden

  Devil’s Own Bargain

  Earl of Scandal

  Saint Sin

  The Conqueror

  The Leopard

  Mary Gillgannon

  Mary Gillgannon writes romance novels set in the dark ages, medieval and English Regency time periods and fantasy and historical novels with Celtic influences. Her print books have been published in Russia, China, the Netherlands and Germany. Raised in the Midwest, she now lives in Cheyenne, Wyoming where she works full-time at the Laramie County Library.

  She is married and has two grown children. When not working or writing she enjoys gardening, traveling and reading, of course!

  She always enjoys hearing from readers. You may contact her through her website: http://marygillgannon.com. And please visit her blog at http://marygillgannon.blogspot.com.

  sp; The Leopard, Mary Gillgannon