‘Richard?’
‘One step more, sweet Cicely, and our sin is as good as committed,’ his voice said softly, and he emerged from the shadow beyond the fireplace.
There was not much light, but sufficient for her to see he was pale, marked by sleepless nights and the pressure of rumour, speculation, treachery and preparation for a foe who might not even come. He was not dressed as a king, but as a traveller, in leather doublet and hose beneath a simple sleeveless coat unadorned with fur or embroidery. He might have been any man, except that he had that touch of royalty, that demeanour and sophistication that marked him as highborn. His eyes were more tired, and his face drawn. That face, those lips, all so incredibly dear to her. ‘Oh, my love,’ she whispered, taking that one deliberate step again.
Then she ran to him and he held her tightly, his face buried in her hair as he breathed the scent of her. He could not have crushed her closer, drained her more of love than he did now. It was as if he could be renewed through her, could find again his strength and purpose, his will. He did not speak, did not caress or kiss her; he simply embraced her as life itself to him.
Her tears flowed as she moved her cheek against his hair. She wanted to sacrifice her own self if it would return him to his. He was so precious, so needed, so susceptible that her heart turned over with the incredible love she had for him. Now it was her fingers that sank into the warm hair at the nape of his neck, her fingers that coiled and stretched, twisted and twined, imparting the sweetness of her emotion, the completeness of her desire. His clothes, poor or not, still smelled of costmary, and it was a scent that pricked her nostrils, aroused sensations and worked its rich way through her body and limbs.
She kissed his hair. ‘I cannot believe you are here, that I can touch you again. I have missed you so much.’
At last he drew away. ‘I could not stay away. I need you, Cicely.’
‘You have my love, all of it, forever. No man can ever mean to me what you do.’ She took his face in her hands and moved her lips tenderly against his, savouring the caress as if it were the very first. Then she looked into his eyes. ‘You must be strong,’ she whispered. ‘Be strong for me, because I cannot live without you. Do not let your enemies win even before you face Tudor. He is a petty lordling, not worth the ground you tread upon.’
He smiled. ‘You are my courage, my sweet Cicely.’
‘No, you are your courage. Never think that if I am not at your side you will falter. I am with you, every moment of every day. Richard, you are my lover and my king. I could not hold you in more regard if you were also a god. Can you not see why I love you? Why I would give my life for you? You are the anointed King of England, you have God and right on your side, and the people support you, but I see so much more. I love you for the man you are. I will always love you for that.’
‘You lift me, Cicely. Always you lift me.’
She smiled. ‘And you excite me. Do you know how difficult it is to stand here and not make love to you? I have never loved before as I do now, and I never will again. There is nothing that could ever be finer, greater, more inspiring or rewarding than what is between you and me. Tell me you know it too.’
‘You know I do.’ He put his hand to her cheek. ‘It has been intolerable without you.’
‘When must you go?’
‘In the morning. Neither Robert nor I can contemplate riding back today, it is just too much. I certainly cannot. We will leave at dawn, and reach Nottingham at nightfall.’ He smiled. ‘I will return to my apartments by a certain secret doorway. And sleep.’
‘Then we must make the most of now.’ She covered his face with foolish, loving kisses. ‘Give yourself to me again, Richard, for I need your physical love as you need mine. Oh, I believe I could kiss you forever.’
‘And if I could let you, Cicely, believe me I would.’
She smiled. He had brought her to life, and she could not imagine that life without him. ‘There was never such a king as you, Richard Plantagenet.’
‘That may or may not be a compliment.’
‘It is when I say it.’
‘Ah, then I am comforted.’ It already seemed his face had lightened. The terrible heaviness that had weighed upon him in those first seconds had been banished, simply because he was with her.
He took her hand and conducted her up to the room above. It was very much the same as the one they had left, except that it boasted a large posted bed that had clearly at one time graced the lord’s quarters at the castle.
She wondered if he had ever been here like this before. Maybe she somehow imparted the silent query, for he knew. ‘No, my lady, I have not.’
She gazed at him. ‘I really cannot exist without you,’ she said again.
He came to unlace her gown, and she shivered in the cool air as the honeysuckle brocade slipped to the rush-matted floor. Then he turned her to face him. ‘You can exist without me, Cicely.’
She shook her head. ‘No, for I would not wish to draw breath if you were not here.’ She remembered the poem, and recited it. ‘Did you write it?’ she asked then.
‘Yes. It was when I realized that Anne loved her first husband more than she did me. I had forgotten it.’
‘It is very beautiful.’
He smiled. ‘Such agony did not last long. A year later I would not have written it at all.’
‘Will you mind if I remember it?’
‘No, sweetheart, for I would write those words for you. It is yours, sweetheart. As am I.’
‘You are beautiful to me, Richard. No man can come close to you.’ She began to undress him, slowly, tantalizingly, kissing every portion of him, worshipping and caressing him. She stroked him, ran her gentle fingertips over his back, his shoulders, his chest, his waist, his loins. She knelt before him, holding him close, hiding her face against him, kissing him more. All of him. There was no part of him that was not precious to her. Nor was there any thought now of their close blood, of rules or sin, only that they were together again.
He bent to her, taking her hand and raising her to her feet. ‘Sweet Jesu, Cicely, would you have me part with what is yours before we even get to the bed?’
‘I would have you now, then again, and then again.’
‘After riding as I have today, I do not know how capable I am,’ he said, smiling.
‘You do not have to do anything. You have taught me well what to do.’
His eyes were amused. ‘I am that good a teacher?’
‘Oh yes, I think we can safely say you are.’
He remembered using the same phrase that night at the abbey. ‘Is there anything I have ever said that you do not recall?’
‘Not a word.’ She took his hand and led him to the bed. ‘Come, for we waste time and that is something we do not have.’
She lay down, and drew him with her. The joy of pressing their bodies together was infinite. His arms were around her, his lips were upon hers. She would taste him, smell him, and see him so clearly. He was hers, all hers, and she was so happy that she wept as he made love to her. He was passionate, tender, vulnerable, and so in need of her that she could not have cared more for him than she did there in the hunting tower.
She stretched her body up to him with pleasure as he moved within her, and she gazed up at his face as the final moments exploded from him. His eyes were closed, his dark chestnut hair tangled, his lips parted. What it was to see such a man at such a moment! His beauty almost fractured her heart, and when he sank into her arms again, she gathered him close. Dear God, how she loved him. It was an ache that engulfed her, and wrenched her heart from her body. Could she let him go again? Could she let him ride away, back to whatever fate awaited him? ‘No,’ she whispered to herself. ‘No, I will not part with you again.’
He raised his head. ‘We have to part,’ he said gently.
‘Take me back with you.’
‘No.’
‘Please, I beg you. Take me with you.’
‘No, sweetheart.’ He l
eaned up to push her hair from her damp forehead. ‘You have to stay here, and never speak of our meeting today. We knew how it would have to be.’ He kissed her on the lips, a long, sweet, gentle kiss that seemed to spread into her veins.
‘That does not ease my heart now,’ she whispered.
‘Nor does it ease mine, but at least I have held you again. It was too much to be there without you. I have been longing for a sight of you, a word with you, a touch. Oh, I have so ached to touch you . . .’
‘And I you.’ She pulled him into her arms again, and they lay there, wrapped in an intimacy neither of them wished to bring to an end. Just for this while they could forget and simply be themselves, lovers, sharing only one soul.
‘Cicely, if we were back now in the abbey, could you ever have envisaged we would be like this now?’
She closed her eyes as she moved her cheek against his hair. ‘I knew I had left childhood far behind. I was so affected by you, so drawn and caressed by your smiles and kind attention, that I knew I would never be the same again. You meant nothing wrong in what you did, you were simply being your own self, but I had never known such feelings before. I know now what you had aroused in me, but I did not know it then.’ She leaned up on an elbow to look down at him. ‘I also know that I will not leave you until morning.’
‘Cicely—’
‘No. In this I will not obey you, Your Grace. You may be the King of England, Richard Plantagenet, but I rule here. Tonight we can go to sleep together and wake up together. Just this once.’
‘And how do you intend to explain your absence from Sheriff Hutton?’
‘Jack will know where I am and who I am with. He realized at Nottingham, and he is nothing if not accustomed to the intricacies of clandestine trysts.’ She put her hand to his cheek. ‘I must sleep at your side tonight, do you not understand that? I want to wrap my arms around you, rest my head against you, hear your gentle breathing. There must be one occasion when we see the morning light together, warm and close. When might there be another opportunity like this? Please, Richard, do not deny me.’
He smiled a little. ‘Staying here overnight is intended to recoup my strength, not vanquish it completely.’
‘It need only be sleep. It’s the being with you that matters. I need to be close to you like that. And you need to be with me. You cannot come here like this and not spend every moment with me.’
He drew her closer. ‘Once again I should send you away.’
‘But you will not.’
‘No, I will not.’
‘Let me love you. I vow you will not need to move a muscle.’
He laughed, a real laugh that transformed him. ‘Not even one? Then it may be a pointless exercise, my love!’
She laughed too. ‘Well, maybe just one. The most important one. This one . . .’ She slipped her hand down over his lean abdomen and into the dark hairs around his loins. Then she began to stroke him. ‘There, you see? It works very well.’
‘That is because it knows what I am thinking.’
They fell asleep in an embrace, but not before they had made love several times more. She did not want to sleep, just to hold him while he did. But his warmth lulled her, as did the mere fact that he was with her like this. The morning would come all too soon, but she would be here when it did, with him in her arms.
Sleep still enveloped them, and dawn had yet to come when Robert came to the tower. He carried a lighted lantern and stood at the bottom of the steps to call up. ‘It is time, Your Grace.’ He left the lantern on the steps, so that its light shone up to where they lay.
Richard stirred, and then remembered. His arms went around her and he kissed her again. Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled at him, but then the smile faded. ‘You have to go?’
‘No, sweetheart, you do. Robert will take you safely back to the castle.’
‘No.’
‘You must go this time, Cicely. I have already risked too much to be here. I need to be at Nottingham when word arrives that Henry Tudor has set foot in my realm, not lying in paradise with you.’
‘This is paradise?’
‘Yes, because you are here.’ He kissed her again, adoring her with his lips in such a way that she knew it signified parting. She wanted to hold him back as he slipped from the bed, but he moved beyond her outstretched fingers.
She got up and stood behind him, her arms around his chest, her body pressed to his damaged spine. ‘You will not be able to come here again, will you?’
His hands enclosed hers. ‘Not until it is over.’
Please God, keep him safe for me. ‘Has anyone ever loved as we do?’ she whispered.
‘I would wish everyone to be able to love like this,’ he answered, leaning his head back so that his hair mixed with hers. Then he drew away and bent to hold her gown for her step into it. He paused after he had drawn it up around her. ‘We will be together again, I vow, but I do not know when.’
She had to close her eyes because the tears were near again and she did not want to make it even harder for him.
He laced the gown. ‘See how adept I am?’ He smiled.
‘I envy all the women who had ever lain with you.’
‘You do not need to,’ he answered. ‘Not one of them could put you in the shade. Now, let us see how nimble-fingered you are.’
‘I have not dressed many kings,’ she said.
‘I trust you will only dress one, my lady.’
‘There is no question of it, because there is only one king I would wish to assist with even his gloves.’ She helped him, but as he was about to fasten the front of his doublet, she halted. ‘One moment, my lord . . .’ She moved close and put her lips to his chest, moving them adoringly over his warmth. Then she opened her purse and took out a small kerchief she had placed there earlier. It was the first thing she had ever embroidered—in a design of sweet cicely flowers and leaves—and it meant a great deal to her. She pushed it gently inside the doublet, against his heart, and then completed the fastening herself. ‘Carry it with you, my love, for it will remind you of me.’
‘Jesu, Cicely, do you think I need reminding?’
Their lips joined again, and then she pulled back slightly. ‘I will go now, but parting from you is still so hard that—’
He put a finger to her lips. ‘No more words, Cicely, for we do not need them. We know what is in our hearts.’
‘Sometimes words say more than they seem to. The last time we parted, you said such beautiful things to me, and one keeps returning. Now I say it. Take my love with you, and always keep it close, for it can never belong to another.’
He pressed her palm to his lips, and then led her down the stairs again. He picked up the lantern and went to a table, upon which she saw the few things he had needed to write to Jack. There was another letter there, folded, sealed, and he gave it to her. ‘Put it in your purse. Do not read it now, but when you are private.’
‘Richard . . .’
‘In your purse,’ he said again.
She did as he bade, but her hands shook so much that he had to help her. His fingers were firm and steady. ‘I have not said how the colour of your gown pleases me. It is a colour to gladden the heart,’ he said.
‘That is why I wore it.’
‘I know.’ He smiled. ‘Now, Robert will see you safely back to Sheriff Hutton.’
She gazed at him, absorbing every detail, every small thing that made him what he was to her. ‘I love you so very much,’ she whispered.
‘And I you.’
She hesitated a moment more, finding this parting so much more difficult than the one before, and that had been anguish enough. There was something else now, something she could not identify but which touched her with a cold finger. He was alone and in peril, and he affected her so much. Where he went, she wanted to be as well, but she could not. Not now. She had to let him go away from her to a fate that might be his salvation and vindication, or might equally be his death.
‘Please, Cice
ly,’ he said softly. ‘Go.’
Choking back her tears, she turned and went from him. She felt as if her heart tried to leap out of her breast to return to him to whom it belonged. It was all she could do not to return to him. Not to even look back. The pre-dawn light was blessedly anonymous, hiding her distress as she went to where Robert waited with the horses.
He was kind. ‘You will see him again, Lady Cicely.’
‘Will I?’
‘Do not even think that you will not,’ he said quickly, almost superstitiously.
She struggled for composure. ‘I cannot bear to leave him, I simply cannot bear it.’ She turned on impulse to go back but he prevented her.
‘No, my lady. Let him be. Do you think he finds this moment any easier than you? I must take you back to Sheriff Hutton, and then he and I must make all haste back to Nottingham.’
‘Look after him for me, Sir Robert.’
He nodded. ‘You may rely upon it, Lady Cicely.’
The others had returned the previous evening, but at this early hour she saw no one. Except Jack, whom she encountered on the steps that led up to the private apartments.
He halted before her, the light of a wall torch in his eyes and through his amethyst. ‘How now, sweet Cicely? Creeping home at dawn?’
‘Yes.’
‘How is he?’
‘Who?’
He folded his arms. ‘The king.’
‘Well.’
‘And lusty, by the air about you.’ He smiled and stepped aside for her to pass. ‘He is a fortunate man, Cicely Plantagenet, and the only one whose place in your heart I could not take.’
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