Sapphire in the Snow - Award-Winning Medieval Historical Romance

by Townend, Carol

  ‘I remember,’ Beatrice answered softly.

  Edmund walked round the bed and sat down, easing his finely embroidered wedding tunic over his head. He kept his back to Beatrice and began to unwind the thongs binding his chausses, unaware of her scrutiny. The flickering light gleamed on well-muscled arms and back. She looked at the white bandage which crossed over his right shoulder. The last time she had seen him without his tunic he had been helpless in her arms in the sanctuary of the chapel. Despite that bandage, he did not look so helpless now.

  The butterflies were back in her stomach. She found it hard to breathe. Her fingers itched to touch him. She wanted to feel the slender strength of his body under her hands. She wanted to kiss him and to tell him that she loved him. She wanted him to hold her. She wanted to hear him say that he loved her too.

  She remembered his wound. She set her wine aside. ‘Edmund?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘When was your wound looked at?’

  He continued his unwinding. ‘Yesterday...the day before...I cannot rightly remember.’

  ‘Let me see it.’

  ‘It’s well enough.’

  ‘That may be,’ Beatrice answered steadily, and climbed on to the bed, ‘but I would see for myself.’

  Edmund sent her a sharp look. He put his hands behind his neck and obediently stretched out his long length on the covers.

  ‘Do your worst,’ he grinned.

  Her heart beating like a drum, Beatrice gently drew the wrappings aside. She could feel Edmund’s gaze burning into her. He flustered her. ‘Thank God these rags are cleaner than your leper’s ones,’ she said, to cover her discomfiture.

  Edmund was watching her mouth. His eyes lifted. They were very dark. They seemed to smoulder.

  ‘Well?’ he asked huskily. ‘Will I live?’

  Beatrice nodded. ‘Aye. It’s healing cleanly.’ All thumbs, she replaced the bandage. She turned to roll off the bed.

  ‘Beatrice, stay.’ Edmund caught at her arm.

  She froze. His hand slid down her arm and he curled his fingers round hers. Her stomach tightened.

  ‘Won’t you tell me what the matter is?’ he asked.

  ‘M...matter?’

  ‘Do you regret marrying me?’

  ‘N...nay. I’ve told you already–’

  Edmund expelled a breath. ‘I know, and before so many witnesses. Believe me, Beatrice, I would have had it otherwise, but circumstances–’

  ‘I know.’ Beatrice looked away. ‘It’s not that.’

  Edmund reached to cup her chin with his hand and brought her face back. ‘What, then?’

  ‘I...I did not want to be the King’s gift.’

  Edmund stared. His hand dropped. ‘I see,’ he said in a cold, hard voice.

  ‘No, you misunderstand,’ Beatrice blurted. ‘Allow me my pride too.’

  ‘Pride?’ He frowned.

  ‘I wanted...hoped that you would want me too. I did not want the King to make me a condition of you regaining your father’s lands.’

  Edmund’s brow cleared. ‘Is that all?’

  Beatrice gave a strained laugh. ‘All? It is no small thing in my mind.’

  He took her chin again, and made her meet his gaze. ‘Beatrice, I went to the King...for you,’ he said simply.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. I went to the King for you.’

  ‘You went for your lands – for your people and your lands.’

  Edmund shook his head. ‘Not entirely. I also went for you,’ he whispered, very low, and his fingers were at the back of her neck, caressing, warming...

  ‘B...but Edmund, I don’t understand.’

  Edmund smiled. ‘Neither do I,’ he admitted wryly. ‘Our races were at war, my people driven from their lands, and all I could think about was a little maid with bright hazel eyes.’ He paused. ‘The King would have had me wed with Anne.’

  ‘Anne is an heiress,’ Beatrice told him.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I have nothing.’

  ‘You are all I want. God’s Blood, woman! I paid your king good Saxon gold to get you. My father’s treasure.’

  ‘You mean you bought me!’ Beatrice cried in disgust.

  Edmund ran his hands through his hair. ‘Dear God! Must you twist everything I say? Your King is little more than a mercenary. Gold speaks to him in a way that little else can. The gold I gave him bought me freedom of choice. As his liege-man I could not wed without his approval. The gold did not buy you, it gave me leave to ask you for your hand.’

  He grasped her by the shoulders and his eyes burned with a fierce light. He shook her. ‘Beatrice, I will be denied no longer. I want you so much. And you are my wife...’

  A flush scorched her cheeks. Beatrice swallowed. ‘You have made a poor bargain, I fear. I should have brought you something. I have no lands, no dowry.’

  ‘Be quiet,’ Edmund ordered, and reached for the circlet which kept her filmy veil in place.

  ‘Wh...what are you doing?’

  A light kiss fell on her lips. The look in Edmund’s eyes made her protestations dissolve along with her bones. ‘I need you, Beatrice,’ he told her. ‘No more words. It is time I showed you what I feel. Your wedding veil, beautiful though it is, has no place in our bed.’ Deft fingers moved on her hair, and veil and circlet were cast to the floor.

  ‘Edmund, it will be crumpled,’ Beatrice said feebly.

  He grinned. ‘I care not. Now your hair.’

  He pulled her plait over her shoulder. His face was very close to hers. He was concentrating on untying the ribbons. Beatrice let her eyes wander over his face, noting the way his hair grew back from his temples, the long line of his nose, the curve of his mouth. He was right, the words could wait. After all, what matter that he had not said he loved her? He was her husband, and she loved him...

  His fingers fumbled at the silken bows.

  ‘Let me,’ she said, catching his hand.

  The ribbons followed the veil to the floor. He loosed her hair with unsteady fingers and spread it about her shoulders.

  Edmund paused, a question in his eyes, and Beatrice opened her arms to him. ‘You’re shaking too,’ he said, softly, and gathered her close.

  ‘Aye.’ Shyly, Beatrice ran her hand over his naked shoulder. She felt his muscles flex and tense. She cleared her throat. ‘Edmund?’

  ‘Mmm?’ He pressed his lips to her neck.

  ‘I’m not sure I feel safe with you any more,’ she confessed, her hand straying through his dark hair. The skin on his neck was soft and warm. She liked the feel of it beneath her fingers.

  His mouth lifted from her neck. His breathing had become ragged. ‘Do you want to feel safe?’

  Beatrice smiled. She could not trust her voice, so she shook her head.

  ‘Thank God for that.’ His voice was rough. He buried his head in the mass of her hair and inhaled its fragrance. ‘Lavender,’ he murmured.

  He rolled on to his back and pulled her down so she fell half across him. One of her legs tangled, deliciously excitingly, with his. He smiled. His eyes glowed in the flaring yellow light. ‘Kiss me, Beatrice.’

  Gently, Beatrice touched a lean cheek. Her hair flowed, red tongues of fire, over his chest and white bandage. Shyly she dipped her head. Their lips met, clung for a moment, and when she would have lifted away, Edmund held her head in place and would not free her.

  The kiss went wild. Her lips softened, parted for him. Gold fire ran along her veins. He’d set her alight. Every inch of her tingled where she touched him. His mouth moved under hers, warm and tender. She pressed closer. She could feel the warmth of his chest through her gown and it made her breasts ache. Even the leg that was still half over him tingled too. Beatrice groaned, and soft and malleable as melting wax, she sagged against him.

  Edmund ran a hand lightly down the length of her body. A frisson of delight rippled through her.

  ‘How do you do that?’ she gasped.

  He tilted his head and
smiled his heart-stopping smile. ‘Natural charm.’ A wicked light gleamed in his eyes. ‘Many’s the maid who...’

  ‘Why, you conceited ass!’ Beatrice pulled back and raised a clenched fist.

  Edmund deflected the blow. ‘Careful, love,’ he reminded her. ‘I’m not quite mended.’

  Beatrice stared aghast at the snowy bandage. ‘I’m sorry–’

  ‘So you should be. It’s a terrible thing to strike a wounded man,’ he said, shaking his tousled head. His expression changed. It tugged at her heart, disarmed her. He shifted in the bed, and put a strong arm round her waist. ‘Come here, woman.’

  Hazel eyes fixed wide on his, Beatrice moved into his arms. Edmund’s long fingers stroked every inch of her face, they moved down to her neck, leaving a trail of fire. He kissed her mouth. He groaned, and his hand continued its gentle exploration, moving to her shoulders, her breasts.

  Beatrice tried to keep her breathing even, but could not. She tried to stop herself from clinging to him like a drowning woman, but that, too, was impossible. Her arms looped round his neck. Her fingers dived into his raven locks, they clung to him, ran over his back. She was suffocated, drowning in a sea of longing. She had never realised how much desire was like hunger.

  Then Edmund’s dark head was at her breast, kissing her through her gown. Faint with longing, Beatrice held him close. Her arms did not seem to belong to her any more. Edmund lifted his head. He smiled again, that rare, heart-stopping smile.

  Beatrice did not protest when his fingers found the fastenings of her gown. She could not have spoken if she’d tried. As if in a dream she watched her gown float through the air and land on the discarded veil and ribbons.

  Edmund’s sharply indrawn breath woke her to reality, and she realised with a shock that his eyes were on her naked body. Her hands became her own again, and she snatched a blanket over her. She burned from head to toe.

  Edmund put warm hands on hers. ‘You are so beautiful, Beatrice. Let me look on you.’ He bent to bury his face in the hair which swirled at her neck, his lips seeking the skin beneath. He brushed hands and covering aside. He raised his head. Beatrice gave an inarticulate murmur and tried to hide her flushed face, but he would not have it. Long fingers kept her head towards him. ‘Look at me, my love,’ he said.

  His eyes were dark with desire, full of undisguised longing. They were irresistible.

  A slender hand came up and her fingers brushed shyly across his mouth. ‘Edmund,’ she whispered.

  He planted a kiss in the palm of her hand, and sought her lips. Beatrice gasped. The kiss heated every fibre of her being. Her fingers wound into his hair, she felt him tugging impatiently at his remaining clothing. She couldn’t breathe. She shut her eyes and buried her head in his neck.

  He was naked. She could feel him, all of him, next to her. She could feel his legs, lithe and well-muscled, could tell how much he desired her. Her stomach tightened. She went rigid with apprehension.

  Edmund prised himself free. ‘Beatrice?’

  She gave an inarticulate murmur. When it was done, she’d be able to talk again, but not till then.

  She heard a sigh and felt Edmund cover them both with the furs.

  ‘Beatrice? You are a liar,’ he said softly.

  Beatrice opened her eyes.

  His expression was tender. He cupped her face with his hands. ‘You said you did not fear me–’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Then why have you turned to wood in my arms? Relax. I will be gentle,’ he promised. ‘Beatrice, please...help me make this good for you.’ Blue eyes smiled deep into hers.

  ‘I love you, Edmund.’ She went, unhesitating, into his embrace. She felt Edmund’s long body move over hers, heard his low groan of desire.

  ‘Oh, my sweet, sweet girl,’ he muttered in her ear. His legs nudged hers apart. Edmund raised himself over her. He was so far away. She wanted him close. She caught at his waist.

  ‘I’ll be gentle, and you’ll see–’ he said, lowering his hips between her thighs ‘–next time...next time it will not hurt at all...’

  They were watching each others’ faces as he entered her. Beatrice saw the yearning in his eyes, the flare of passion, barely held down. She winced at the burning sensation low in her belly. It felt strange to have him inside her. But that was all.

  Edmund waited so her body had time to accustom itself to him. Her hazel eyes were wide and startled, filled with surprise, not pain. She kissed his shoulder and smiled at him. He wanted to move...

  He found her lips. They were soft and welcoming. One of her arms was round his neck, the other tight about his waist.

  Edmund moved.

  ***

  The torch had gone out. One last candle flickered low in the wall sconce by the bed. Beatrice sighed, nestled safe in strong arms. ‘I didn’t know it would be like that,’ she admitted sleepily.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Wonderful. Like magic. Did you find it so?’ Hazel eyes searched his face, his dark ruffled hair.

  ‘Mmm,’ Edmund kissed her brow, his arms tightened on her and a smile curved the finely chiselled lips. His eyes were closed.

  ‘Edmund?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘There’s something missing,’ she murmured softly. ‘It’s not enough.’

  He gave no sign he’d heard her. Beatrice took a deep breath and raised her voice. ‘Edmund, when...when you abducted me, would you really have ransomed me?’

  He lifted his eyelids, suddenly fully awake. ‘What? What did you say?’ he asked sharply.

  ‘Would you have ransomed me?’

  ‘Lord, no,’ Edmund said, a smile hovering at the edge of his mouth. ‘It was never my intention to ransom you. You know that.’

  ‘Do I?’ She watched him. ‘Edmund, why did you carry me off?’

  He rubbed his face. His fingers sought for her sapphire ring. He wiggled it and grinned at her. ‘I could not resist your beauty,’ he said flippantly. ‘You have this to prove it.’

  Beatrice sat up, tossed her hair back over her shoulders, and pulled the ring from her finger. ‘Tell me what it says.’

  He groaned. ‘For the love of God, Beatrice. Let us sleep now.’

  But Beatrice glimpsed that wicked light in his eyes. ‘Tell me.’

  Edmund’s lips twitched. He took the ring from her and made as if to peer at the inscription. ‘Alas, the light is so poor, I cannot make it out.’

  ‘Edmund...’

  He heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘It’s simple enough. It says: To my beloved.’

  Her heart began to sing. She kissed his chest.

  ‘It is one of two,’ Edmund went on. ‘My father had them made. One, this one, he gave to my mother. The other was fashioned with garnets. He gave that one to his wife.’

  ‘But...but,’ Beatrice objected. ‘Sapphires have greater value than garnets.’

  ‘Ah. You mean it is a strange thing to give the cheaper ring to a wife?’ Edmund said.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘My father loved my mother. He would have married her if he could. But a marriage had been arranged with the Lady Judith. It had to be honoured.’

  ‘Was there an inscription inside Lady Judith’s ring?’ Beatrice wondered.

  ‘Aye. It says: To my betrothed.’

  ‘You have both rings?’ she asked.

  ‘I do.’

  Beatrice sighed happily. ‘And you gave me this one.’

  Edmund nodded. His blue eyes were very warm. ‘Aye. At last you begin to comprehend. Put it on again, my love, or you’ll lose it in the bedclothes.’

  ‘You...you do love me,’ Beatrice said, and her eyes shone.

  ‘Aye,’ Edmund agreed softly. ‘I did from the first.’

  ‘Truly?’

  He laughed and nodded. ‘Though why I should fall for a Norman...’ His voice deepened, his lips sought hers.

  Beatrice ran her hand down his back, delighting in the shudder of desire she loosed through his body. She was weak again, we
ak with longing.

  ‘Barbarian,’ she murmured lovingly against his mouth, and pulled him close.

  *****

  Books by Carol Townend

  The Knights of Champagne – set in twelfth century France:

  Lady Isobel’s Champion 2013

  Unveiling Lady Clare 2014

  Palace Brides – trilogy set in eleventh century Byzantium:

  Bound to the Barbarian 2010

  Chained to the Barbarian 2012

  Betrothed to the Barbarian 2012

  Wessex Weddings – mini-series set in Early Norman England:

  The Novice Bride 2007

  An Honourable Rogue 2008

  His Captive Lady 2009

  Runaway Lady, Conquering Lord 2009

  Her Banished Lord 2010

  The Herevi Sagas:

  The Stone Rose 1992 (First Edition) New Edition 2013

  Blackthorn Winter 1993 (First Edition)

  Historical romances:

  Shattered Vows 1989 (First Edition) New Revised Edition 2013

  Sapphire in the Snow 1989 (First Edition) New Edition 2014

  Leaves on the Wind 1990

  Non Fiction:

  Royal Russia: The Private Albums of the Russian Imperial Family Latest Edition 2006

  More about Carol Townend and her writing may be found here:

  http://www.caroltownend.co.uk