Tudor Rose (The Tudor Dynasty Series)

by Salisbury, Jamie

  “Zara, I’m sorry I didn’t get back with you sooner. You mentioned Thanksgiving. What can I tell you?”

  “Everything,” I reply. “Amadeus’ answers are to ask you!”

  “That sounds about right. Men!” She graciously walks me through the day and meal. “I extended an invitation to Damien and Julia.”

  “Perhaps the holiday will make a difference.”

  “Yes, we can hope. Amadeus did let you know about our annual day after shopping trip, didn’t he? We leave at four or five in the morning and shop till we drop!”

  Oh crap, now I have to be the one to tell her about the show in New York. “Yes, he did, but I’m afraid we’re leaving Friday Grace. He’s been invited to perform at an annual charity concert Peter McNichol sponsors every year.”

  Silence. She says nothing. “I see,” she replies frostily, “I guess that’s a good thing for Amadeus then.”

  “Yes, Peter McNichol personally asked Amadeus.” The temperature on this discussion has iced over, I tell myself and I don’t have a response to satisfy her.

  “Well, good. I’ll get back to you about what to bring Zara. I’m not quite done with all the details.”

  Someone is watching over me because my beloved husband walks through the door moments after the conversation with his mother ended.

  “Zara? What is it?”

  “Crap A, I think I just pissed your mom off.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You‘re being a little hyper sensitive. This Thanksgiving is our first, and the experience is unknown to you.” The entire conversation with Grace pours out of me like a river flowing. I’m on the verge of tears, but as usual he finds the good, pointing everything out to me.

  “Wait until she finds out we’re leaving New York after the concert for London, Zara,” he laughs as he conjures up the vision in his head. “For her, the holidays are special, and she wants no, she expects family around her. This year she’s going to have to accept things as they fall.”

  I nod my head in agreement. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask how your dental appointment went.”

  “Fine,” he says, smiling mischievously.

  Whatever this latest alleged threat against Amadeus is, I’m not aware of anything out of the ordinary and am confident all remains quiet. Artie and his friend are in the middle of legal issues stemming from Tudor Rose. He has the resources to have his attorney’s keep everything tied up in limbo for years. I intend for our first holiday season to be special, even with my guard up.

  Thanksgiving is upon us fast. We arrive at Grace and William’s, knowing we have to tell them of our pending trip to London. I take a chocolate cake I make from scratch that Amadeus loves. Not a traditional Thanksgiving dessert, but he confesses he isn’t a huge fan of seasonal pies and overly sweet cakes.

  I send Julia an e-mail regarding Thanksgiving asking her to consider attending with Damien and their girls, since law suit has nothing to do with William and Grace. I am pleasantly surprised when we arrive and find Amadeus’ oldest brother there. Damien is in high spirits and except for the physical reminders of his stroke he participates in all the taunting and teasing going on between the siblings.

  The clan gathers in the dining room for the feast. I am overwhelmed by the throng of people. My own family gave up functions like this long ago. We’re all too spread out all over the globe. After dinner, a lot of time is spent at the table, every one catching up with each other.

  “Girls, Zara won’t be able to join us tomorrow,” Grace begins. “I’m afraid she and Amadeus must leave for New York City.”

  “Wait a minute,” Angus interrupts, what is so damned important?”

  Grace continues, “Amadeus is to perform at some la de da benefit concert.”

  “What benefit concert?”

  “Peter McNichol asked me to perform at his annual charity gig,” Amadeus replies. The entire table is quiet, and we’re the ’sacrificial lambs’. Everyone is mesmerized waiting for the details.

  “The Peter McNichol asked you, Amadeus Tudor to perform at his benefit?” Angus asks, shaking his head. “Why?”

  “Because,” I break in, “Peter McNichol evidently is quite a fan of your brother’s music.”

  “Cool, I’m happy for you A,” Damien chimes in. “I’m proud of you little brother.” The statement is the first comment Damien’s made in all the family commotion.

  “Thanks, the show is suppose to be broadcast some time before Christmas on network TV.” Amadeus shoots me a glance out of the corner of his eye. We should let them in on our trip to England now.

  “Something else, Zara and I are heading to England afterwards for about ten days. Peter invited us. He and I are planning to do some writing together.”

  “Amadeus, congratulations,” William tells his youngest.

  We take in all the well wishes from this noisy bunch. Grace gives us her support, but not before she voices her opinion. “Where exactly are you going in England? You are coming back for Christmas, aren’t you?”

  “We’re staying at Peter’s farm. His farm is a little over an hour outside London, I believe, and of course, we’ll be home for Christmas.” I reply, wrapping my arm around Amadeus’, who’s seated next to me.

  “Wait, you’re going to stay at his farm, his personal home?” Angus asks us. “Man!”

  The day progresses, children and adults alike taking advantage of a rarely seen clear November day. While football reigns outside in the yard and on the TV, Amadeus finds us an out of the way, quiet corner. A huge, overstuffed chair does the trick as we curl up together. I am losing myself in pleasure as he caresses and massages my arm, keeping me close, until the sound of screaming, unruly children run through our tranquil retreat. We rejoin the group, laughing.

  I head into the kitchen looking for a glass, Amadeus wants something to drink. Grace is heading out, but stays, showing me where to find what I’d come for.

  “Zara, am I imagining things, or does Amadeus seem to be a little more, how shall I say, protective of you?”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’s just enjoying the day, Grace. We won’t have a lot of time to ourselves after today, not until we return from England.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m not used to seeing him so content. He’s always been quite restless.”

  Armed with his drink I return only to find A has moved outside, running through the backyard football tucked under his arm, nephews and nieces in hot pursuit. I watch for a few minutes before joining the women who are in a discussion about their children’s antics before they pull me in and turn the conversation to Amadeus and me.

  “Do you and Amadeus want children, Zara?” Anne inquires picking up her mug of hot tea.

  “Yes we do.”

  “My advice, Zara, don’t wait or the next thing you know years will pass and your biological clock will run out.” Anne has four children with her husband Chris. She is also Angus’ fraternal twin.

  “Anne is right, my dear,” Grace chimes in, “too many women wait and then they have to resort to fertility treatments.”

  “I‘m aware of the consequences.” Ha! I think to myself, if they only knew we’ve never used any type of birth control. Tongues certainly would be wagging.

  Seeking refuge from this personal discussion, I scan the yard for Amadeus. I spot him on the patio, deep in conversation with Damien. I find my escape route, Julia joins me.

  “You don’t mind if I take some pictures, do you?” I ask, motioning toward the two.

  “No, of course not. You realize Zara, the law suit is a moot point now. Tudor Rose doesn’t exist, at least as their previous form and Amadeus is well on his way as a solo artist. No hard feelings?”

  “There never were any hard feelings, Julia, just confusion.”

  Grace overhears this and is beside herself with joy. “Julia, that’s the best news. Thank you.”

  “No need Grace, it’s the right thing to do. I just want to protect what’s rightfully Damien’s, especially after a
ll he’s been through.”

  I grab my camera and start toward the door. “I’ve got to get this now, before they move on to something else.”

  I approach the two, who are still engrossed in their reunion and start taking pictures randomly. A stands and drags another chair over next to his. I sit while these two siblings catch up. I’ve met Damien throughout the years, but it has generally been in a public setting. He’s a shell of what he had once been. In his day, Damien was known as a hard core partier, at least that was his image as a performer. In private, very devoted to his wife and kids. Now, after having survived a serious stroke at a young age, his world has done a one-eighty turn around. While it is obvious his mind is as sharp as ever, his words now come almost forced. Speech takes thought. While he can walk, he does so with effort, preferring to use a wheelchair for long distances.

  “Zara, I was telling my brother here he has a once in a lifetime opportunity now as a solo artist. He’s always been the one with the most talent. He needs to embrace this new phase of his career. I know you will help him go far.”

  “Thank you Damien,” I reply, “that means a lot. I hope you can come see him perform next year.”

  “Have any of the guys from Tudor Rose been in touch A? That whole thing does not make any sense as long as you’ve all known each other.”

  “No, I’ve had no contact with them. Not my choice, I’d like to have them answer a few things.”

  Amadeus senses his brother is tiring from all the day’s activities and once he assists him into the house he takes full advantage of carving out an exit for us. He feigns the preparation we still have to finish for our trip in the morning.

  The ride home is for the most part quiet. The activities of the day have left us drained.

  “Did you have fun, Zara? I know you’re not accustomed to large, crazy family functions like todays. We didn’t scare you off did we?”

  “I was fine, once I eased myself into the fray. You were a big help, so no ya’ll didn’t scare me off.” He is right, my family gatherings were nothing like what I witnessed today, not Thanksgiving anyway.

  “I was impressed with Julia, bringing Damien and the girls in spite of the law suit,” he adds a slight grin comes across his face at the thought.

  “She told me the whole law suit was a moot point now. Protecting Damien’s legacy is all it was ever about. So, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot more of them now. I hope so for Damien’s sake. He really seemed happy being around everyone.”

  “Yeah, he looked good, didn’t he? We talked for a long time this afternoon, first time the two of us have been able to do that in quite a long time,” he pauses, “and I pray Julia does drop that law suit.”

  The remainder of the holiday is spent packing for both our trips. I had begun organizing a few weeks prior, laying everything out in the extra bedroom, out of the way. It has proved to make the job a lot easier.

  As I finish up, I realize Amadeus is at his piano playing a classical piece. I stand in the hallway, listening to his superb rendition of the music. I quietly enter the living room and sit myself on the sofa. He’s unaware of my presence at first, and when he does catch sight of me merely continues until he completes the piece.

  “I don’t think I’ve heard you play in ages. You need to play more.”

  “Well, I’ve had a few other things that have preoccupied me lately.” He grins as he walks over and sits beside me.

  “Don’t stop because of me, please continue. I’d love to hear more.”

  “Would you now?” he teases as his hand finds my cheek and our mouths meet for a kiss, his tongue outlines my lips before I imitate his action and we begin to explore the depths and sweetness of each other. When our lips finally part, I break free of the intoxicating effect he has on me.

  “Yes, I would love to hear more but it’s getting late A, and we should probably call it a day. We have to get up early to get to the airport.” I stand and start walking through the room, turning off lights. I glance over at the sofa. He’s still sitting where I left him. I walk back toward him and offer my hand.

  “You’ve never refused me Zara.” he exclaims as he gets up with my help, trying to look hurt.

  “I’m not refusing you, my love. I would never do that. We are though going to have to learn to prioritize.”

  “Zara, please! I can’t wait any longer. Please?” He starts down the hall taking me in tow toward the bedroom.

  Locked in passion, his hands exploring until his desires are found. He forces my legs apart, then plunges his throbbing erection, penetrating deep within me. We move together, his rocking becoming harder, quicker until both his hands are beneath me holding me tighter against him as the most white hot sub-lime pleasure consumes us.

  Unsure if I fell asleep, I am entranced by his soft caresses to my behind. I vaguely can visualize he’s next to me on his side. Soon his hand strays off its course, parting my legs enough enabling him to feel the extent of my womanhood.

  “Amadeus?”

  “What, love? I’m right here.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know.”

  He kisses my ear and whispers, “I love you Zara. Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  He chuckles, “For allowing me to be a rutting boar and fuck you. I wasn’t very romantic, but I felt as though I was going to explode if I didn’t get some relief.”

  “Feel better now?” I ask as I feel sleep coming on fast.

  “Much. I love you Zara.”

  Chapter Eight

  We settle in for the long cross continent flight. I pull out my lap top intending to catch up on projects I keep putting off. Once we arrive in Manhattan I know there will be little time for such matters. My sweet husband sleeps the better portion of the flight. Damn him! I envy his ability to sleep so easily.

  Peter goes to extraordinary length to ensure all involved in his benefit are comfortable, and their needs met. Amadeus and I are met at the airport and driven to my Manhattan apartment.

  It is late in the afternoon, too early for dinner. I poke through the pantry finding a can of chicken and crackers. I throw a small bowl of chicken salad together and carry it along with the box of crackers into the living room. A finds a bottle of water and a soda in the refrigerator. I sit and watch him eat. I can’t touch a thing. I’m tired along with being excited about the week-end and conclude that is the reason I don’t have an appetite. Deciding to lay down before we have to get ready for the dinner Peter is hosting, I kiss Amadeus as I head for the bedroom.

  “Please be sure to get me up no later than seven.”

  Dinner is a lavish affair, a who’s who of the entertainment industry and then some. Amadeus is the only new artist Peter has invited to perform this year and has seated us at the head table with him, a real honor. Peter introduces Amadeus, welcoming him to the prestigious group of musicians. The meal is vegetarian which I knew ahead of time that it would be. I pick my way through it enough so I don’t offend our host. The evening takes on a life of its own with some spur of the moment jam sessions taking place. It doesn’t take much convincing to get Amadeus to join in. I watch him from the sidelines, always watching and observing, smiling and encouraging him all the way. And no, I’m not just sitting back, I’m networking, always searching out new opportunities for Amadeus. He finally takes his leave, begging off citing early morning appointments.

  Returning to the tranquility of the apartment, Amadeus voices some concerns.

  “You all right, Zara? I know vegetarian fare isn’t your favorite, but you barely ate a thing.”

  “I’m fine. I wasn’t hungry. I’m just tired, A, really tired.” Hoping this appeases him, I crawl into bed. “Come on, we’ve got a huge day tomorrow.”

  He lays next to me, kissing me as he stays close, unconvinced by my explanation.

  The benefit is an enormous success raising awareness as well as money. Amadeus and I both agree afterwards it was the most fun either of us ever had at a charity event. Although I am nerv
ous about having to sit in the audience, away from him, I hide my feelings and do it. The threats against him still resonate within me, even though I am pretty well convinced I know where they are coming from. I’m hyper vigilant in my observations.

  When the time comes for Amadeus to perform, I am busting with pride at how well received his material is. To everyone’s amazement Peter joins him on stage toward the end of his song and the two continue on into another.

  Media frenzy after the benefit is putting it mildly. There are photographers, news programs, and everyone wants a piece of Amadeus. He and Peter pose for pictures and together take questions. Finally, we leave, arriving at the apartment still on an adrenaline high. After rehashing the show as well as his performance for a couple of hours we are quiet enough to call it a night, but neither of us can fall asleep. Amadeus, frustrated by his inability to sleep, curls up against me and begins kissing me. He raises himself over me, kissing my body slowly, carefully. Once he is sure I’ve had enough of him, he straddles me, consuming me until we are both exhausted and fall fast asleep.

  ******

  London has always been one of our favorite cities. The hotel I booked us into is located in the Kensington area of London. One of the more prominent neighborhoods. We are met at Heathrow by the hotel’s complimentary airport service. The room we settle into is spacious, exquisitely furnished and quiet. Kensington Palace can be seen in the near distance. A bottle of champagne on ice from Peter McNichol waits on the sideboard. A card is attached welcoming us to London.

  As we aren’t due to meet Peter at his farm until Tuesday, Amadeus decides he wants to rent a car allowing us time to sightsee on our own through the country side. We leave out the following morning after a quiet night in and a much elusive good night’s sleep.

  Amadeus masters driving on the ‘wrong side’ of the road in no time and we‘re on our way. Knowing my love of historical churches he has mapped out a couple to visit. We stop and take a tour of Windsor Castle, driving on to Stonehenge. Having my camera at my side, I’m documenting our ‘road trip’ in every detail. Trying to keep things organized, I download the days photos to my laptop every evening, e-mailing a copy to myself as a backup.