The Darkest Hour chapter 20
- Guy, you are out of your mind! - Meg, who had been pacing around the room wringing her hands, had stopped at the window to squint into the afternoon sun before turning back to Guy. – You tried to kill King Richard once and you have now asked for an audience with him?!
- Twice.
- What?
- I tried to kill him twice.
Oh, this just gets better and better.
Two more weeks had passed; Guy and Meg were still staying at the Wanderer's Rest, as neither one had a particular desire to return to the forest, no longer believing it sufficiently safe after Guy's run-in with the mercenaries. In the meantime, the persistent rumours had come true as Richard had arrived in Nottingham. He was troubled by unrest in his kingdom's heartland and so close to York, and saw it as a sovereign's duty to restore law and order in person. So as of the day before, he and his small retinue had installed themselves in one of the castle towers that was still intact, meeting with local nobles and preparing for a larger Council gathering in three days.
And now, Meg had just discovered that her betrothed had put in a plea for an audience.
- Guy, please do not do this.
- I have no choice, Margaret, he is my sovereign still whether I like it or not - and by now frankly I do not care - but I need to go before him. If I do not he will send for me anyway, - he added sourly. Since Richard had come back, Guy was living on borrowed time.
- Yes you have a choice. Let us go away, to Wales, to France –
- Meg.
- Guy?
- I am not running.
- So you'd rather be dead?
- I would rather have some honour left intact, and if he chooses to execute me, at least I will not die like a coward.
And I will die like the heartbroken woman that I will be.
- I want you alive, do you hear me?
- Well, if I get that chance, I will try to beg and grovel, for your sake.
- This is not funny.
- I am not being funny.
Meg was close to tears. Short of going to Richard herself, she could not think of a way to stop her headstrong husband-to-be from getting himself killed.
- Am I really so bad that you want to get killed to avoid marrying me?
Guy stretched out a hand from the bed he had been sitting on and, catching Meg's fingers, pulled her to him.
- You know this is not true.
Needless to say, she knew this to be untrue, but could not help throwing the barb just in case it worked. She seemed to be running dangerously short of arguments lately.
- I do not want you to die.
- I am still alive.
- I mean, ever.
- That would be difficult, my love.
- You know what I mean.
- I know... – she was too close to him, and too lovely, and too tempting. He bent his head slightly to kiss her neck and felt her hand tighten on his shoulder. -. I will see what I can do, - he said in between kisses.
They parted company about an hour before dinner; Guy went to the stables to make sure that his horse was properly shod and groomed and the saddle was in order – ostensibly to avoid an embarrassing accident upon arrival at the castle, but in reality to get his mind off the impending audience. Meg tried to busy herself with embroidery and when that failed, reading the Psalms; but neither served to distract her from uneasy thoughts. They said little at dinner, and soon afterwards Guy announced that he was going to bed, pleading fatigue, and kissed her good night. They had agreed to see each other in the morning at breakfast before Guy left for the audience. But as Meg sat on her bed and the hours dragged away, she could not bear it any longer.
Walking over to Guy's bedchamber, she knocked on the door.
- Meg, - Guy's voice was tired but tender as opened the door to her. – what is the matter?
- I cannot sleep, - she said in a small voice.
From his fully dressed and alert state, it was obvious that Guy could not sleep, either.
He took her in his arms and walked over to the bed, setting her down on it and lying down next t her.
- You should try, - he whispered as he stroked her face. – You will only wear yourself out by worrying.
- I cannot help it, - she moaned. – I cannot help thinking of the danger you are going into. If you die, I will...
- What?
Never marry. Cry myself to death. Never look at a man again.
- I will go back to Kirklees to become a nun.
- Don't. You should have a life, get a husband. - A more deserving one, hopefully.
– I already have one
– Not yet.
- Well, if this is about taking my body, there is not much left to do. And I am never letting another man do that to me. They could not possibly be half as good as him.
- How would you know all that, anyway?
- Eleanor told me once.
Women. She is half my age and she knows everything.
- And if that is what it takes, I will tie you to the bed right here and not let you go until you have made me your wife.
He could not help laughing.
- Well, there is the matter of the vows too.
- I will call a priest here.
Who would have ever thought that a lovely, desirable woman would be cornering me into marriage? Damn, this is worth begging and grovelling to stay alive.
- Why does everyone always want to do that to me?
- What, marry you?
- No, tie me up. Between trees, bedposts, and the gallows, there is something about me and ropes and wooden restraints that gives people itchy fingers.
For a while they lay still, facing each other and holding hands, until Guy leaned over to kiss her and she sidled up to him.
They found themselves unable to pull away, clinging to each other as they shared kisses, slow and gentle at first, growing more frenzied after Guy parted her lips with his tongue and she returned the kiss. When Meg paused to catch her breath in a few moments, she looked at Guy, her eyes dark with passion.
- Take me, Guy... please, - she moaned.
He stopped still as his eyes went wide.
- Meg... it hurts the first time, you know that?
- I know, - she conceded. Her mind had been made up and there was no dissuading her.
- We are not even married, - he managed finally.
- I do not care, - she insisted before she sought out his mouth again and pressed her body tight against his, her fingers clawing at his back as she pulled him on top of her.
- You can tell me to stop anytime, you know, - his tone was almost begging.
- I know, - she whispered as she strained to meet his lips again.
It was a dizzying, intoxicating feeling, succumbing to the ecstasy of the kisses, tearing the clothes off his body and off her own, knowing herself to be on the brink of adulthood, feeling Guy's strong arms on her body as he slowly parted her thighs –
And then he was easing himself inside her, and she whimpered at the stab of pain as her flesh was stretched and torn, but still held on to him as tight as she could.
- Meg, do you want me to stop now? – he asked, his concerned eyes never leaving her face.
She shook her head.
- Meg... look at me, - he asked again.
She opened her eyes and felt a jolt run through her body at seeing his face raw with emotion, those beautiful eyes shining at her with boundless love.
- Do not... even... think... of stopping, - she gasped. She was still feeling sore, but also thrilled at the ultimate closeness that she was now sharing with this man. It was gratifying to feel him move inside her body, to know that they were both truly naked before each other. And as she felt him shudder as he released himself inside her, she found herself kissing his face in sudden gratitude.
Afterwards, as she was drifting off to sleep in Guy's arms, Meg whispered:
- It was not at all bad, really. I thought it would be much worse.
Guy gave her a gentle smile.
- I promise it will get better after this, - he murmured back before kissing her ear. And now, I have no choice but to try to stay alive at all costs, at least until I have married her.
And now, thought Meg, he has no choice, honourable as he is, to try to stay alive at least until he marries me. I hope it is long enough to get him out of danger.
***************************
Meg watched him dress in the morning, her heart breaking, her eyes wide with terror. Guy looked so incredibly handsome, and so resolute, and so smart in his sharply tailored clothes, that she could not help admiring him even as she wanted to berate him once more for his suicidal recklessness.
Instead, she made her best attempt at lifting their spirits.
- There is no reason for you to be condemned. You have been a hero in this city. Everyone knows that you fought bravely in the siege on the King's side. – Meg walked up to him and straightened the collar of his jacket. – And you are gorgeous.
- I hope King Richard thinks so, - said Guy absent-mindedly, having registered only the beginning of Meg's remark.
- I hope not! – she said pointedly, thinking instead of the last bit she had said.
- What? – Guy's incomprehending look gave way to laughter as he realized the double entendre. – Oh, I am with you, my lovely, on that one.
- Guy, are you sure that you do not want me to go with you? – Meg asked, again, as they descended the stairs.
- As much s it pains me to say so, yes.
- And you would not let me if I asked?
- It is better this way, ma chère. What if they drag me right off to the scaffold?
They stopped in the doorway, and Guy gathered her in his arms, Meg barely able to hold back tears. They kissed, desperately, savagely, as if trying to get a lifetime's worth of kisses into one, before Guy stood back and looked at her with a mixture of longing and resignation.
- Farewell, my love.
- I shall pray for you, - Meg said as she watched him jump into the saddle and ride out of sight.
And if you do not come back, I hope there shall be someone left to pray for me.
end Chapter 20