Aside from Heaven

Chapter 4o

Alive and Kicking

"Ah, FitzGisborne!" Adamus Boneventure slung his cloak over a chair and sat down across from the Lord of Gisborne. "You missed Sunday morning Mass!"

"That would be My Lord Gisborne, to you," William did not look up from his eggs and sausage. He appeared to be pushing his food counter-clockwise around his plate. "And Abbot Mathias is used to me missing Mass." He speared a piece of sausage and examined it closely. "He gives me penance. I perform it. It is a mutual give and take." The meat was pulled from the knife and disappeared under the table, the sound of a hound enjoying the treat rose from beneath.

"So serious today, William..." he caught William's glare, "excuse me, My Lord Gisborne?" The Sheriff was in a good mood this morning. "Truly, he was concerned about Lady Vivienne and asked about her. How do we fare, this fine morning?" He then realized that Hugh was green and Fulks wasn't far behind. None of the ladies of the manor or family were present and only one servant was in the hall. He beckoned to the girl. "Unless his lordship is disinclined-"

"Agella," William was gruff, "bring the sheriff a plate."

The men waited for the young woman to leave. "Well," Adamus whispered, "do I have a body to claim?"

William never looked up. "Wot body?" He was still moving his food around, not eating.

Neither were his sons.

"Well then, I suppose that is good news! Nasty business dealing with vigilante-"

"Adamus," William picked up his plate and set it in front of his friend, "just eat and ask nothing, so I am not forced to lie to you." He sat back, picking up his goblet. "For the love of Jesu, Hugh, if you're going to be ill, go outside and do so."

Hugh struggled to stand and staggered out of the room. Fulks closed his eyes and appeared to count to some unknown single digit number, before standing up and following his brother out.

Adamus was not paying attention, rather he was digging into the plate in front of him. "I love your cook. I would marry her and run away, if I did not love my own wife! We have put out that Lady Vivienne escaped her captor and you and your knights were in pursuit of locating him. She gave a rather general description of the man and we hope if he's not caught, he will not return. Does that sound fair?"

William nodded.

"My God, man, please tell me you killed him!"

Adamus had been William's best friend since William could remember. They shared secrets, knew secrets. They lost their virginity on the same night, in the same barn hay loft, with only a few bales between them. Lying to the man-

"He will never walk this earth again while breathing." He repeated the same half-truth he told Vivienne. He prayed Adamus would believe the worst.

"Jesu, you've let him live."

The servant came back with the plate and stared at Adamus, eating his lord's breakfast. "Set it here, the man was whining, so I shut him up," William growled, gesturing to his empty place. "We require nothing else. You may clean up later." The girl shook her head and hurried out. Lord William could be curt, but he was rarely so rude to the servants.

"You left him alive!" Adamus was hissing. "How could you-"

"He will not walk this earth and breath, again."

"But you didn't finish the job!"

William stood and reached over the table, grabbing his friend by the collar. "I said he will never walk this earth again!" He slung the man back in his seat, before sitting hard in his own. "His fate is a long, painful, certain death, as he rightly and justly deserves! You will not find him. I will not tell you where he is. If you wish to convince anyone of anything, lead a search party to where we found Vivienne and make sure the damn fire is out!"

There was a scratching at the door as it slid open. Vivienne peeked around the corner, looking wretchedly terrified. It was not a good look on the young woman and it angered William that she was in this position. Forcing a smile, he stood up and held out his hand. "My lady, how do you fare this morning?" As Vivienne came around the table to take his hand, William set her in the chair next to his, squeezing her fingers lightly. He pushed his second helping of breakfast in front of her. "Eat." He felt her tighten. "Please."

She looked at Adamus and back to William. She started to stand. "I have interrupted-"

"Nothing. You have interrupted nothing." He gently pressed on her shoulder, not so subtly reinforcing his request that she sit. "Please eat." As Vivienne sank into the chair, William took his own. "Adamus and I were discussing careful measures to keep Nottinghamshire safer from the likes of your attacker. More guards or patrols, perhaps?"

Adamus raised his goblet and smiled humorlessly. "Perhaps."

The trio spoke of inanities, things of little to no virtue. At some point, William's daughter-in-laws joined them, causing William to go to the kitchens and request a servant. Hugh and Fulks rejoined them as well, both no longer green, but still pale.

For not the first time, nor the last, William questioned allowing his sons to join in the previous evening's atrocities. With a hard blink, he banished the thought. It could not be undone. He would feel guilt for the rest of his life. After dark, he would return to make sure the man was dead and he would go alone. If he was not dead, William would finish the job. Multiple trips into the crypt would be dangerous-

"My Lord?" Vivienne was tapping on his arm.

William's attention reverted so smoothly, one would never know that his previous thought's were so dark. "My lady?"

"I asked a question. Did you not hear?"

"I fear my mind was wandering." He turned in his chair, focusing his full attention on the young woman next to him. "What is your desire?"

Vivienne blushed. She knew where his mind was concerning her and truth be told, hers were not far behind. As his attention weighed down on her, her ego raised its head: there was a long, burning scratch from her collarbone and over her breast that she wanted healed and gone before he unwrapped her. Many women would refuse to bed anyone after the scare she had just endured, but if anything, she needed him more than her fear would consider. All she could think of the previous evening was her need for him to hold her, protect her. Despite her crying out to him last night that she feared he wouldn't show up in time, she knew he was coming, she knew he would protect her.

She knew vengeance was his.

"My Lady?"

"Yes, my..." He scowled. "William," she corrected. "I wanted to discuss the gardens." William's eyebrows raised. "I have set and planted the garden behind my home in Clun as well as the kitchen garden here." She inhaled. "You promised to build an enclosed garden like the one at Locksley," William was grinning as he watched her anxious fidgeting. He knew where this was going.

"And?"

Vivienne tucked her chin in. "I would like it very much if I... we... would accompany Hugh and his wife back to Locksley tomorrow. The garden and greenhouse is a mess-"

"I am in agreement with this."

"-and there are plenty of clippings and seedlings I would like to take samples of to plant here and at Clun."

"You would like to leave tomorrow with Hugh and Ellienna?"

"I would love to see if I... we could cultivate a few orange trees here in Gisborne-"

Both Hugh and Fulks, along with their wives, were watching the conversation with amusement. Adamus was hiding his mouth behind a napkin, in a losing battle to cover his own mirth.

"I suppose you would like to bring Eleanor with you."

"If we had three working medicinal gardens-" Vivienne mind was whirling at a speed, William worked furiously to keep up. "Last winter was such a difficult one; everyone was sick and there just wasn't enough to go around... what?"

William burst into laughter, along with the rest of the table. He took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. "You are very single minded, my lady!" he whispered into her hand. "Yes, we will go with Hugh and Ellienna tomorrow. I expect we will be in Locksley for some days while you and Eleanor tend to the garden. If Ellienna is feeling up to it, I'm sure she will join you."

"And me!" Henriette bounced up. "Maman had a lovely garden, with roses and peonies and..." her voice trailed off. "I miss it." She turned to her husband. "I miss Maman's garden."

For all of his complaining about her boundless energy and sexual appetite, Fulks did love his wife. "Then you shall have one too."

"With roses and peonies?"

"With whatever flower you want that I can find."

Hugh was shaking his head, attempting to not catch eye contact from his own wife. "Don't look at me. There is an entire greenhouse attached to our home. What is there, is there."

"I want roses."

William still had Vivienne's hand to his lips. His sons and their wives were chattering loudly amongst themselves, but neither he or the lady next to him were listening.

"I want you," he whispered.

She leaned down so he could hear her. "I want you, as well. Please be a little patient."

His gaze heated. It was a promise between the two. "When the time is right."

~~~...~~~

It was late that evening when William returned from his grim errand at the edge of the graveyard. Royce was dead, the rats and whatever creatures lived beneath the ground had gorged themselves on his fresh carcass. They would feast for days and William had no wish to witness it. It appeared he'd lingered for many hours, his body not so cold. Upon returning, he checked on Royce's mistreated horse, the one Vivienne was determined to save. The farrier worked on its hooves and the gelding had been bathed. For the moment, the horse was eating, but William was concerned it would not survive the next few weeks. The equine's ribs were showing and its hooves were hot; not a good sign. Regardless of how long it had, it would live its last days treated well and in relative comfort.

Jesu, he was exhausted. The long day of yesterday and this evening's late errand, he was getting too old for these sorts of activities. For the first time, he realized he looked forward walking away from court intrigue, to a quiet life with Vivienne. The thought of children this late in his life, raising his children alongside his grandchildren shed a brightness that had been missing in this existence. Hugh and Fulks had been raised in fear and insanity. Perhaps the children he had with Vivienne would bring this particular life in full circle.

"There you are." William looked up to see Vivienne standing at the top of the stairs. She was clad in a chaste nightgown, a yellow shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was braided and William's lone thought was of taking it down. "Surely, it did not take you over an hour to check on that poor horse."

"One of my younger knights is very knowledgeable about horses. I sought his advice," the man lied smoothly.

Vivienne tapped her foot impatiently. "Liar," she accused. "We were boring you in the solar and you sought to escape, leaving poor Hugh and Fulks to listen to us FitzGisborne ladies plan how we would decorate the room."

"Ah," William was quick to leap to her story and not missing that she referred to herself as a FitzGisborne. "You have caught me out!" He reached the top of the stairs and pulled her too him. To his relief, she did not shy away or recoil. Instead, she stepped into his arms and allowed herself to be petted. "Truth is, I care little of what you do with the room. It is yours; a place to entertain my daughter-in-laws and their children." He lifted her chin. "And ours."

The kiss was long and sweet. It was a caress that was designed to create a hunger for fleshly pursuits. For a moment, William wondered if she would allow him to take her to his bed that evening, but after some minutes, and much screaming from his loins, he decided he would prefer to wait until the manse was quiet and empty and not crawling with his progeny and their nosy wives. If he had his way, and he should have his way, they might decide to lay abed for days and that wouldn't happen with his family about.

He had had nightmares of Henriette bouncing into the middle of their bed. 'It was good, no? See, I tell you it was good.'

She was clinging to his outer garments when she stepped back. For a moment, she scowled, before dusting off the front. "Why is there dirt on your cloak?"

William finished what she started, kicking himself for not checking before he came in. "I must have bumped something in the barn." He attempted to redirect her. "Would you like some company before you go to bed? We will have little time to ourselves when we leave for Locksley in the morning and I would like to share some wine with you."

Again, Vivienne blushed and William had the distinct feeling that he would not have to wait long to bring her to his bed. "I had thought to ask if you would stay with me like you did last night."

Again, his member let him know in no uncertain terms, a repeat of the previous evening was not acceptable. It occurred to him to tell her no. This was testing him beyond his limits. This conflicting rumination was apparently obvious on his face, as it caused Vivienne to step back. "I am sorry. This is rude and selfish of me."

"No, it is not," he reassured her. Now, he saw the look of disbelief on her face.

This is not going well. I've lied to her enough.

"You are frightened of being alone."

It was obvious she was relieved he understood her feelings. "Yes!" She threw her hands up in ire. "I'm sorry! I was ready, now I'm not, but I am..." She turned to the left, making a small circle. "I'm so confused." She smacked her thighs and looked over her shoulder. "How is the horse? Does he have a name?"

William's cloak was becoming warm, but he feared if he removed it, she would see he had a problem and it would make her uneasy. "Why don't you," he leaned over and whispered into her ear, "go to your room and roust up the fire. I will change and bring wine and Porcpoilue." He nipped her earlobe and stifled his smile at her jump.

Vivienne gave him a mock glare as she pulled away, tucking her shawl about her. "Horrible name for that sweet creature," she sniffed, before turning her back and gliding to her room.

William watched her until she entered her room, before smiling to himself and heading towards his own. He yelled for his favored hound, knowing he would hear.

He hoped a few minutes in front of his fireplace, playing teen-aged games, would soothe his ache before he spent another long night with that woman in his arms, only desiring comfort.

~~~...~~~

Washed up, freshly released, Pig at his heel, and a bottle of his cousin's finest, along with two goblets in hand, William knocked at the door separating the two bed chambers. Eleanor allowed him entrance and a glare from the lord of the manor had her scurrying to bed. It wasn't long before the bottle was drained, Porcpoilue was curled up on the rug before the fire, and the two were ensconced on the bed, Vivienne under the quilt and William on top.

It was obvious the wine loosened Vivienne's tongue. She was rambling about various things; the gardens, her hope that the Locksley Gardens were salvageable, what would it take to grow the Auranja from seed. Her kitchen and herb garden at her Clun home was laid and fertilized. Spring rains would complete what was started. Same with the Gisborne garden. She'd spent some days the week before with the cook, laying out and planting the kitchen garden. William had promised an indoor garden, similar to Locksley's, but she wanted to plant something floral around the home. Jesu, the house looked like a man had built it, furnished it, and a woman had never touched the grounds, much less the home. She told him that, to his face, in front of Margaret, Eleanor, and several servants.

That much was true. Well, then she had a blank canvas in which to paint, he retorted. It frightened the servants to hear the two squabbling like children, none of them realizing the lord and lady enjoyed in the good-natured verbal sparring!

William wondered about his mother's home, so long neglected. Next week, he'd send a contingent of knights, to flush out anyone using the place the nefarious purposes, along with a few carpenters to do minor repairs and to make a list of the more extensive work to do. Sometime in the summer, he would take Vivienne there, to begin work and to allow her to work in that garden. He remembered his mother's family home, visiting it when he was young. The garden was large, but not what he knew his Vivienne could create. Alise spoiled him so many years ago, not only with the herbs for food and medicinal, but exotic flowers and trees needing warmer climes and getting it in the enclosed space. During his life as Roland, he'd enjoyed the garden with her, loved it and her.

He was quite certain their last child was conceived one night in the back of the garden, during a full moon.

"I dreamed of a wolf. While I was knocked out." Vivienne's voice cut through his wandering memories.

"Wot?"

Vivienne was tucked under his arm, her head on his shoulder. "I said, I dreamed of a wolf, while that man had me." She was becoming more and more relaxed. She lifted a single finger, wagging it in the air, a definite Genevieve trait. "The lady... nooooo... the angel," she corrected, "said his name was Gui." She smiled up at him, slightly cross-eyed. "Just like your ancestor."

William steeled his face. "An angel, you say. Did the she give you a name?"

Vivienne was no longer looking at him, but burrowing in for the night. "She said she was the Angel of Death. Douma. Her eyes kept changing colors. They made me dizzy."

It took everything in him to keep from clutching her to him. So close to Death herself. "I'm sure it was."

"Yes," Vivienne was yawning now, "yes, it was. She said she hadn't come for me and that was why she was leaving Gui. To protect me, she said. I told her he had been my dream friend for many years."

William looked down at the tiny woman in his embrace. "You've dreamed of that wolf for years?"

"Hmm hmm." her voice was drifting, harder to hear. "Ever since I can remember. He reminds me of you." William's eyebrows lifted at this admission. "He is dark with a grey streak over his ear, like yours. His nose is longer..."

"There is nothing wrong with my nose," William whispered.

"I didn't say there was!" The retort was gentle and soft. "I love your nose." Sigh. "I love you, too. God help me, I love you too."

He started to tell her the wolf was the Gisborne family emblem. It was on the Gisborne banner, his signet ring bore a wolf head. Her dream was proof that she was under his protection always.

But she was fast asleep.

~~~...~~~

Vivienne stood in the middle of the greenhouse, hands planted on both hips. All four FitzGisborne women – and yes, Eleanor and Vivienne considered themselves FitzGisborne women – stood with her in what would become known as the Locksley Greenhouse, taking in the size of the chore before them. All four were clothed in old smocks, prepared to get very dirty.

As Vivienne remembered, the greenhouse had not been tended to in several decades. Weeds were wild, as were ivy vines. William's lady feared much was choked out and wouldn't have survived. "First things first, we need to pull the weeds and the dead things." Someone in their wisdom, had built an enclosed hearth with a clay chimney in the middle of the enclosed area and Vivienne was eyeing it appreciatively. "If someone would build a fire," she nodded to Eleanor, "we can each take a corner and start clearing. When that's done, we can decide what we can use, what is seed and what can be divided between Gisborne and Harridston." She pointed at William and his sons, who stood in the doorway between the house proper and the greenhouse. "We will need those tables cleared off," she gestured to a length of wide shelf along one side. They were covered with trash, pots, and rusting garden implements.

William leaned against the doorpost, arms crossed over his chest. He nodded to his sons. "If you will gather the tools, we will take them to the blacksmith to be cleaned and sharpened." He turned to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The Lord of Gisborne stopped and rolled his eyes. She was going to have to learn who was the Lord of the Manor. He envisioned a pair of rosy cheeks – and not the ones she smiled with – over his lap. "We are going to the smithy and we will send back servants. That is what they are for."

"And what will you do after that?"

William's grin was wolfish. "We're going to go fishing!"

~~~...~~~

There were roses in the garden, much to Hugh's wife's delight. And Henriette's as well. A few plants were lost, but much was salvageable and there was seed, so much seed. There were seeds aplenty and William was pressed hard on everything he knew about the cultivating of the Auranja trees. He cleared his throat, hem-hawed about what little his remembered his father telling him when he was young, knowing full well, he was lying to his lady again. It could take a decade or more before the trees would reach their full height. The greenhouse would have to be built very high and the trees planted in the sunniest spot. Perhaps if they started seeds in a pot and left them here to grow for a year, she could watch where the the sun lingered the most...

And after a week of weeding and pruning and watering and separating and deciding what seeds would go where this week, it was decided that all was good for now and by late summer, all four estates (including Vivienne's little Clun estate) would be a sight to behold.

And the home of William FitzGisborne would no longer look as if a man had built it.

~~~...~~~

Vivienne spent the day after their return at her home in Clun, adding hearty herbs to her garden. A pale, climbing rose was planted next to the door and around the front corner of the home. She spent the following two days in William's kitchen garden and around the grounds.

She spent much time with Royce's neglected horse, whom she named Courageux. He seemed to be rallying, eating well. William and his horsemaster agreed the equine was elderly and wouldn't have many more seasons even if he did recover from years of neglect from his former master. They made sure Vivienne didn't hear their discussion.

de Glasson and his knights returned from William's dower home. Torksley, he admitted, was in disrepair. The glass was broken and the roof needed replaced, much of the furniture was broken down, good for nothing but kindling. The mattresses were in need of a good burning; rodents had taken up residence in pretty much everything.

And there was an additional surprise.

"My lord," a smile threatened to tug at the corner of William's lead knight's mouth. "Did your lady mother have a maiden sister?"

The question brought William to a halt. "She had aunt, not much older than herself. Surely, she passed years ago?" de Glasson was shaking his head. "WOT?"

"Alive, living in the manse, and quite senile!"

Most would back down from the fury of The FitzGisborne, but not de Glasson. "That cannot be! The woman... I'm sure she died..." his voice trailed off. "I would have sworn she died... I don't know!" He turned his back to his entourage, staring out the window. "Truth be told, when my parents died, I paid little attention to things. I had no siblings; Johanna was in a convent, I thought..." He turned back to the man. "Please tell me she's not burned the house down and is not giving succor to highwaymen! Are you quite sure it is Johanna and not some vagrant?"

de Glasson shrugged. "She has the look of your mother. There are a few servants there, all elderly and struggling together. Apparently, a few of the nearby crofters keep them fed, there was a cow and a few chickens in the yard. They have not been pestered by vandals." William closed his eyes in ire. He remembered his mother's home. Nothing big or grandiose, but a lovely manse, one he thought to give to his and Vivienne's second born. There had been a garden...

"Please tell me you did not leave them alone to fend for themselves?" That they had been doing so for years would haunt him for some time. How could he have neglected the home, the people in it for so long? How could have have not known they weren't there?

"I left several knights there. I have made arrangements to rotate them out every month." He reached into his leather riding coat and removed a roll of parchment. "I took the liberty of making a cursory list of things that need repaired." He handed it to William.

William unrolled it, not really looking at the list. Vivienne chose that moment to enter the gathering room. Seeing her from the corner of his eye, William never missed a beat. "My lady. It appears you have another garden to rescue."

~~~...~~~

Eventually, the house settled down and things became quiet.

Yet again, William found himself in the role of a suitor. Vivienne found gifts by her plate at the table. No expense was spared for her solar. Tapestries, velvets, silks, bright colors. Delicate bits and pieces of colored and stained glass, hung from the rafters in the solar and her bedroom.

William was sleeping in his own bed, aware that Vivienne was staring his door down, trying to come up with the courage to knock on his.

~~~...~~~

Spring was now in full force and with it, seasonal rains that drenched the countryside. Mud was everywhere and Vivienne's greatest worry was fear those preciously planted seeds in the gardens would wash away.

As was William's wont, after dinner on Saturday, what staff resided at the manse, were allowed to leave and spend time with family, loved ones, not to return until Monday morning. Due to consistent rain for some days, he urged all of his staff to leave Saturday morning, leaving the home silent with the exception of himself, Vivienne, and a few retainers, who were content to sit in the kitchen and play cards.

The solar, a room meant and created for the fairer sex, was becoming a retreat for William as well. It was a quiet place, where Vivienne spun yarn, wrote, sewed, repairing torn seams. William pretended to read, pretended to do many things, all while secretly watching Vivienne. It had been several days since they returned from what Vivienne jokingly referred to as le Grande Tour – their visit (cleaning of the gardens) of Locksley and Harridston. There were roses aplenty, herbs and flower seeds, lovingly arranged and bedded, no less than two dozen Auranja tree seeds planted in various pots at Locksley, to be moved and planted in glass gardens when built at Harridston and Gisborne. For much of the afternoon, Vivienne sat at his feet, writing on parchment on her lap desk, drawing pictures of flowers and seed, along with a name, preferred conditions of growth, planting, and harvest: an almanac, she called it. Eventually, she set it all aside and sighing loudly, rose from the floor and went to stand in front of one of the enclosed windows, peering at the rivulets of water, rolling down the panes. William sprawled back on the couch, plucking discordant notes from an old lute.

There was an... William couldn't put his finger on it. Damn Royce! Had the man picked someone else...

"That is no song I have heard of, my lord. Dare I ask if it is one or if you are just picking notes?"

He put the lute to the side and rose up, crossing the room to the place where Vivienne stood. "My mother insisted I learn when I was young. She feared my dark, brooding countenance. would frighten off young, nubile marriage prospects." Personal space had never been a concept to Sir Guy and William didn't seem to have any concept of it either. Stepping behind Vivienne and placing his hand gently over hers against the glass, he pressed his body close to hers. He dropped his nose into her hair, reveling in her scent. "What is on your mind, Vivienne?"

She was quiet for several moments before responding. "It is so quiet in this house. Emptier than it will ever be. And we are in the solar, doing nothing about it."

William's eyebrows weren't the only thing that rose at that admission. His lips reached her ear. "Are you saying you are willing?"

She spun at that, his nearness making that difficult. "Willing?" It was a hiss. "I've been willing since you first mentioned it at Hugh's wedding!" She dropped her eyes. "Don't tell anyone," she mumbled.

William's chuckles reverberated within his chest. "Ah, but I recall, you told me it 'twas a sin."

"Then I will be an eager sinner!"

At that, he took her by the hand, kissing her knuckles and led her from the room. "Then we should get on with this sinning business and make a celebration of it!"

There was no sound in the house, save Pig's panting as he came up the steps, drawn to the sound of his master's voice. With a gentle 'no', William sent him back down. "I don't want an audience this eve." He took in Vivienne's questioning look. "You don't want one either."

With another breath, the two were in his room. It took every ounce of self control William had to keep from ravishing her there in front of the door. "Sit on the bed, while I light a fire and pour us a goblet of wine." William used the few minutes to calm down, to steady himself. In a sense, he felt like an untried youth; he most certainly didn't want to fall on her, acting as one. He built and started the fire quickly, grabbing two goblets and a bottle of his cousin's best wine, all sitting on the mantle and chosen, waiting for this very occasion. He turned to see her at the side of the bed, staring at it. "Vivienne?"

"'Tis a big bed."

This evening it would be filled with joy and laughter. He could feel it, looked forward to it. "Aye, that it is."

"You know," she stroked the large, padded quilt, "I could get lost in this bed and you would not find me." She looked over her shoulder with a grin. "I can hear you now, calling for me. Vivienne. Where are you, Vivienne."

By now, he was standing next to her. "I would find you."

"Even in the dark?"

"Even," he handed her the single goblet, "in the dark. Take a drink. Don't gulp."

"I know how to drink wine, my lord," she whispered. She took the offered sip. "'Tis a good berry."

"Very." She tipped it again. "I share this cup with you, as I share my life. May none other drink from it, save you and I."

Vivienne's eyes became large. "William! That sounds like-"

"A wedding vow," he nodded. "It is. Later, if we are not too sated, I will take you to the kitchen and break bread with you and share the same vow." He took the cup from her and drank. "Someday, the minute I am able, I will marry you, in the church, as it should be and I will say these vows again. I promise you this." There was still some wine left in the bottom of the goblet, but he set it to the side. At that point, he reached for her.

There is such a thing as an innocent kiss. This was not one.

There is such a thing as a kiss of lust, full of power and wanton, selfish greed. This was not one.

Rather, it was searching, a quest of fantasy and forgiveness, a yearning that had laid buried for almost two centuries.

And when he knocked, she opened the door.

It didn't take long for the heat to rise in the room and it wasn't caused by the fire in the fireplace or the thunder of the approaching storm from outside. She grabbed him by his tunic, pulling him towards her and he followed, backing her against the bed.

His fingers plucked the ties at her throat, opening the neckline and exposing her shoulders. Before she could notice, his mouth trailed to her ear, his tongue tickling that tender, sweet spot beneath it, causing her to gasp, inhale sharply.

William wasn't aware that she had unlaced his tunic until her fingers graced the planes of his abdomen, leaving a heated trail up his torso. Within moments after her dress pooled around her feet, his own tunic went over his head, mating with hers on the floor. His mouth only left her skin long enough to pull the garment over and away. With a deliberateness reserved for those who have fought on a battlefield, he pressed her backwards, up and onto the bed. She crawled much like a crab, inelegantly, not that it mattered to him. As she braced herself to move further towards the middle, he grabbed her by the ankles, pulling her legs apart. "This," he hummed, "is wine."

And with that, he threw her legs over his shoulders and sank his mouth into her juncture. There were folds and exposed flesh and he explored every inch with his tongue, ensuring she was wet and ready. She was loud, noisy, and he was glad there was no one in the house, save a few knights who would not venture up the stairs unless he called. At first, she was shocked he would kiss her so intimately, but within moments, she was writhing beneath him, calling nonsense and winding her fingers through long, inky locks. At some point, he pulled her hands from his hair, interlacing their fingers as he attempted to hold her still.

Jesu, he'd missed the smell of her!

Vivienne was more willing than her descendant to give over, allow her lord his way. Her first orgasm was pulled from her with the force wretched with a power she had never experienced from her own hand. Her legs hooked themselves behind his head and she pulled on his fingers, where he forced her to stay put.

Her moans were drowned out by the pelting of the rain against the glass.

It was some moments before she lay still, panting from the exertion.

William took a deep breath, inhaling the musk of her, before lowering her legs and crept between them and over her.

"William?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper and his name crawled from her throat.

"Scoot back." She did so slowly, scrambling like a drunken sea spider. Aware of her need to recuperate and his own need to continue this, he willed his body to slow down, lest he attack her in a blind frenzy. His arm slid between her legs, allowing him to cup the cheek of her arse. She was wet, so wet, and in the back of his mind, he wondered if it were her juices or his.

He rolled her on her side, licking, nipping her from her hip to her breast, causing her to gasp and moan sharply. Eventually, he nudged her on her back, settling between her legs. Lightning illuminated the room, for a brief second, their entwined shadows thrown against the far wall, writhing in their own dance. Her breasts were no longer neglected or ignored; instead were now a feast and he clamped his heart at the sight of a fading, thin, white scar. As he rose over her body, Vivienne's knees clasped William around the waist, her feet locked about his thighs. Bracing himself on his elbows, he kissed her jawline, about her neck and ear. He positioned himself at her juncture, coating himself, preparing her for the only hurt he prayed he ever caused her. "Vivienne." His whisper was a raspy growl. "Vivienne, look at me."

She looked up, lightning reflected in her dark brown eyes. A small smile played about her lips. It occurred to him to apologize, grovel for what was to come, the diminishing of her reputation, the hurt he was about to cause her, but as he posed to embed himself where he belonged, he could only manage to say the three most important words in the world.

And then, he thrust.

Vivienne's eyes went wide. There was no pain, but instead, she was consumed with a burning, aching fullness, as her body shifted to accommodate him. Yet almost immediately, shock turned to fire and she pushed back.

The storm outside raged, thunder and lightning brightening the sky like day, that only lasted seconds.

For a time, there was a dance in that bed, a dance of sensual love and glistening perspiration, low murmurings disguised as moans. He wanted to be gentle, go slowly, but she wouldn't let him, instead demanding to be an equal partner. In time, the dance began to quicken, became frantic. The heart asked questions; the soul demanded answers. Again, William entwined his fingers in hers and held her hands pinned above her head, forcing Vivienne to cling to him with her legs.

And at the height of the storm, when the final surge was about to pass, Vivienne reached that pinnacle, crying out and bringing William with her.

~~~...~~~

For some time afterward, William lay between her legs, squashing her, more than likely, but she wasn't complaining and neither was he. He was enjoying the sound of her heart beating beneath his ear and the feel of her fingers, twinning around his hair. "I made you a promise," he whispered. Funny, he sounded out of breath and exhausted. "I will marry you. The minute Mellisande is gone, I will marry you."

"I know you will." It was quiet for a few moments, the occasional tweak and tug to his hair. "You fear Edward will take Harridston from Fulks?"

"Old Edward? Yes. He told me so. His son, Ned?" He shook his head best he could. "No. Especially now. However, it would be a cruelty to set her aside. She wouldn't understand."

It was quiet for some time, the sound of rain falling gently on the tiles of the home.

"What are you doing? "

"Thinking."

William raised his head. He moved to her side and pulled her to him, cocooning her in his arms. "About what?"

Vivienne reached up and entwined another inky curl around her finger. "A baby girl with these curls."

The black knight snorted at that. "My sons have sanctioned this union, but they've informed me we are to have girls. Nothing else. But I would plead with you to wait, if you can." It was quiet for a time, both lost in their own breathing. The storm outside had slowed, the rain now a gentle patter against the roof and the windows. Vivienne's breathing was slowing, becoming deeper and William's mind was wandering to a time long gone. "I just remembered..."

"Hmmm?"

"The first time I made love to you, it rained liked this."

"Oh?" Vivienne held her breath, more awake now than she had been, listening intently to the ramblings of the man she was wrapped around and tucked into.

"It's been... over a hundred and thirty years ago."

Vivienne was an intelligent woman and she had heard the stories of the FitzGisbornes; who they were and where they came from. Somewhere, in the hidden part of her soul, she realized that William Edward FitzGisborne wore many masks, kept many secrets. "The blood of Sir Guy runs strong in your veins," she offered.

William looked down at her, his eyes glowing eerily in the reflection of the fire. Despite his earlier exertions, his body responded to the woman next to him. He rolled over, settling again between her legs. "You have no idea how close you are." He began to kiss her earlobe, her neck.

Her mind was already moving on. "Oh! Do we get to do this again?"

"Do you wish to?"

Her nip to his inner arm was all the answer he needed.