Hopelessly Devoted

Tristan took care to wash himself thoroughly, cleansing all dirt and other unmentionables from his body where they shouldn't be. His form was still lean and toned at the ripe age of forty-six. His chest hair was liberally dusted with gray, as was his beard, and he was seeing gray cropping up around his privates. But that did not indicate any lack of virility, for he was still very much so.

He was glad to be back at the fortress, even after the enjoyable outing with his son. He had been glad to see Raja's health had fared well during his absence. Her pallor bright, eyes clear, energy at the norm. Even after all these years, he never ceased to feel the swell of completeness she gave him; still did not know where or what he would be without her in his life. Tristan got out of the bath, padded himself dry, and donned the freshly laundered clothes Raja had laid out for him.

Raja was sitting in the antechamber of their quarters. The hearth was fully kindled, emitting warmth throughout the rather large room. A decorated rug of Egyptian design tempered the hardness of the stone flooring; tapestries of Raja's doing adorned the walls; there was one long couch and one short one; two cushioned armchairs were placed in front of the hearth with a small table which had a bowl of various fruits and a jug of ale in the center.

Raja smiled when Tristan entered the room. She sat regally on one of the chairs, shining and sharpening her sword, taking good care of it despite its rare use. She wore a light blue dress with sleeves that reached her knuckles. Silk of a darker blue embroidered the garment, her long hair hung free down her back in waves.

He returned her smile, bent down to kiss her on the cheek and run the tips of his fingers through her hair. Franklin the Mouse was idling on the back of the chair.

"Now you smell lovely," Raja said, and he 'hmmphed' good naturedly.

He sat down on the other armchair and submerged his bare feet in the hot water she had set out for him. He could feel the soothing ointments she had mixed in the water working already. It was a ritual she had doted on him since she had come to Britain twenty-eight years ago. Before he had a chance to fully settle in, Nutmeg the Puppy, yipped and jumped on his lap. One of his hind paws hit his groin and Tristan winced when the claws dug in. The puppy's paws rested on his chest, tongue trying to make contact with Tristan's face. Nutmeg and his brother, Pepper, were of a scraggly ilk; their fur an amalgamation of brown, black and white.

"Down, mutt," he censured. Tristan nudged the small dog off his lap and back on the floor. His small tail wagging and wiggling he padded back to the bed he shared with Pepper who was watching his brother's antics with a droll stare that expressed boredom.

"Probably hoping that you will take him out for more hunting lessons," Raja said, sheathing her sword and putting it aside carefully.

"They are coming along well."

Raja sniffed primly. "I take them in and you turn them into hunters."

Tristan chuckled. He leaned towards the table and poured himself a cup of ale that slid down his throat smoothly. He let himself relax while Raja untangled and combed his full head of hair. She told him he could take his feet out of the water so she could massage the cooling balm into his feet. When that was finished he led her to their bedroom to make love. Now, it was almost sundown, both were cuddled up together under the blankets, coming down from the high of their love making.

Raja was on her side, head cradled in the nook of his shoulder. Her soft breasts pressed against his side, one hand lay on his chest, lightly brushing his chest hair. He knew now might be a good time to tell her of Ardeth's encounter with Cassandra; before dinner.

"What is it, Trissy?" she asked, tipping her head up slightly to look at him with gently inquiring eyes.

He smirked wryly at her acuity, then went ahead and told her what Ardeth had said. She did not interrupt, but the expressions on her face shifted faintly now and then. She was silent for a moment or two after he finished.

"She just stripped her clothes off?" she asked, shocked. Raja moved aside and propped her head up on her fist. "Arthur and Guinevere would be appalled."

Tristan snorted.

"I suppose this all explains her restless behavior these past few days. Guinevere was just commenting on it." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Well, Ardeth handled it elegantly, nonetheless."

Tristan nodded in agreement. "We agreed not to say anything to her parents unless it continued."

Raja bit her bottom lip. "Very well. Perhaps this will be a passing fancy." The expression on her face said that she was not convinced of her words. Tristan cocked an eyebrow dubiously, and she chuckled.

"She thinks herself in love."

They both got out of bed and washed up for dinner. Tristan took a moment to take a full, appreciative glance at her body. Her breasts were still firm and high, her abdomen flat, thighs strong from horseback riding. Raja had yet to find a gray hair, but perhaps the gods were letting her stark-white streak of hair make up for the lack of them. Time had treated her facial features well. Only tiny wrinkles, barely noticeably, were etched at the corner of her eyes.

As they were heading out of their chambers, she said, "I suppose one should not underestimate a young girl in love."

TBC...