Blood Ties

Love Reincarnated

Part 6: Back in Time

Part 6:

England during the Reign of Henry VIII

It was another hot summer day; perfect time to be in the country and preparing for a jousting tournament. The great king was entertaining his French allies. The Royal grounds were flooded with people. Among them was the son of the great king. As always he was surrounded by beautiful women. And where the future king went so did his loyal company of friends

Charles DeLyon shook his head as Henry worked his famous charm. "Honestly, he's just insatiable."

"Aye, he is, like his father."

Charles glanced over at the young man beside him. "Your sister is going to be there this year, isn't she?"

The young man frowned at him. "What of it?"

"I've heard she is a great beauty. Like your mother in your younger days." Charles watched a group of women pass buy. He smiled as they glanced at him and giggled shyly. "We could use a new face here. I have seen all of these before."

"Charles!" Henry sauntered over; pushing his curls off his face. Charles lifted an arm in response to the hearty greeting. "What are you to conspiring about?"

Henry flopped lazily between the two men; he propped himself up on his elbows. His dark brown curls fell into his face; making is young face beautiful. He gave a regal toss of his head and his blue eyes flashed in the hot sunlight.

"We were discussing a new challenge for you, highness." Charles caught the glare from the young man and ignored him. "William has a sister I think you would enjoy."

Henry scoffed as he caught the eye of a blonde across from him. "Hardly a challenge. Women fall to me like leaves off a tree." Henry lost interest in the blonde and lay back on the grass; folding his hands across his chest; he sighed. He closed his eyes against the sunlight.

"William," Henry opened one eyed and stared at the young noble beside him, "Your mother is French, right?"

"Yes, Highness."

"Of noble birth?"

William nodded, "She is a cousin to the queen of France."

Henry mused for a moment, "So that makes your sister almost a princess, doesn't it?"

William had to fight to keep his face blank; he didn't like this conversation. "If you say so, Your Grace."

Henry smiled to himself," The French are here for a month long celebration are they not, Charles?"

"Indeed they are."

Henry stood up in a quick motion; Charles followed, he nudged William with his foot. The young man stood up but wasn't happy about it.

"Well, perhaps I will look her over. I have a month to decide if she is worthy of me." Henry strolled across the grass, his friends followed. Henry stopped suddenly and turned to William. He put a hand on the man's arm, looking into his eyes. "Even if I bed her, that doesn't mean you can joust any better." Henry laughed, Charles joined him and the two of them headed off toward the palace. William stood in the sunlight and dreaded the coming few weeks.

Days later he was at their family home; he was the only here aside from the servants. He stepped out and waved with a smile as the couch came to a stop. He stepped up to the coach, opening the small door and offering a hand. A slim pale hand touched his. William helped the woman down from the coach. Her peach silk gown billowed in the soft breeze; showing glimpses of the deeper pink gown underneath. The gold embroidery across the bodice and around the sleeves was accented by the jewelled necklace and rings she wore; they sparkled as the sun fell on her. Her long wild curls were held back from her face by a coronet of gold and pearls. The rest of her hair was left to catch in the wind. Her shoes were made of peach silk and sparkled with a gold bows at the top.

He led her into the house as the servants unloaded her things from the coach. William walked into the dining hall and held a chair for her while she settled. He sat once she was comfortable. He poured them both wine as a servant set a plate of bread, cheese and fruit, in front of her.

He sat back in the chair, watching his sister for a few minutes. He spoke in French, "How was your journey?"

"Long," She sipped at the wine and made a face, "This is truly English wine."

William chuckled, "You will grow accustomed to it."

"That is what I am afraid of." His sister did not hide the expression on her face, "I know why I am here, brother, there is no need to play along anymore."

William frowned, "I am not aware of anything. What have you heard, Jeanne?"

She ate quietly for a few minutes, keeping her eyes on the table, "Father sent for me because the King is bored." Her fingers closed on the bread, crushing it. "I am supposed to inspire him." The last words were whispered, her voice strangled with emotion.

William stood and crossed the floor to him. He knelt beside her chair; she wouldn't look at him. He gently touched her cheek and turned her face him. "Honestly, sister, I did not know any of this. I will speak to father."

She grabbed his hands; William was surprised at the strength in those slim hands. "Don't speak to him, William. Act like I told you nothing." She met eyes then; her dark grey ones were serious. "What else is a woman for but to serve the men in her life?"

William hated those words from her; but it was the bitter truth. "Then I must tell you something."

She sat quietly waiting for him to tell her.

"The Kings son, Henry, has heard of your coming. He will be watching you as well."

She sighed, "So be it."

After they had finished eating, William helped her up stairs and left her to settle in. He pretended not to hear her soft weeping as he shut the door to her room.

**

A few days later he was at the summer palace; he wore his finest silks. He walked a little taller than usual; with a more guarded expression. Beside him, his sister quietly walked. She wore a dark green silk gown with ivory and gold accents. Her emerald jewels flashed and glowed in the hot summer sun. Her dark hair stirred in the occasion breeze.

"I am melting in this heat." She muttered, she fanned herself with a delicate paper fan. Her other hand rested on her brother's arm. "The English sun is much different than the French."

He smiled as he looked down at her; his sister was small in height but had a voluptuous body. "We can rest for a while if you like?'

"Yes, please."

He guided them to a bench just off the main path; still visible to all who might want to see. He stood protectively as she sat fanning herself.

Around them people chatted, laughed and walked slowly in the summer heat. Those who passed by would stare at Jeanne; whispering as they went.

"Must they do that?" She asked softly

"You are new, sister. They will stare."

She sighed in resignation; keeping her gaze on the ground and trying to cool herself.

"William!"

Jeanne paused at the strong voice; she dared a glance upward and felt her heart stop in her chest. Such a man was surely a dream!

He strode toward them dressed in crimson and gold; the gold and rubies around his neck winked in the sunlight. He had wild curls of dark brown and eyes the color of the sky above them. He smiled at William and Jeanne knew her heart was lost. It took all her strength to look away from the man as he stepped up to them.

He grabbed her brother in a mighty hug and clapped him on the back. "You've been hiding yourself away these last days. I had feared you were dead."

"No, Your Grace, not dead." William held out a hand; Jeanne rose from the bench, taking his hand. She sank into a deep curtsy; bowing her head.

"This must be your sister, Jean-Rene." The young Henry was struck at her beauty. He had seen beautiful women all his life; but this one, she captivated him. She did not lift her eyes to meet his; which intrigued him. Most women were bold enough to do it. He had come to expect it from them. But she was nothing like he had been expecting.

He saw the line of her neck as the breeze tossed her curls aside. She had flawless skin; her shoulders were beautiful. He also caught a fleeting look at the swell of her breasts as she inhaled. The woman was perfect.

Charles saw the look on the young prince's face. He looked awe-struck.. "Your Grace?" He nudged Henry.

The prince shook him off and held out a hand. "My lady."

William struggled to keep is face blank as his sister took the prince's hand. She rose but kept her eyes down. Henry kept hold of her hand; which was not proper. No one was about to challenge him on it. The future king could do as he wanted.

Henry spoke in French. "Welcome to my country, your beauty rivals that of the summer around us." He lightly kissed her hand.

Jean-Rene couldn't breathe as he touched her; whispered to her. She wanted desperately to see his face; but couldn't look at him. It was far too bold to look into his eyes in their first meeting. The heat from his touch was burning her hand making her heart pound. She felt light headed again and it had nothing to with the sun.

Henry let go of her hand; she fought not to collapse. Instead she folded her hands in front of her and steadied her breathing.

"Your Grace, the tournament is about to begin; we should prepare." Charles urged.

Henry finally took his eyes off her; but it didn't last long. He took a few steps away but couldn't resist looking back. She stood with her brother; she looked at him and Henry was lost into those grey depths. He'd never seen such eyes; such a beautiful face. She was more than an angel; she had no words for what she was; he had never felt like this in his life.

He forced himself to keep walking away; it was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life.

**

Jean-Rene sat next to the other ladies in the Royal Box; she didn't know any of them and none of them spoke to her. She sat quietly; grateful for the shade. She watched with curiosity as a man stepped out into the jousting grounds. He held up his hands. The crowd settled.

"Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to the fist Summer Tournament."

She didn't listen to his words and wasn't very interested in the initial rounds of jousting. It seemed like a brutal sport in her opinion. She flinched whenever the lances banged into their targets. Such a ghastly thing; but she forced herself to sit and remain placid.

That was until she saw a fine black stallion trot onto the grounds. Sitting atop the giant warhorse was Henry. He wore a black doublet embroidered with gold; he wore black leggings and black boots. His dark curls blew across his handsome face. He carried a large lance and a smug expression.

Jean-Rene had t fight her reaction to him. But it took all her strength not to jump out of her seat and scream his name. Henry looked at her and she was so surprised she blushed before she lowered her eyes.

"My lady?"

She jumped at the nearness of his voice; looking up just enough to see his horse and the tops of his thighs. She dared a quick glance at his face and he caught it; flashing a devastating smile; she blushed harder.

"Allow me to be your champion?"

Jean-Rene heard the whispers around her; she couldn't refuse his request, it would have been intolerable insult. But still...if she allowed it she would been viewed as his...She was conflicted in her emotions. With a sigh of resignation she stood up and approached his horse.

Henry lowered the lance so she could tie her silk scarf around the end of it. As she did so the symbolism wasn't lost on her. The lance was merely an extension of his manhood-and by doing this, she was showing her favour to him.

He bowed his head to her; she did the same; and returned to her seat. Henry returned to his end of the field.

She heard the herald announce the contest before she looked up again. Henry was dressed in full armour. He looked gallant as he settled into the saddle and held the lance at the ready. The trumpets sounded; she was helpless and couldn't look away as Henry charged his opponent. She flinched on instinct at the noise; but couldn't stop watching. Henry tossed the broken lance to the ground and removed his helmet tossing it aside. He caught her eyes and kissed his fingers as he tossed out his arm and grinned at her.

Jean-Rene had to keep her reaction hidden as she turned her head away and bit her lip to keep from smiling.

**

Night fell on the palace; the party was still going strong despite the late hour. Jean-Rene had left the party hours ago; she sat quietly in her room. Absently she brushed her hair as candlelight fluttered in a breeze. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and sighed gently. She had her mother's beauty; and that was a terrible thing. She would much rather be plain than have men fall over them to be with her.

"You should not be so sad,"

Jean-Rene jumped; the brush fell from her hand clattering to the table. She saw Henry's reflection in the mirror. She turned quickly; he stood over her with a smile on his lips. His hair was loose around his face; the black doublet suited him as he reached for her. She forced herself to duck away and step back from him.

"Your Grace, what are you doing here?"

"It has been hours since I saw you; you left the banquet so soon after it started. I had to see you again. Henry moved slowly; taking in the beauty of her in the firelight.

"You act as if afraid of me." He whispered softly, "Are you really so shy?"

Her heart was racing as she put her back against the wall and watched him. Henry stalked up to her. Jean-Rene struggled for the words; but her mind was hazy and her thoughts slow to form. Henrys fingertips brushed her cheek and she shivered.

She bit her lip as he caressed her curls. "Your Grace, please."

Henry heard the panic in her tone; she was afraid. He had to go against his nature and step back from her. He turned away from her and took a few steps. He turned back; she was still pressed against the wall; her long, dark curls shielding her. The thin white gown she wore hid nothing from him and it drove him mad.

"I know you are not married; and you would not have favoured me if you did not desire me."

"Even if I was married, that would not have stopped you."

He couldn't stand to be away from her; Henry closed the distance and buried his hands in her curls. The warm silk of her hair soothed his need only slightly. He pressed his face into her hair and inhaled the heady scent of her lavender and roses. His body was on fire as he ached and burned; his soul drowned in her presence and he felt weak with desire.

"Your Grace gave me no choice," She whispered softly, "I could not refuse you."

Henry sucked in breath; his tongue was thick with her scent. He touched her face; turning her head so he could see into her eyes. The grey depths were calm; there was no fear in her eyes as she stared at him.

"Ask anything of me; anything. I am yours." He whispered; pressing his body against her; despite the fabric between them he felt her body; he was dizzy with it all.

Jean-Rene had no strength left to speak. Her body was trembling at the weight of him against her. She had never ached so badly in her life; her heart had never pounded so hard; her breath was trapped in her lungs as she breathed in the scent of him. Desire scorched through her blood as she fought not to kiss his lips and let him claim her. His hands on her face fuelled the blinding passion that surged through her body.

"Leave me be, that is all I ask." She whispered softly.

Henry was stunned at her words; no one had ever refused him. He watched her and knew than that he could never give her that.

"I can't do that." He whispered softly; his lips barely touched her cheek.

Jean-Rene was giddy with excitement; but hid it from him. "But that is all I want."

With a fierce cry; Henry tore himself away from her. He rubbed his arms as his skin tingled where he had touched her.

"I cannot stay away from you; it would drive me mad!"He was yelling and didn't care. "Is that what you want? To drive me mad!?"

He looked at her but it was too much. She met his eyes and he was at a loss; he wanted her, oh how he wanted her.

"I am sorry, Your Grace."

He sucked in a deep breath; some of the frenzy in him eased. He felt his calm slowly return to him.

"I will you Jean-Rene. I will kill any who tries before me."

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. He had such passion. No man had ever spoken with such zeal; such conviction. She wanted to throw herself at him; to tear the clothes off his body and surrender; but she fought it; she fought herself with all her strength.

She went to a curtsy, "So be it, Your Grace."

Henry stood watching her and everything in him screamed he take her. Had she been anyone else, he would have done it. But there was a look in her eyes; a gentle innocence that cooled his temper and gave him clarity to stop himself. His body didn't care about the clarity of mind; it was burning with need. He forced himself to turn away from her and leave the same way he'd come in.

Jean-Rene waited until the door was locked; she counted to ten before letting herself collapse to the ground. Her hands were shaking as she rubbed her arms. She stared at the spot he had stood only moments ago. She was stronger then she thought; much stronger. But it had left her drained; to deny him was to also deny herself. And that was something she had never struggled with before in her life. No man had awakened her desire before now. Resting her head on her crossed arms she rocked back and forth in an effort to forget the sensation of his body against hers; it didn't take long before she realized it was a lost cause; she would never forget Henry Fitzroy; not ever.