Hello my lovelies! I hope you have all had a wonderful weekend. I am so happy to see all the new followers and readers and a few reviews. It's wonderful to know you are liking the story thus far. I am working on several other stories at once, so I haven't been able to visit Kirsa & Henry as oft as I'd like. Thanks to you all for keeping my muse interested. This one has a little more interesting areas. Stay tuned, for soon, some "LEMONaid shall be provided. Hugs!
Chapter 5 – Linen and Lace
"…so as you see, he's quite the gentleman," Kirsa ended the story of her liaisons with the king.
Quido had sat back watching and listening to his niece enthusiastically recall the events leading up to their eventual meeting. Luckily, all of his research and countless travels to the 15th century panned out. If he had sent her any earlier, she might have not been so fortunate. Bolingbroke would not have taken pity upon Kirsa. There's no telling what could have occurred. Although, he supposed that Kirsa would have found a way to charm the self-loathing nobleman.
"It's been an eventful time. How is your head?"
Kirsa contemplated her surroundings for a moment. It was awe-inspiring to say the least. The room was enormous. She had never seen anything like it. Well, she had seen the room; 500 years in the future. All of the furnishings looked as if the Ethan Allen Gallery had exploded within the walls of his room. The tapestries were exquisite and from all accounts they were centuries old.
"You're overwhelmed aren't you liebchen?"
She considered her uncle for a moment. "Well now that's the understatement of the year uncle."
He laughed in response.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Quido quickly stood and faced the door. It was Henry.
He appeared around the massive door. "May I enter?"
"Oh by all means," Kirsa quickly responded.
Henry entered with a smile to see that she was sitting up and looking recovered.
"Your pallor has returned. I am thankful to your uncle," he said as he looked at Quido.
"Your highness has been most gracious. We can no longer trespass on your hospitality your majesty. We will take our leave soon."
Henry was despondent, "For your niece's sake, I insist that you remain here. It would be most unfortunate should a relapse occur. I fear for her health my good man."
Quido smiled and bowed his head.
"Your majesty, you have been much too kind, and my uncle is correct, we have monopolized you for much too long. My illness appears to have subsided greatly from our arrival."
Quido knew full well that Henry wanted her to remain and by all accounts, he could see the longing in his eyes when he looked at her. He was getting on in years, but he could see when a man and woman were enamored of one another. He couldn't ignore his nieces glances and blushes at the gallant young lad.
As much as Kirsa wanted to return to her own time, she had to admit, she wished to visit the period and linger with him; Henry.
There was a silence in the room as Kirsa contemplated her quandary. Looking over at her uncle, she could see the twinkle in his eye. The old romantic scientist…he'd be certain to come up with something.
Kirsa looked at her uncle with hopeful eyes.
"Perhaps his majesty is correct my niece. We mustn't rush these fevers. If you did relapse, it may return with a vengeance and once again, you could be in danger of anemia. I would not have the capabilities to wipe away the scourge should this occur."
Both Kirsa and her uncle observed the hint of a smile and glimmer of hope that passed over Henry's charming face upon hearing Quido's admission.
"Very good. My home is your home and you are welcome as long as is needed."
Kirsa shifted uncomfortably in her gown. She hadn't thought about it earlier. She noticed her torn lavender bridesmaid dress draped over a chair nearby. When was she changed and who performed the act? The chemise she wore was made up of cotton batiste but softer to the touch. She'd only ever seen such lingerie in Bloomingdales. It had lace and tulle upon the sleeves and bodice; a peignoir set that she imagined wearing maybe upon her wedding night.
As she was lost in her thoughts, she noticed Henry speaking quietly to her uncle.
"…she may remain here under my care as you replenish your stores. The charge nurse will be at her disposal. Is that sufficient," she overheard the king ask her uncle.
"Perfectly your majesty. How may we ever thank you?"
Henry raised his hand and shook his head in response. "Not at all. I must apologize for causing you distress by not returning sooner."
Kirsa nearly laughed aloud for the apologies and gratuity would continue if she didn't intervene.
"Uncle, are you leaving?" Kirsa feigned alarm at being left alone.
"My dear niece," he said as he moved toward the bed, "I must be getting along and replenish my stores of herbs. I need to be certain that you are completely well before we begin our journey home." He said this and placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.
She detected the hint of a smirk upon his lips.
"What shall I do in your absence dear uncle?" She was well aware of her part in this. Even though it was taking a risk, she did wish to see some of the 15th century…yes…it wouldn't do her any harm either to spend more time with the magnanimous King. She was infatuated to say the least.
"Dearest Kirsa," the king interjected, "I can assure you that you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Meanwhile, you must recuperate fully. I forbid you to lift a finger while you are in my care. I am most insistent and you will find that I frequently am obliged to my wishes."
The shy grin that she shot at him actually caused him to blush. Henry felt the warmth spread across his features. She was charming and to his elation quite enchanting lying there in his bed. He would pay his gratitude to the charwoman of his chambers later for placing her in the lovely gown she was wearing. Although he was appreciative of the gown he found her in due to its revealing nature, it was not practical to adorn in the elements. Perhaps soon, he could join her in his bed? He could still feel the kiss he gave her upon his horse earlier that morning. It lingered as a fragrant flower of spring.
Sounds of the door opening roused him from his inappropriate thoughts. It was her uncle preparing to take a turn in the market.
"By your leave sire, I am to market. Is there anything my niece desires," he asked looking at Kirsa.
"No thank you uncle," she responded.
"Until the evening then," he said and bowed as he began to walk out the door.
Kirsa felt she needed to do a bit more acting. It was a foregone conclusion that maids should not be alone with a man, certainly not in his bedroom and definitely not in a king's bed.
She made to get up and out of bed but then remembered she was inappropriately dressed.
"There is no need for you to leave Kirsa."
"Forgive me Henry. I have put you out long enough. I should move to different quarters. As you can see, I am quite well. I shall rest easy in another location."
Henry moved to set beside her upon the bed. He could not stop himself. He needed to touch her, and placing his hand to her face, he began caressing her cheek with his thumb.
Every touch from him set her skin aflame. Before she knew what she was doing, Kirsa reached up and pressed his hand to her cheek. Never losing eye contact, the gesture was meant as a thank you, but it apparently made quite the impression upon Henry.
Cupping her face with both of his hands and without thinking, Henry leaned forward and was about to kiss her when he held back if for only the briefest of moments, "Forgive me Kirsa, I must taste your lips once more."
Kirsa was breathless as she spoke, "No apology is necessary your majesty."
This was almost unbearable nearness; she could count the pores on his skin and trace the bow-curve of his upper lip.
She saw this coming long before it arrived, a soft warm pressure that beat lightly over her at first, then deepened as it sought her out. But she was not there to be found; in fear that she wasn't as innocent as he believed her to be, she had darted out of reach, leaving behind a still mask. After a moment he broke away, sat back and studied her with an appraising frown.
"Will you allow me to teach you how to kiss properly?"
A startled, involuntary laugh escaped her. "Henry, we are in your bed."
"No one need know, and the instruction can be applied anywhere." He went on before she could protest. "This is purely for instruction, you understand. First, you meet my eyes."
"What makes you stare like that? Drop your lids a little. That's better; now I don't feel as if I am at court on trial. Laughing is forbidden." He lay two fingers over her mouth to stifle the helpless mirth bubbling up. "You will soon see, this is serious."
"Now, open your lips – no; not more than a half-inch between them. Yes - that ridge of white just beneath the upper lip - fetching. Like a flash of lace. Now, this is important, to further entice, your lips should be - if you will excuse the expression - wet. They have to be wet."
He moved in suddenly and…licked them.
It was so impulsive and odd, but so like him that she could only blink in response, her heart felt claustrophobic in its small cavity.
Henry leaned away again, judging the effect. "Precisely. To resist, I would have to be mad." He then lightly tapped her head to the proper angle. " - and close your eyes. Close your eyes. You've drawn me, my sweet Kirsa, you don't have to watch . . . ."
She did not watch; she felt. Sensations…that was all she knew as his mouth closed over her lips and kept going, prizing them further apart. His tongue slipped to the roof of her mouth and hooked behind her upper teeth, catching her, drawing her slowly. Then, achingly slow, he pulled back, and caught her lower lip gently between his teeth.
"Did that meet your expectations?" His voice, low and breathy, shivered in the small space between them. She didn't answer but continued the movement he had started, leaning toward him until his heart was beating just under her ear. The sound moved her, in spite of all she didn't know: full to overflowing. The life that pounded there was as vulnerable as any man's.
Only a few thin layers of linen lay between them and it appeared that he was as affected by the kiss as she. His right hand was sliding with a small sweet hesitation up her back.
A warning went off in her head: stop him. Any minute, Exeter could walk in or the charwoman. To stop him, and to test her own will, she said, "Henry, we musn't," and placed her hand to his chest.
Sighing, Henry leaned back and smiled. "I am sorry Kirsa. I do not know what has come over me except that you have pierced my lonely heart."
Taking her hand, he turns it palm side up and plants a tender kiss upon it. The gesture leaves a tingle of desire that she cannot shake.
After his declaration, Kirsa swallows the lump that has formed in her throat and gazes into his fathomless blue eyes. She now feels as if she has made a tragic mistake.
What have I done?