You will recall that I am altering history (NOT canon compliant) here. Again, I am not following Shakespeare's text nor am I going to remain accurate about the Lancastrian Kings legacy. This is purely self-indulgence. I am happy that you are enjoying this tale. My hope is that you will continue to follow and review. Thanks! Big Texas hugs to all! J
Chapter 6 – Late Night Liaisons
It would seem that sleep eludes those that are under stress and Kirsa was no exception to this common event. After Henry left her room to attend to matters of the state, she sat there in his bed, still flushed from his kisses, and agonizing over her predicament. When her uncle returned, she revealed bits of the scenario to him; but withheld some minor details.
To her astonishment, Quido was unmoved and seemingly mindful of all she relayed. She recalled what he told her: "What did you expect? Kirsa my darling, how long have you longed to meet this man? How many years of research? You anguished over minute details about this century, his character, all of the what if's? It was going to happen. He WILL fall for you. How could he not?"
"I'm your niece. You're biased."
"I may be biased, but you are a charming and intelligent young woman that deserves to be treated as a queen. You are what he needs. Not a child that he cannot respect. Now stop brooding. It is not good for you. I promise that tomorrow, you will be in much better spirits.
She tried to ask him more questions, but they were interrupted by the nurse. It was surreal. Here she is, lying in Henry Plantagenet's bed. A king of England! Five hundred years past! She should be frightened out of her mind, but her inquisitiveness always got the better of her. As a child, she would climb trees higher than anyone just to see if she could. In chemistry classes, she was the one that showed no fear at experiments that were volatile. Her brothers teased her relentlessly. She didn't cry in public, but she would go to her room and sob into her pillow at night. She was lonely. Guys were intimidated by her. They would say, "You're too smart."
Kirsa spent most of her time with her uncle in his lab or at the university lab. Other than that, she was in the library researching, always researching. The Plantagenets, England, Shakespeare, philosophy…and yes, time travel. It didn't leave much time for boyfriends or even friends. Her best friends Colleen and Heather certainly chided her, but they loved her. Heather was married to her first love, who Kirsa named "Farmer Tom", and they had their little girl Faye. Now Colleen and Magnus were married.
She smiled inwardly remembering the lovely wedding. They had such a great time and Colleen looked so beautiful. From day one, both Heather and Kirsa knew that Magnus was the one; a tall and handsome Swedish detective who literally swept Colleen off her feet. Heather catered the entire event. She didn't even get to taste the gorgeous cakes she baked. But in the midst of everything, Kirsa was looking forward to pairing up with the groomsman; an attractive man named Freddie. It wasn't meant to be for their time together was interrupted.
"Time," she whispered to the darkened room.
"I am sorry Kirsa. I do not know what has come over me except that you have pierced my lonely heart."
Henry was the last person on her mind once her eyes closed and she fell asleep.
ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo
Henry's POV:
I cannot deny the fact that this woman fascinates me. Not only has she stirred my senses, but she is brilliant; a multi-faceted gem that I desire to be intimately connected. I know that my actions will be frowned upon by the strict wishes of my family, but how can I ignore this lovely creature that sleeps within my chambers…slumbers upon my bed? Fragile yet keen, revealing wisdom beyond her years. She puzzles me so. Innocent she is, but interestingly enough…independent. I must learn more about her. Perhaps a ride to Eton…or would that be presumptuous? I do not wish to spy. However, if Exeter is correct in his assumptions, it could lead to disaster upon my throne.
No! I cannot believe someone as fair as she to be an infiltrator.
Could it be the Dauphin has sent her to Windsor? She does speak with a broken French tongue. Hence my examination of her language leads me to believe…I shall conquer this! What would my father say to this behavior? My men?
ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo
Henry walked silently down the drafty corridor. The wind was howling this evening. Stopping in front of his bed chambers, he placed his ear at the door. Listening, he heard only silence and the beating of his own heart. The heavy oak door would not allow him to hear within. As gently as he could, he released the latch and carefully slid the door open just enough to slip between the door itself and the jamb. Once he entered the room, he noticed the drop in temperature. It was no wonder, the window was open. She would for certain be unwell in the morning with the night air entering the chambers.
As quietly as he could, Henry made his way toward the window on the opposite side of the room, all the while looking over at the sleeping figure in his bed. He silently pulled the window closed immediately shutting out the wailing windstorm outside.
Turning back around, he stealthily moved to the bed, careful to avoid the parquet flooring he was aware would give him away. Halting directly beside the bed, he looked down upon his slumbering guest. Her cropped golden curls were splayed upon the pillow, a hand curled beside her face as if beckoning him, and lips slightly parted.
Careful not to rouse her, Henry seated himself quietly and gently upon the bed. He noticed one of the unruly golden locks lying across her eyes. Raising his hand, he gingerly brushed aside the ringlet causing her to stir slightly which caused him to smirk. Picking up a curl, he stroked it between his fingers. It was silky to the touch. He wished once again to bury his nose in it and smell the intoxicating scent of wildflowers and that hint of something he could not place.
"So easily I could have thee little cherry," he whispered almost inaudibly. It was as if he wanted her to awaken and catch him watching her sleep. His groin twitched at the thought of those shapely thighs wrapped around his waist and his mouth began to water at the sight of her voluptuous bosom rising and falling with each breath she took. He was confident that she could more than satisfy his basest carnal desires.
Her name was clearly a term of endearment, but at this juncture, Henry felt it was apropos. She, the virtuous maiden and he, the sword in need of a sheath.
Suddenly, Kirsa spoke, "Henry," it was a whisper.
She was calling him, but Henry observed that her eyes were still closed. He did not move. He could not move. Furthermore, he did not want to move. The hold she had over him was frightening. Never had any maiden stirred such an awakening within him.
Bending over her, he planted a soft kiss upon her forehead. He chose that particular spot as he was wary. If he had kissed those lips, he might not leave and instead would spend the rest of the evening claiming her innocence and ravaging her in his bed.
Kirsa stirred in her sleep and rolled onto her side. Henry stood and sighed while still watching her. "Sleep well dear one," he whispered and smiled. "Until the sun arises, I shall dream of you." And then turning, he quietly exited the room and returned to his temporary sleeping quarters.