The weeks passed and a routine became established. It started at bedtime and carried over into the new day. At first, the bedtime routine was difficult and discomfiting for Mary. She remembers that night well. Having never slept beside anyone before, much less a man, she felt edgy. Charles allowed her to change first before he joined her in the room. She wore one of her nicer nightgowns, although it's nothing to admire. Just white cloth with a bit of lace around the neck and sleeves. A very modest and proper choice befitting the daughter of the king.
When she disrobed, leaving her in nothing but her gown, she felt immensely tense. In order to calm her nerves, she moved to stand in front of the large window. From her vantage point, she could see for miles and miles, as well as the starry sky. Upon hearing the door open, her nervousness began to strain in her muscles. It must have shown in her shoulders, for that's where she carries the weight of the world.
Her husband came behind her and placed his hands there and began to massage the anxiety away. Then he drew her to him, as he had done earlier when they toured the estate property. It was the first time she had been truly hugged by anyone, in a long time. More than a hundred beautiful flowery words, that one firm hug did her in.
That first hug still makes her feel him. The smell of him still imprinted on her body. His strong arms wrapped around her in safety. A few tears may have eked out from her eyes and he may have wiped them away with his thumbs.
But now is a different story. Now they are in the most intimate of settings, practically laid bare. Seeing her body in undress, in a nightgown, is akin to seeing her worst flaws. She has no illusions about either her body or her flaws. That has long been stripped away. No. This is something more. It's vulnerability. Being vulnerable is a weakness.
To share herself is pure fear. She tried that once as a child and it got her a rundown castle in Ludlow. The hardships taught her to be strong. It also taught her lessons about people. People do not abandon those they love. This is her issue and greatest fear, being forsaken to a crummy, worn-out castle. And her greatest battle lies between what she knows in her head and what she feels in her heart.
Little by little her husband tries to break through her defenses. The first night, he hugged her and lay in bed. He even kept his nightshirt and breeches on, knowing how nervous she must have been. He didn't even try to get her to move close to him or look at him. They just lay there until they fell asleep.
As the week progressed, he eventually got her to turn and face him in the bed. That was when he began a nightly chat, just the two of them. It started with him telling her "When I was a young lad, I was out riding my boyhood horse. I enjoyed jumping. My father was a good jumper and I of course wanted to be just like him. One day I took my horse and made it race to the fence. The fence wasn't that high off the ground, just high enough. Anyway, I raced it all the way there and tried to jump. The horse made it over perfectly, but I landed on the ground. My mother came yelling out of the house. I think she thought I was dead. I wasn't, just dazed and bruised with a broken arm. And that My Lady, is the story of my first fall."
It eased her mind and made her chuckle. She could picture him being stubborn, wanting to jump. The next night he told her about the time he smashed his finger crawling out the window. He kept telling her story after story of his life, sharing himself with her. Speaking to her in ways no one has before. It was calling to her heart, urging her to listen. Until finally, she did.
He started to open his mouth to tell what she assumed was another story. However, she shut him up when she told her own story. She told him of when she was a little girl, but he didn't want to hear those tales. Instead, he asked her to "Tell me about your time at Ludlow Castle." What he really is asking is for her vulnerability: her truth, her tears, her fears, her trust.
She is on the edge of something unknown and unexpected. Her choice is to either be real and trust him, or keep him at arm's length. What she really wants, more than anything is to feel alive. She has a chance with this man to feel that. And she never realized how badly she had been treated until Charles came along and started treating her the way she always wanted, the way she should be treated.
Putting on her courage, she spoke. "It was difficult." Her eyes closed as the feelings rushed back to her. She felt him take her hand. Opening them again, she gazed into his blue eyes and said the saddest words he had ever heard. "I never felt more alone and forgotten. It broke my heart, but it did not break me. I have friends and acquaintances come and go. It made me realize that I was worthless, just another piece of property for the king. Once my value wore out I was hidden away in that castle. Just myself, for years. In the end, it taught me how to be strong alone."
He kissed her fingers. The irony of all the songs the bards sing about hit home to him at that moment. The fair princess in a tattered castle locked away and in need of saving. "I am no honorable knight, and if your father had not arranged our marriage, I would have never rescued you from that place. But as your husband, from now on I will fight for you and keep you safe from harm."
The way he pushed past her walls to sing her insecurities to sleep was rather poetic, like the romance poetry she reads. Without realizing it, tears ran down her face. He traced them with his fingers. She snuggled close to him and let him protect her dreams.
And that was when they started becoming comfortable with each other in the bedroom. It began with his sleep shirt. No longer did he wear it. He would enter the room as normal in his robe, but once he disrobed he would be shirtless. At first, this left her heat-faced. On any given day of the week, her husband is a work of art but shirtless is something other. To be honest she likes his hairy chest. It's manly and only serves to make him more handsome in her eyes.
When they lie in bed and have their nightly conversation, he took to being as close as he can be to her. Until finally his feet were used as tools to play with hers. All of this leaves her breathless and warm. It's like he's working his way towards the ultimate conclusion. Yes. She knows what that is. She has been prepared for it by Lady Salisbury, but being prepared for it is different from actually experiencing it. Not that she has, ever.
They have not consummated their marriage yet. He has made it clear in words that he wants to wait until she is ready to give herself to him in totality. Again he baffles the mind, as most men would not do such a thing. They would claim their right with no regard to the lady.
Not Charles Brandon. Not so her Duke. He spoils her with respect, honesty, and affection. For someone starved of it, she never knew how hungry her heart was until she tasted his hugs, gentle caresses, smoldering blue eyes, and tender kisses on the hand, cheek, and forehead. It makes her weak in the knees, like one of those silly swooning ladies of the court. Her heart beats faster every time he's near. He is an emotional disaster in her world, completely destroying everything she has so carefully built up around her heart. Everything is changed. She is changing.
And so life in Westhrope Hall bustled with amorous courtship and curious fascination. Lady Ashdown, along with the maids and servants, as well as Lady Dorothy knew The Lord and Lady of the manor are falling in love. It is such a beautiful thing to watch, the two of them growing closer.
Until one day, in late October, when a letter arrived. Before lunch, a royal rider appeared. One of the downstairs maids saw him on the horizon. She ran inside telling Lady Ashdown. Mary heard the ruckus and left her flower arranging for another time. Upon hearing of the royal rider her heart dropped to her feet. Nothing good is ever delivered by them, at least to her.
She wiped her hands on the apron she wore, then took it off. Smoothing the sapphire silk of her floral dress, and pulling the sleeves down, she walked head-on into the commotion. Lady Agnes told her "A royal rider is on the way, My Lady." She nodded and waited to receive the rider with the housekeeper while saying a prayer in her head.
The head butler, John Cranston, intercepted him and took him to Her Ladyship. "My Lady the rider comes with a message from The King to His Grace," John announced.
Mary directed the rider to her husband's study, where a letter was presented to him. Since no response was needed, the rider left. Knowing Charles would share with her what he could when he was ready, she went back to the flowers. It would take her mind off the matter, at least it did until he summoned her.
When she entered, he bid her come by holding out his hand. Another thing that's changed is her position. She now sits in his lap. This never happened until one day in September when she brought him a cup of afternoon tea. She delivered it onto his desk and he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her down. At first, she was stiff, but then the more it occurred her posture relaxed. Now it's commonplace but no less devoid of meaning. The gesture means a lot, to her.
Taking in his face, a hint of irritation is present. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed the side of his head. Her quietness put him to ease. He pressed his nose to her neck and inhaled, as he likes to do when he's unsteady.
"I received a letter from His Majesty," he commented. His head now reclined on the back of the chair, while his arms are full of his wife. One hand held hers, as the other rubbed her back.
Noting the dull tone of his voice, Mary asked "Is that a good thing or are we unhappy?"
He did not want to have to tell her this. "We are displeased. He is traveling to France and wants his court with him." He saw the look in her eyes, they lit up. Damn him. "He requested my presence but not yours." He felt her tense before he saw it on her face. Her father broke her heart again and made him be the one to do his dirty work. And he hates it.
Her voice came out flat and controlled. "When do you leave My Lord?"
"Don't do that," he stressed. She is retreating to her hideaway. "Don't lock me out and hide your emotions. If you are angry, be angry. If you are sad, be sad. But don't shut down on me. Do so with anyone else, but I beg you not me."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't know why I thought I would go. It's silly of me. He's let me down often enough. I should have expected nothing less from him."
"There, was that so hard? You told me the truth of your feelings." He placed a kiss on her temple. Then said, "You are not silly for wanting acknowledgment from your father. It's called hope and being human. I am sorry for him and humbly apologize for having to hurt you in that manner."
She shook her head. "You did not hurt me. He did." She laid her head on his shoulder and reclined into him.
"Yes, but I was the one who had to tell you. It hurt me to do so," he confessed. He relished the feel of his wife relaxed in his arms. They stayed that way for some time, just holding each other.
Her hand stroked over his stubble. "When do you leave?" She traced the outline of his lips with her finger. He kissed that finger and muttered something low. "I could not hear you, Charles."
"That was the point. I didn't want you to hear me. You would not like what I said." He turned his head to the side, so he wouldn't have to see her as he told her "Tomorrow." But he heard her huff, and that was all he needed to know how she felt. He feels the same.
Of course, her father would tell him at the last minute, just as he did to her with their wedding. There are a million things to do to get her husband ready. A list is forming in her head. She made to get up, but he held her still. "Don't get up yet. I want to hold you because I won't be able to after tomorrow. We will be gone for at least two months, maybe until after the new year."
That's it! "No, no, no," she blurted out. This is too much for her to take in.
Charles stared at her. This is very unlike her. She doesn't get so easily wound up over things. "What is it? Believe I know. I do not want to go."
"No! You don't understand. If you are gone for two months, at least, then you are going to miss Christmas. And perhaps even Epiphany. I was looking forward to celebrating it with you and now I will have to celebrate it alone, again." Her hands shook at the thought. It's like her father knows how to hurt her and delights in it.
Bloody hell. He did not think about that. Finding his courage he looked at her face. What he saw broke him. It made him do the one thing he has been longing to do since he first saw her. Taking her face in his hands, he locked his eyes on hers. Inch by inch he brought his lips upon her own.
Her lips were gentle and hesitant at first. And like everything else, he has to draw her in. But then something shifted. No longer was she ice to his fire, she burned as hot as he did. This is not surprising because this thing between them has been igniting ever since the day of their wedding in late August. And my God the blaze that formed between them fanned the flames of their desire.
She gasped against his mouth as his arms pulled her tighter against him. He sank into the kiss and poured himself into it. All of his care and longing he gave to her. He took her and put her on his desk, never breaking the kiss. Moving to stand between her legs, he wound a hand through her hair. The other held onto her back as he gently pushed her down. Then his hand took hers and twined their fingers above her head. This is it.
But then he thought about his wife. If he took her on his desk, knowing it would be her first time, then what does say about his regard for her? Plus he would be leaving the next day. He pulled back. The both of them were breathing heavily.
"Why did you stop? You said we could when I was ready. I am ready," she told him a bit breathless.
He kissed her forehead. "Yes but you deserve better than a romp on my desktop. You deserve tenderness and time, which I don't have."
Not believing her ears, she mentioned "When has that stopped you before?"
Of course, she's heard of his unsavory reputation. He smiled his roguish smile. The one ladies swoon over. "You are right Wife. But you are different. I respect you and want more than sex from you."
She sat up and stared at him, searching his face. Those words brought her to her knees. "More than sex?" He nodded and his face lacked any falsity. This time she reached out her hand and drew him to her. She placed a kiss on his forehead. He laid his head in her lap and she stroked his hair. "We need to get you packed," she whispered. They left his office a little more aware of the other. It felt good until the next morning when it did not.
The house arose early to see His Grace off. Mary threw a soft blue layered dress on. Charles had urged her to not get up and go back to sleep. Like she wouldn't want to see him off? Not happening. She dressed and hurried downstairs and met him in his study.
Standing beside him, he signed papers before his departure. Then he handed her a folder. "Inside are promissory notes for use of my funds, the house ledger, a guide for governance if anything were to arise, and an itinerary of the trip. I wrote it out last night before bed." He took her hands. "Look if anything happens here at home, go to Lady Ashdown first or Cranston. They will know what to do."
He stood up and caressed her arms. "While I'm away I don't want you to shut yourself up in this house. I want you to get out and do something. I'm not sure what ladies do with their time all day. Embroider? Go out and embroider with women. I don't know, but just get out. You are not in Ludlow anymore. You are free to visit people, just not your mother."
She snorted an unladylike snort. "Embroider... You would say that. I will try to get out, but I will miss you. You are my most treasured friend and more than a friend." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Never has leaving felt so hard before. Usually, he cannot wait to leave and go to court. But since she invaded his life with her fine eyes, adorable nose, beautiful conversation, sweet scent, beautiful heart, and gorgeous self, he finds he would rather be home. Taking her hand, he spoke with a bittersweet tone. "Walk me out."
They held hands all the way to the carriage. He said goodbye to everyone and kissed his wife's hands before he embraced her. Then he drew her away from the small crowd. "I am not abandoning you. I will come back and when I do we will finish what we didn't do yesterday. I will miss you and will be counting down the days until I see your pretty face again." The words are on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say them, those three words, but if he did then he would never leave. Instead, he embraced her and kissed her forehead. Then he climbed into the carriage.
The driver started to pull away, and her heart sunk. The tears are coming and she looked at her feet. But then something happened. She felt arms around her and smelled Charles's scent. Looking up, she saw his eyes staring into her own. "I could not leave until I did this," he told her before he kissed the sense out of her. And in front of their servants too, but neither cared.
When he came up for breath, he explained in a hushed voice "I needed something to hold on to during the lonely nights. Make no mistake, I will be longing for you and your company." He kissed her hands and this time he left for good.
She watched the carriage drive off and touched her lips. That's when she knew without a doubt she loved her husband.