The afternoon had been full of anticipation. Both Mary and Charles knew they were dancing their hearts away towards the nightfall. After sitting in his office, they wandered the grounds. She showed him up close all the new changes to the Hall. Every so often she would find him looking at her.
The fire in his eyes seemed to shout what his lips feared to say. It's too intense to look long into. There's an intimacy there. But it made her consumed with a need for him. Being near him does that to her. She forced herself to look away. The touch of his hand sliding down her arm to hold hers dragged her back in.
They were inspecting the fountain when Charles took her by the hand and started running. They ran all the way to the tree line. It left her giddy and bright-eyed, but that was nothing compared to what her husband did next. Taking her behind a tree, he kissed her again. His heart danced in time with hers. It made a melody of pure energy, an attraction unlike any other. They cannot deny it. To deny it would be a lie.
When she pulled back, he groaned. "If you go on kissing me, I might catch fire," she told him.
A chuckle left his mouth, as he stood there bringing her close to him. The flowery sweet scent of her hair wrapped around him encapsulating his senses. His arms did likewise around her, trying to regain control of himself. She sighed, and a hush, a stillness formed in his heart.
In the quiet of the moment, his heart understood hers. The silence spoke of confidence and strength. It was good because there are no words for what's going on in his mind, much less his heart. But it drew them together. It connected them in peace and spoke in a hundred silent ways. Whispering love.
And when he thought of love he remembers the conversation he had with Tony. She deserves better than an old charmer of the flesh, a Duke beneath her station. Old insecurities crept up on him then. With a kiss on her forehead, he pulled back and they walked their way back to the house.
The rest of the afternoon he stayed shut up in his office. It was easy to use the excuse of going through correspondence and other important estate matters. What wasn't easy was keeping his mind off his wife. She has claimed him, body and soul. His mind is ever on her and his body hungers for her with a passion the likes of which he's never known before. He wants to put up the white flag of surrender, but still...
Bursting out of the study, Charles walked with a purpose. His doublet had long been lost. With only his white tunic, pants, and boots he strode past the servants, past his ward, and past the object of his ardent affection and desire. To the stables, he went and saddled his horse for a ride. Hopefully, it will put distance and clarity between reality and this aching need, this burning of love.
Riding over his grounds, over the hills, in the cold winter air only served to put physical distance between him and his wife. It did nothing to clear his mind, as it so usually does. This is more than matters of the court. This is a matter of the heart. And his heart wants his lady love, but his mind is at war with that. The fight between what he knew and what he felt is besieging the real love that could be his.
Her father, his father-in-law, is the King of England. Henry is his best friend and he loves his best friend. He's like a brother to him. But beyond his wildest imagination, he loves his best friend's daughter. He loves Mary. His own unequal blood can ruin her. He cannot seem to get over this. It's a block in his mind.
He rode his horse back to the stable, mind no clearer than it was before. He patted the horse down and headed to the house. A hand ran through his hair. To the master suite, he went, to change for dinner.
Nothing could have prepared him for when he entered. His wife stood before him in an alluring blue scrap of fabric, because that is what it is— a fragment of a piece of cloth. His eyes devoured her and a quiver came over him. If his breath was heavy after all of their kisses, it's nothing compared to now.
As she came closer, his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Her voice spoke and his defenses came down. "I hope you don't think this is too shameful. I wasn't sure about it," she told him.
Too shameful? That blue thing could cause a riot to break out in the church and all the nuns to faint. But the meaning behind it is not lost on him. To have his sweet, innocent, precious wife wear that for him makes his throat dry. Moving closer still to his love, he reached a trembling hand out to her. And seriously, when was the last time a woman made him tremble? Never, that's when.
He placed his hand on her shoulder, then slid it down her arm. He felt her tremble too. His eyes can't meet her own yet. They stared everywhere but at her face. Putting distance between them, he went to sit on the bed and ran a hand through his hair again, messing it up.
Letting out a breath, he didn't know he was holding, Charles spoke. "I need you to think about this. Be very sure I am what you want. Once we go down this road there's no going back." He brought his eyes to her face. Not liking what he saw, he turned his own away. "You have the blood of kings and queens running through your veins. I have the blood of the Master of the Horse in mine. You are destined for greatness born into royalty. I am a nobody given the title of Duke. You can still get an annulment." For the first time in years, and when he says years, he means childhood, tears welled up in his eyes.
Closing her own eyes, Mary caught herself. Fearing the worst, she asked, "Do you not love me either?" Her own tears started coming out. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. This always seems to happen. Never chosen. Always abandoned.
His head raised at her words. Looking at her, he felt like horse shit. He stood up and went to her. Taking her hands, he raised them to his mouth. "It's not about love. If it were only love, there would be no choice. This is about your future." He knelt humbly before her.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and caressed his hair. "But I have no future without you. Don't you see?" She shook her head and pulled away from him. There are many things in her heart she wants to say. If she doesn't say them now, then she never will.
"I may have royal blood but what does that matter? Once upon a time, I was a princess. Then my father threw me away in a dilapidated castle with next to nothing to live on. I had to survive with the strength of my mind and the help of my cousin. Pretty soon I will be declared a bastard." She caught a shuddering breath.
When she released it, she continued. "If none of that had happened I may be wed to a prince right now. But it did happen and I'm wed to you. And I'm better for it. I knew of you before I actually knew you for real. I know you had lovers and affairs. I know that. I know you were given the title of Duke because of my aunt. I know it all. But to me, you are my husband. You are my closest and truest friend. You are the healer of my heart. You took down my walls which I had SO carefully constructed, stone by stone."
She walked back over to him and pulled his head up to look at her. Her hands caressed his face. "With every piece you tore down, a light came in and so did love. I love you more than I ever thought possible. I love you for who you are and the Charles Brandon you allow me to see. Who you were, and where you come from, matter less than the man you are now— the beautiful caring soul that you've become. You made me have need of you. And I hate that because people have a way of leaving me behind. But you conquered me with my clothes on." Her gentle fingers wiped tears away from his eyes.
With a strangled voice, he asked "What do you want from me?"
"You. I just want you," she told him. Her voice sounded needy, shaky and full of truth.
Now he's the one being conquered by this tiny slip of a woman. But he has to know. "Why?"
"For all the reasons I told you. And because there is no falsity in you. You may be uncouth, and borderline vulgar at times, but you are not a liar. You do not want me for money, because I have none. You do not want my title, because I will no longer have that either. You see me and want me for me. And I love you for it. I don't need the crown. I just need my husband, the man I love, and that's you— Charles Brandon, The Duke of Suffolk." She wiped her own tears.
And then Charles made his decision, which wasn't a hard one to make. He had made it the day he wed her. He made it all the nights he spent lying in bed talking to her. He made it when he knew he first loved her. And he's making it now.
He arose and kissed his wife's full lips. No that's not quite right. He gave her his breath. No that's not it either, because she stole his breath away the minute he entered the room. Her words breathed new life into him. And he finally knew what it meant to kiss the one you love.
Pulling back he looked at her and ran a hand over her cheek. "When I first set my eyes on you, I recognized you. You were the woman who was going to bring me to my knees. You held my heart in your delicate tiny hands and you didn't even know it. I no longer believed in love at first sight or soul mates. I began to believe I would never meet the one who was right for me. I knew the second I met you there was something about you I needed." He kissed her forehead. "But I didn't need something. I just needed you." He placed her hands on his heart. "This is yours. Only yours."
She nodded, leaned in, and placed a kiss there. Before he made his next move, he confessed "You have my love. I am devoted to you and your interests." Then he picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he devoted his time to his beloved wife. For the first time in his life, Charles did not have sex. No. He made love. And with that, he burned the monarchy to the ground.
The next morning they lie in bed. When she talks she breathes life. Her excitement over the house and the gardens inspire him. Charles listened to her with bated breath. She told him about everything, but the thing he saw her true passion for is the people. That is what drew him in, seeing her talk out of her passion. He caught a glimpse of that same passion too, that ardent feeling of fire, that exhilaration igniting her soul. In the throws of their own passion, he beheld that just last night.
"They started coming to the house. Every week, every Wednesday. It's a Governance Day. The people air their grievances and pursuits. We talk about it. And sometimes they don't even need advice, they just need someone who will listen. Especially the women, they need a little more attention." She hasn't stopped telling him all about their time apart. Her mouth opened to speak about her ideas for the craft fair, but she was cut off by her husband's kiss.
He kissed her silent. Then pulled back and told her "I need your attention too." He rolled on top of her and gave her a smirk.
"Didn't you get enough attention last night?" she asked. Although the attention he was given is what she wants too. She never knew love could be this good.
In the middle of kissing her neck, he raised his head up and looked into her eyes. "No. There was not nearly enough attention given. I'm still needy." That is not true and he knows it. The attention given to him last night, by her, could help him survive in the wilderness for months. He lowered his head again to her graceful neck. But then a thought crossed his mind. "If I were to die today, I would die a happy man. A man in love." He brushed her hair off the side of her face. Her eyes drew him in and anchored him to her, letting her sail him away on this new adventure called love.
It feels amazing to be touched by the person who understands your thoughts, who sees your faults laid bare, and who loves your soul anyway. He is a man awake. A passionate desire burns freely for the woman he loves. An idea came to him.
He kissed her forehead. "You consume me." He kissed her cheeks. "My love will leave no crevice untouched." He kissed her neck. "Your love ravishes me entirely." He kissed his way down her body while telling her all sorts of sweet sentiments.
She loved it, but had to know "What are you doing?"
Staring into the blue depths of her eyes, his mischievous, roguish smile lit his face. "Shush. I'm writing poetry on your skin. You know, like that romantic rubbish you read."
A shocked gasp left her mouth and an indignant look crossed her face. He silenced her with another kiss. Then drew the sheet over their heads and hid them away for a while longer.
When the amorous, in love, couple did leave their room it was because of hunger of a different kind. There is something altogether agreeable and pleasant about being loved by the object of one's affection. It makes life more enjoyable and meaningful. Every look and touch, even the simple ones of the hand, means more.
Life in Westhrope Hall is different now. Like the house refreshed and renewed, so is the life inside it. It's alive and flourishing. Both Charles and Mary have remembered what it's like to feel alive, especially when their hearts skip a few beats.
The next couple of weeks allowed Charles to be brought in on his wife's daily activities. On his first Governance Day experience, he realized how woefully unprepared he was. He had no expectations. The plan in his mind was to just show up. In fact, he pretty much thought this would be as equally boring as listening to the king pass down rulings. He was wrong.
First, his wife is far more gorgeous a creature than the king ever could be. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved embroidered white lace dress. It fits her through the waist then flows out from there. The dress makes her look innocent, but now he knows what she is like in bed. This made him grin a smug look to himself.
Secondly, while the king has a habit of interrupting people and handing out orders on whims, his wife is the opposite. She is all kindness and strength of character. She treats people with respect and it's obvious the residents know this. He sat astonished to hear that some people traveled from the farthest part of the Duchy. And she was right, sometimes they come just to be heard; for her to listen. It blew him and his expectations away.
But the thing that really got him was seeing her. Not just seeing her. He REALLY saw her. And what he saw left him confounded for the hundredth time since she came into his life. Seeing her sitting there, poised with her eyes trained on the people and Lady Dot scribing, made him feel as if he were in the presence of a queen.
His breath caught in his throat. At that moment she ceased to be his wife. She was the daughter of Henry and Katherine, the monarchs of England. She is proof that you can walk through hell and still be both strong and soft.
"Your Grace, don't you agree," Mary commented to him.
Oh hell. He wasn't paying attention and has no clue what she was talking about. "Yes, of course, I agree," he stated. Hopefully, he agrees. It's possible he may not agree, but he can't do anything about it now.
Her eyes caught him and she gave him a look, reminiscent of the one her father gives when people aren't listening, that said I found you out. He grew hot under the doublet because he would hear about this later. He just knows it.
From then on he paid close attention to the happenings in his assembly room. They accepted more gifts today than he ever received on his own, ruling over the Duchy. And he was right after everyone left, she rounded on him and said "Next time please put your full attention on what's happening. Even though I admit some of the things the people say are mind-numbing and make me want to gouge my eyes out from boredom, I still give my respect by at least listening. It's the least we can do."
He uncrossed her arms and put them around him. "No. You can't gouge your eyes out. I won't allow it. Because then you couldn't see my handsome face." He posed for her, turning his head this way and that.
Rolling her eyes, she huffed out a breath. "You would say that."
After placing a kiss on her nose, he stated "But then I wouldn't be able to see your beautiful eyes. They sparkle when you get excited. Today I saw them sparkle almost as much as when you're with me. Almost."
"That's because I love you. Although I do enjoy this. I'm glad you're here with me. I think it shows them their Duke and Duchess are a united front." She really loves having him by her side. But then she saw that look in his eye. The one that makes her heated. He's going to say something crass. She just knows it.
Smirking, he started to suggest "I agree with you. We are united. You know how else we could be united—-"
Not letting him finish his thought, she kissed him. Slow and sweet. Then pulled back and began to walk away from him. Charles stood there for a moment in a daze, catching his breath. Realizing she was leaving, he rushed to follow, hot on her tail. And he couldn't help thinking what a gorgeous tail it is.
That afternoon the royal rider came. Mary saw him and loathed his existence. Dropping her book, she stepped to her husband's office. "A letter is coming for you, from the palace. I saw the rider out the window." They both exchanged similar glances with each other. Neither is excited about this.
Cranston delivered the letter and left the room. Charles read it and sighed. He handed it to his wife. She read it and then perched herself on his lap. "I just got you back and he's making you leave me again."
He smoothed his hand over her hair. "Yes, but at least I'll be in the country this time. And hopefully, I'll only be gone for a week or two." He has a feeling that his time at court will be life-changing for so many reasons. The main one being the fate of his wife's title.