When summer faded into fall, Mary missed her treasured friend. Though she was born in the bleak mid-winter, she is a summer girl at heart. But Autumn came in all its richness with the leaves dressed up in their finery of rich gold, Tudor red, sunny yellow, and leather brown. The old season brought forth apples. This new one turns them into delicious cider.
During the last few days of September Mary's favorite person paid them a visit. The Royal Rider came bearing a message from the King. She hates the Royal Riders. Anytime one of them arrives frustration follows close behind, and this time is no different. Once His Highness read the message he told her "Your father requests our presence at Hampton Court Palace. For one he wants to celebrate the twin's birthday and for another he wants us to be there to witness the birth of his heir." He passed the letter to her.
Her eyes scanned the royal document. "Of course he does. It just figures he wants us there for the birth of the babe. But it irritates me to have to celebrate William and Owen's second birthday at the palace. I wanted to have an informal gathering here like we did last year." She got up from her seat beside him on the sofa and started walking around the room, where she picked up a small round object.
Tossing it from hand to hand, she turned around and looked at her husband. She spoke again. "Another thing that bothers me is the fact Elizabeth had her second birthday earlier this month. Do you think he sent her anything? Do you think he wrote to acknowledge it? No. His Big Fat Royal Majesty did not! But he wants to celebrate his grandson's day of birth."
Charles chuckled at her choice of words. "I don't disagree with you. I'm not keen on going back to London any more than you are, but if we don't go there will be hell to pay. Of that I'm sure. How are you feeling in regards to the possible birth of a son, a brother?"
Putting the object down on the table where it was plucked up from, she went over to sit beside him again. Snuggling into him with her feet tucked under her, she declared "I could care less. I'll still be the Princess of Wales and Suffolk and you'll still be the Prince. The kid will just be named Duke of Cambridge or something like it. He'll be the King one day, while I'll still be ruling alongside you in our provinces. It changes nothing except for me never being Queen. Which is fine because who needs that headache, really?"
His eyebrow raised at her saying this. "I suppose so, but you aren't the least bit sad that you may never be Queen? Enacting policies for the whole country? Being replaced by a boy?"
Turning herself so she can sit crisscrossed, covering her legs up with her printed silk skirt, she decided to address his last question first. "Let's start with the being replaced by a boy part. I understand my value and worth in my father's eyes. But that is not where my value and worth come from. It also doesn't come from my gender, or what I can and cannot do. Just because I'm not perfect, I'm not a boy and cannot rule a country, does not make me any less worthy."
She picked at the black lace ribbon stitched onto the skirt. "As you know it's taken me a long time to realize that my value and worth come from my heart and my mind, and also God. I am fearfully and wonderfully made just how I am— with or without a crown. I have more love in my life than I have ever known and that has nothing to do with my father because he's not around me to show me, love. I'm grateful to be who I am and where I am right now in my life."
Then her eyes fixed on his. "It's funny because I think everyone expects me to base my life as if it's centered on one single moment- the moment this new child is born. And the thing about that is it's entirely too easy to get caught up in what people expect of you that you forget yourself and lose who you are. I know because that was me before you. But now I have a life, a life I'm proud of and I really, really try to live each day with unshakable joy for the things I've been given. Crown or no crown, princess or no princess, I'm just me— Mary Brandon, wife, mother, friend."
A smile of approval and acceptance came over his face. "I concur, Mary Brandon, wife, mother, friend to all. I think, in the three years we've been married, you've grown a lot as a person inside yourself. I like to think I have to. So I know, whatever happens, boy or girl, this new sibling of yours will not affect you. People will want to find you a broken mess, but they'll be surprised. It won't knock you off your throne, because you're the Queen of your life now."
Truer words were never spoken. It's only by the grace of God that she's strong enough to deal with her father and the possibility of a son being born. The only thing that annoys her is the fact he could care less about her, little Gillian, and her sister, Elizabeth. One day she hopes he can see who they are besides unwanted girls. But she keeps a smile on her face whenever she sees him, trying to remain hopeful.
So in the days following, with hope and grace, she helped the servants pack their trunks for London. And the day before the twin's birthday, the family set out with their retinue for Hampton Court Palace. Gillian rode with her parents while the twins and Elizabeth rode in the other carriage with Lady Agnes, Lady Paisley, and Gwyn.
At seven months old, Gillian has learned how to roll onto her tummy and crawl. She can even pull up as long as she's holding onto someone and best of all she has learned how to clap. She can crawl and clap up a storm. Her clapping is so infectious that Mary finds herself clapping along with her little girl. This in turn makes Gillian giggle.
And she's curious about everything too. Charles had her in his lap pointing out different things from the window. Their interested babe acts as if she understands what she's looking at with her big eyes full of wonder. It was then Mary began humming. She is in the process of knitting a blanket and so she hums while doing it. Stopping, she reached into her knitting basket and pulled out new yarn. Gillian did not like this at all, for she loves music, and made her displeasure known by turning around and crying in her mother's direction.
Knowing that particular cry means to keep singing or humming, her Mama began again. Gillian stopped and reached for her. The loving father passed her over and Mary gave him the knitting, which he wrapped up and put into the basket. She hummed as her baby girl laid her head on her shoulder. Before long her eyes had grown heavy and she dozed off to dreamland. Mary kissed her head and whispered, "Happy dreams Gillybean".
After placing her in the Moses basket, the two of them rode the rest of the way with her reading to him. Lately, he's been interested in the "rubbish" she reads. In fact at night before sleep, he hands her the latest novel she's interested in and asks her to read it aloud. She does but it makes her feel weird reading aloud The Enchanted Duke because for one it is romantic in nature. For another, she turns beet red every time the Duke, and would-be Duchess, make eyes at each other (among other things).
But still, she reads and he pokes fun when the story comes to a romantic part. Everything was going great until the portion that said "His strong body and fair face drew her to his manly side. Just the thought of him made Charlotte burn with odd currents flowing through her body."
He interrupted her reading by announcing "Codswallop" before he roared with laughter. Marking the page with the monogrammed leather bookmark he gave her, as one of many anniversary gifts, she looked up with narrowed eyes. Her voice demanded "What pray tell is codswallop? And who says that word anyway?"
His laughter subsided, briefly, to respond. "Wife, the author uses that word in the book you're reading. Plus the story is codswallop. It's nothing but bunk. I mean come on! She burned with odd currents because of his fair face and strong body. Who writes like that? I'll tell you who. Someone who writes dribble and rubbish for the noblewomen who lack passion in their own lives." The laughter returned in full force.
A gasp left her mouth. Oh, she's hot alright, and not because he's near her either. "Of all the nerve! You dare to mock my book. Do you know you don't have to have me read it to you if it's such a codswallop story? And I suppose you could write something better?"
Fixing her with his eyes, which did actually make her a different sort of hot, he let her know "I don't have to write or read anything. I live it every day. The thought of you makes me burn with a passion so intense like nothing I've felt before. I want you day and night and when we dance, even though I loathe it, I make love to you with our clothes on. Our kisses are foreplay as are the looks from our eyes." He scooted nearer to her.
She thought he was finished speaking, but he had only begun. "Tell me, Darling, right now looking into my eyes do you feel the way you feel reading that book or do you feel something more?" Opening her mouth to respond, he held a finger to her lips. "Don't answer just yet. You see I wager you feel something more because I'm here and I'm real. Desire speaks a language all its own. It whispers through delicate touches of the hand."
He ran his hand up her arm and his fingers danced over her the back of her neck. It brought about a shiver, but not from the cold. "It's also in soft sweet sighs and careful caresses." His eyes begged her to turn to look at him. She had turned away because the weight of his stare was staggering and profound. Swallowing thickly she put on her bravery and looked into his eyes again. His hands took her face and held it while caressing it with his thumbs.
Wanting him to kiss her, she may have made a little moan. The timbre of his voice made her shudder with anticipation. "My eyes see only you. My heart aches for you alone. I wake up desiring your lips on mine, your arms around my waist, our hands laced together." He paused and laced their fingers together. "Our eyes gazing into each other. I wake up every morning wanting you and that doesn't go away during the day. I just want you, Mary."
With a kiss on her forehead, which is not what she wants, he then told her "And you, I know what you want. Deep, deep down behind your prim and proper appearance, you want to be ravished. You want to be lovingly forced into pleasure unknown fully awakened by the love of a real man. I am that man. I'm real and I'm yours. I'm your husband and you're my wife. You're mine."
He leaned into her mouth, eyes still locked with hers. His mouth came millimeters away from hers but then he pulled back. "I think I just did a better job of giving you what you desire than that muck you read." Scooting over to his spot, he turned to look out the window with a secret smile on his face.
Her hands clenched the silky fabric of her dress as her chin jutted out in supreme annoyance. Angling herself in his direction, her voice upbraided him. "Are you joking me? You're just going to leave me hanging on the edge of my seat only to stop midway? You are a man tease with your sultry words, masculine figure, and handsome face."
When his face turned back to hers, she saw his blue eyes sparkle and dance. That was when she realized he has no intentions of leaving her frustrated. "So you admit to being hot and bothered, turned on even? Don't feign to be prim and proper when it's just us two. Take up your courage and admit it."
His eyes sought her out. "One of the things I've longed for these three years of marriage is for you to come undone around me and speak the truth. I want you to want me as much as I want you, and it's OK to feel that way, Mary. We're married. The way other married couples are, buttoned up and barely speaking, that's not us. We're young and in love. We can talk about these things." He laced their fingers together again.
Admittedly she is not the biggest risk-taker, but she supposes marrying him was the biggest one she's ever taken. Throughout their marriage, he's encouraged her to be brave with her words, her feelings, and her heart. This is no different, but "I've always been taught it's improper to speak of such things. However, I've been learning, these three years, that some of what is taught to girls is hogwash. Since it's just we two, and Gillian is too young to understand, you set fire to my body and make my spirit ablaze. I do want you as much as you want me, even during the day. When we're apart I miss and long for you."
He closed the gap and kissed her with the heat of a thousand suns. But she gently pushed him away and whispered into his ear "Others can have their ordinary love, boring and buttoned up. I want to burn in your fire, drown in your love, and be thoroughly ravished by you." Then she kissed him.
There was raw passionate emotion in the way his gentle fingers curled around the back of her neck. He didn't just take her breath away, he took her love too. Every breath he took smelled like roses, vanilla, and something sweet that he now knows is sparkling lychee. Every breath he took was of her and her alone, and it warmed him throughout.
Pulling back, breathing heavy, he rested his forehead on hers. With a low voice, he reminded her "We need to stop before we truly start something we can't finish. We're almost near London and we need to wake Gillian, so she won't be fussy on arrival. But tonight this here, what you and I started, will be finished. Until then just know I ache for you."
A thrill of excitement pulsed through her, at the thought of what the night will bring. With a nod, she took up his hand and kissed it. "I feel the same for you. I love you." She kissed his forehead in the same manner he does hers. They smiled at each other as their lips met in a small peck. Then Mary reached into the Moses basket and brought up the baby, who was not fussy at being wakened.
She smiled at her parents and even let her mother change her swaddling without complaint. The clean little girl was fed and given to her father, who mentioned "She looks more and more like you every day." This is funny because his wife thinks their daughter looks like him, but she kept that to herself.
When the carriage stopped at Hampton Court Palace, the three of them exited. Charles, who had a huge smile on his face, held his daughter with the left arm and his wife's hand with the other. Their retinue followed their lead. Through the palace, they walked saying hello to people on the way to their apartments. It was there they were greeted with a message from His Majesty inviting them to a family dinner consisting of himself, Edward Seymour, and Edward's wife Anne.
The Queen is in true confinement, as the King does not want her out and about this close to birth. "Poor woman," Mary said. The Prince agreed. He couldn't imagine not seeing his wife's face at dinner, even during confinement. But to each his own.
The afternoon was spent with Charles out riding with William Compton, who had rotated guard duties around for the Princess. Mary and Paisley sat and talked over tea, in a spacious sitting room, in the family's chambers. The two of them tried to discuss the twin's born day party the next day but seeing as neither have any idea as to what the King has planned, the discussion went nowhere. So they talked instead about Sir William, which Paisley's face spent half the time as red as her hair.
Once the Prince returned, he and his wife got ready for dinner. She had already bathed and changed into an informal tiered, floral printed, silk dress. Joan had pinned her hair into curls before her bath and instead of having the maid style it, she did so herself. As she was taking the pinned curls down, Charles entered and made a big show of getting ready.
Knowing they have unfinished business later, she knew he was doing this to get under her skin. In a swift move, he threw his towel onto the bed. His eyes never left hers as he did so. She swallowed hard and blushed just like Paisley had earlier. After he slowly put on his underclothes and pants, he walked around half-naked until he decided to clothe his top portion. Which kind of made Mary sad because his sculpted chest is a work of art.
Holding a white tunic in his hands, His Highness stalked over to her and leaned down. Her heartbeat sped up. Whispering in her ear, his voice spoke for her ears alone. "I want you. I want you to touch me, everywhere." Then he put the shirt on.
She didn't quite remember how to style her hair after that, but with shaky fingers she tried. When all of the pins had been taken down, she shook her hair out. It usually works when Joan does that, but for her it only made her hair seem like... well... there's no other way to put it... sex hair. Her hair looks like she's just had a nice romp in the sheets. This will not do.
Hearing snickering from across the room, her head turned. Her husband was sitting in a chair putting his leather boots on. She asked "Yes? Is something funny?"
While putting his last boot on, he answered her. "Your hair, My Love, looks like we just had a tumble in bed. And if I think so, everyone will." He stood up and went to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he massaged them a little. "I rather like it. It only serves to remind me of what we'll do later."
Taking a little of the rose hair oil, she dispersed it into her palms. "Of course, you would say so. There is no way I'm leaving this room with hair like this." She ran the oil over her hair and then looked back into the mirror. Perfect. Each strand is in place and it doesn't look like bedroom hair at all anymore. Putting her new leather headband in it, she was done.
But he wasn't. Sweeping her hair over her left shoulder, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her neck. Then he kissed her ear and the side of her head. "I want you so badly, right now" he let her know.
She stood up and he began backing her to the bed. Her knees grew weak at the thought. Their eyes locked into place on each other keeping their bodies still. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Abby, the palace room attendant, let them know the Royal Guard was here to escort them to dinner. They thanked her. As Mary brushed beside her husband, he whispered "Later." She nodded with her heart thumping in her throat. Off they went to dinner hand-in-hand.
Dinner was a boring affair with Edward Seymour and the King talking about matters of state. The only interesting part is Charles rubbing circles on her hand and thigh under the table. It only serves to speed her heart and make her heated. At one point her father asked, "Mary are you alright? You seem flushed."
Oh dear God! Then her husband turned to her and began checking her over. "His Majesty is correct. You do seem a little aglow. Has something happened to make you feel so? Do you need to lie down?" He wore a smirk on his face.
How dare he ask such an impertinent question, knowing full well he had a hand in this? How in Heaven's name is she to brush these questions off? He has left her a mess and in a peculiar situation. Luckily she thought of something. "I am fine Father, Husband." Although she said the word husband quite harsh, as a chastisement of sorts. "I think it was the shellfish that did it. I find that ever since I was pregnant with the twins I cannot eat them as I once had."
No one could question that as it was true. However, Edward's wife eyed her curiously. It's OK because she, herself, has eyed the woman's husband with contempt the whole dinner. She has not forgotten, nor will she ever, the scandal in the maze between himself and Princess Madeleine. Now she just wants to vomit.
Charles leaned down and whispered, "Nice save." His hand went higher on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. She let out a yelp, which made heads turn to her. Taking her fork, and narrowing her eyes at her husband again, she stabbed the broccoli and put it in her mouth so she wouldn't have to talk.
But talk did ensue regarding the twin's birthday celebration. His Majesty let them all know "I have ordered the Majestic Menagerie back for the occasion. They will be in the gardens along with various games set up. I think the boys will like it, don't you?"
Both Mary and Charles agreed that they would. She can see their faces light up at all the different animals. The conversation continued about the celebration and about going on a hunt the day after. The King let them all know the quail reserves are running low as the Queen is eating them night and day. Thinking about quail made the Prince want to vomit.
Seeing his face made Mary ask "Are you alright? Do you need to lie down?" She reached under the table and ran her hand up his thigh in a seductive manner and squeezed. He turned to her with narrowed eyes of his own.
When the dinner wound down, and the men went to look at the King's new hunting toy, Edward's wife Anne stood by the Princess's side. "Are you sure you're alright? I didn't see you take a bite of the scallops at all."
Oh dear Lord. She's been caught. "I've been feeling a little weak in the knees today with butterflies all in my stomach." There. That's truthful.
Anne agreed. "Yes. We're all anxious about the upcoming birth of the Queen. But the Royal Physician assures that everything should go well."
This made Mary want to laugh. The Queen's birth is the last thing on her mind. However, she made a good show of concern. Finally, the dinner ended and her husband escorted her back to their chambers. He pulled her along as he walked fast. The minute they entered he picked her up into his arms and deposited her on the bed.
"I have never wanted another woman as badly as I want you," he spoke in a low voice. His lips were one hers and he consumed her. No crevice was left untouched. Both of them were ravished and left a heap of trembling limbs. She was conquered and he was... well... he was just hers.