Chapter Twelve

J oanna watched her husband with his daughter. It was a lovely June morning and they'd taken a blanket to the lawn beside the rose garden, along with bread and cheese and mint tea.

"Look, Joanna, she can sit up on her own," Philip exclaimed.

"Almost."

Eleanor babbled and flapped her little arms as she wobbled in a seated position. Her head looked too big for her body and her cheeks were flushed red, like little apples. She really was a very becoming infant to behold.

"You're so clever," Philip cooed as he spread his hands, ready to catch her. "Such a clever girl."

"Just like her parents." Joanna tore at a piece of bread. "And as an intelligent person, I cannot understand how it took so long for me to be informed of my sister Isabella's death in childbirth. It is not as though we live on the moon." She gestured to the sky, where a half moon hung dappled and white in the blue expanse.

"My love." Philip frowned. "Please do not upset yourself about that again, and have you not thought that perhaps that was God's will, so that you could grieve for John and then for Isabella separately?"

"But I can't let it go." She swallowed the lump that had suddenly grown in her throat. Poor Isabella, she'd been pushed into wedlock twice, and then into a motherhood that had taken her life. "I feel so far from home."

"This is your home." Philip gestured at the grand palace. "It has been months since we found out the dreadful news." He plucked a buttercup and handed it to Eleanor. "Here, smell this."

She giggled and swiped for it.

"And poor Miguel," Joanna went on. "A babe in arms and his mother dead. It is said he is quite sickly. Don't let her eat that, Philip."

"He is?" Philip nipped the flower between his fingers and held it away from baby Eleanor's mouth. "Who said he is sickly?"

"Belmonte told me." Joanna knew this would interest her husband. His petition to her father to claim the Iberian title as his own had been turned down on account of Miguel's arrival."

"How would Belmonte know the state of the child?"

Joanna shrugged and studied her husband. If something happened to her nephew, then she would be first in line to the throne of Castile and Aragon, making her, one day, Queen of Asturias. Queen of the new Kingdom of Spain.

"I will pray for the child's good health," Philip said, handing Eleanor a small sliver of apple. "That God have mercy on his young soul."

Eleanor reached for the piece of fruit and babbled something in her own little language.

"I have also been thinking," Philip said, setting his attention on Joanna. "It is time we had another child. A son this time."

"We have been trying these last months." Joanna bristled slightly. It was bothering her that she still hadn't fallen.

"Perhaps not trying hard enough." He reached across the blanket and set his hand on her ankle. "And as it is Sunday, a day of no meetings or debates, I suggest we continue our quest." His touch sneaked beneath the material of her gown and he ran his warm palm up her leg to her knee. He leaned closer, his eyes sparkling and his body heat radiating onto her.

"Philip." She glanced around, but she didn't shift away from the caress. "What if the courtiers see you doing that?"

"Do I look like I care?" He twitched his eyebrows and bit on his bottom lip, as though holding in a wicked grin—a grin she adored. It was one that made her feel feminine and needed and as though she were the only woman he had eyes for. "This is my home," he went on, his voice low and gravely, "and you are my wife. All of this belongs to me, including you, and I will do as I wish…exactly as I wish, most especially with you."

"How you tease me so." Her heart thumped in her chest as she touched his cheek. "With your sinful promises."

"Promises you know I can fulfill." He ran his hand up to her thigh, her gown bunching at his wrist.

"Philip." She caught his forearm.

"Wife of mine. I suggest you call for Beatriz to take care of Eleanor. Otherwise, I will be mounting you here on the lawn, as though we are a stallion and mare."

She laughed. "You're outrageous to say such a thing." She swept her lips over his, all of her worries evaporating. Her husband was distracting her in the way he was so very good at. "But I agree, we should not like to get a reputation for behaving like animals. We should take to our bedchamber."

"At once." He suddenly jumped up and held out his hand to her. His erection was evident behind his breeches. "Beatriz, where are you?" he called.

Joanna allowed him to pull her to standing, and by the time she'd straightened her gown, Beatriz was bustling over the grass toward them. "What can I do to serve, Your Grace?" She batted at a wasp that was making a bid for the picnic.

"Please, take care of Eleanor," Philip said, wrapping his arm around Joanna's waist. "My wife and I have important business to attend that simply cannot wait."

Beatriz's eyes dipped to his groin. "Oh." A flush of pink rose on her cheeks and she averted her attention. "I see…yes, of course, Your Grace, leave Eleanor with me."

Joanna giggled and gripped Philip's arm. "We should go," she whispered, "before you shock any more of our staff."

Quickly, they traversed the lawn and up the stone steps to a side door in the palace. From there, they used a back staircase, a quicker route and one used mainly by staff, to the bedchamber.

Philip was breathing fast, marching with intent and pulling her along. She got the feeling he'd march into battle the same way. It thrilled her that he wanted her so badly, that his need was great, and she would be the one to satisfy him.

"You drive me loco with longing," he said as they reached the bedchamber door and he pushed it open. "My body aches for yours."

"As does mine for you." She stepped inside the brightly lit room and the moment she had, he slammed the door and dragged her close.

She clung to him, a groan of need escaping her lips. His tongue found hers and he slid his hands to her buttocks and gripped them through the gown, hauling her to the length of his body.

Excitement winged through her, his urgency sparking a new, thrilling desire in her.

"Lord help me." He stooped to kiss her neck as he walked them backward, until her behind hit a walnut desk. "But I will release in my pants if I do not get inside you soon."

"So hurry." She gasped, sitting up on the desk. She dragged at her gown, exposing her knees, thighs, and finally, her cunny. She spread her legs in invitation.

He scrabbled with his breeches and released his cock. And then he was there, probing her entrance and kissing her again.

She clung to him as he curled his hips and drove in deep. She cried out in bliss. The fast, determined filling was a wonderful edgy sensation somewhere between pleasure and pain.

"You like that?" He grunted.

"Yes, more. Give me all you've got."

This spurred him on and he set up a wild rhythm, slamming in and half withdrawing over and over again. The table knocked up against the wall. A tray of empty wine goblets crashed to the floor and rattled as they rolled toward the window. His somewhat unholy praises to the Lord filled her ears.

"Oh, Philip…don't stop." She coiled her legs around his hips and clung to his shoulders. He was rubbing up against her nub almost violently and it felt amazing. The encroaching orgasm was the only thing that mattered in her life at that moment.

"Find your pleasure." He gasped. "My love…"

"I will… I… Oh…" She closed her eyes and squeezed his cock with her cunny, driving her pelvis in time with his so he hit that hot spot inside her at the perfect angle. "Oh…oh, yes…yes…"

She didn't care about the noise they were creating. All that mattered was finding bliss together. "Philip… I… Oh…" Her climax claimed her and she flung back her head and wailed through the powerful, pulsating ecstasy that slammed through her body.

"Ah, yes…I am… with you…" He filled her with his seed, crying out with each thrust.

She reached for his face and stared into his passion-filled eyes. Never in her life had she been so close, so in tune with another person. She thanked God and all the angels in heaven that Philip was her husband.

"My sweet Joanna, that was…wonderful." He found her mouth in a kiss and pulled her closer still.

She kissed him back, and while she caught her breath, she said a silent prayer that God would bless them with a son this time—a son and heir to make her husband happy. For if he were happy, she would be happy.