Chapter Twenty-Five

Two months later

"W e will make plans to leave for Spain when the weather cools," Philip said, pouring Joanna a goblet of wine as they sat on chairs placed in the shade of an oak tree on the far side of the lawn. "You will not enjoy a journey in the heat as much as you would not enjoy a journey in the snow. Autumn will suit us well."

She nodded.

He sighed. "Why are you so quiet today?" He plucked a grape from a bunch that sat in his hand, threw it into the air, and caught it in his mouth.

She shrugged and looked at the horizon. The sky was white blue, the August day blazing the scorched earth.

"Joanna, talk to me. I know you have not left the house and grounds for weeks, but I cannot abide this silent treatment."

"Then you know how I feel to be denied." She didn't take the wine he offered and instead folded her arms.

"I swear on the Holy Bible I have no idea what you are talking about." He sat on the chair beside hers and took a slug of his drink. "Honestly, I am dumbfounded by your mood of late."

"‘Dumbfounded by my mood of late'?"

"Yes. It is not becoming and most unsettling for myself and the children. You have been withdrawn and snappish."

"‘ Snappish' ?" She turned to him.

"Yes, I feel like you do not love me anymore." He raised his eyebrows in challenge.

"Of course I love you. I love you too much. That is why I am…"

"Substantiating rumors that you are unfit of mind."

"How dare you?" Her temper flared. "That is not kind, Philip. I am not loca ." She swirled her finger beside her temple. "And you know I am not."

"So tell me. There is clearly something wrong and if it isn't that you've fallen out of love with me or that you are mad, what is it?"

"Are you having affairs with the courtiers?" There, she'd said it.

"What? No." He slammed his drink down on the small, walnut table set between them. "Why would you say that?"

"You know why. Don't pretend that you don't."

"I have no idea why you think that." He held out his hands. "I promised to be faithful to you on our wedding day and I have been, no matter what your imagination thinks."

"And can you blame my imagination when you have not been in my bed since Mary's birth?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his knuckles, sighing. "You know why."

"I do not. All I know…" She stood and rammed her hands on her hips. The feelings of rejection were all-consuming, and jealousy had tormented her each night she spent alone. Imagining him with Carolyne and her courtier sluts tortured her until the dawn broke. "All I know is that you are not with me, and you are a man, a man with a ferocious appetite for coupling, so I cannot believe you have not satisfied your urges all of these months."

"Please, sit down." He glanced at the house in the distance. The windows glinted in the sunshine. "I beg you."

"Not until you tell me the truth."

"The truth?"

"Yes, who is she? Who has been satisfying you? Which woman at court?"

He sighed.

"Her name," Joanna demanded. " Now ."

"So you can cut off her hair?" He tipped his head and studied her. "You know they say you slashed Carolyne's cheeks too. Until blood covered her white dress, turning it completely scarlet."

"They do not!" She was aghast at the lie.

"They do." He shrugged. "Gossips love to embellish a story."

Joanna wanted to slap his face in frustration at this news but contained herself. "I learned that what I did was wrong."

"You did." An infuriating smile tipped his lips. "As did your rump."

Her eyes stung. "Philip. I can't bear it. I only want you and knowing you want others breaks my soul."

"I do not want others!" He stood and held out his right hand, palm up. "And this is your answer."

"My answer?" She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Your answer as to how I have…"

"I don't understand."

‘You demand to know who she is. Well, she is this…" He shook his hand at her, fingertips curled into his palm.

"Philip?"

"This." He paused. "Is how I've satisfied my ferocious appetite for coupling of late."

Her eyes widened and she swallowed thickly. "You mean…?" Was he saying what she thought he was?

He bit on his bottom lip as though holding in a grin. His hand still held forward.

"You mean, you…yourself…that you…?" The words wouldn't come out. It wasn't something she'd ever thought he'd do. Him. Her husband touching himself. Bringing himself pleasure.

"My hand is not the same as your wet cunny." He stepped close, so close, she could see the dots of his stubble over his top lip. "But it scratches the itch."

"When you…?" She could hardly believe they were talking this way in the broad light of day…that he was telling her such intimate secrets. Things he did alone, in the dead of night, in complete privacy. But oh, it was arousing to hear it said. So deliciously sinful, it stirred her immensely.

"When I take my cock in my hand and work it until my seed drips from the end, yes, it is pleasurable," he murmured, "but it doesn't give the same satisfaction as being with you. Being inside you."

"So be inside me again." She cupped his cheeks. "Please, I beg of you."

"You cannot fall with child again, not until we have been to Castile and claimed our rightful titles."

"So that is why…?"

"Yes, my love. That is why I haven't come to you, or brought you to my bedchamber. We have a duty to fulfill and you need to be fit and well to travel."

"But, Philip, it hurts me, physically hurts me, not to be with you." Her eyes prickled with tears. "I can't bear it."

"I am sorry, my love. I am so sorry." He frowned, his eyes darkening, as though it pained him too.

"But all you had to do was ask and I could have…" She held his hand between their faces. "I could have done it for you." She swallowed tightly, imagining the act and how thrilling it would be.

"And do you think I would have the willpower to not spread your legs and enter you when the pleasure reached boiling point?"

"You are a king, master of lands and peoples. I am sure you can master your own desires."

"I'm not sure if I could, not with you." He groaned softly and kissed her palm. "I have missed you, your sweet body, your taste. Please, never doubt that."

"So don't deny yourself for another moment. Take me."

"We have the bigger picture to think of. We must travel and you cannot with a babe in your belly. I fear it would be too much strain for both of you and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen."

"I understand, and I thank you for your concern." Her body was reacting to the closeness of his, her nipples tingling and need flooding her veins. Plus, the relief that he hadn't been unfaithful was like a weight had lifted from her. "But we need not deny ourselves entirely as we have been doing." She slipped her hand down his body, tracing that hard outline of his sternum and abdomen beneath his linen tunic. "For that is just foolish."

"Joanna," he murmured. "What are you doing?"

"What I should have been doing these last months." She cupped his groin and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his growing hardness.

"We are outdoors… The house is—"

"A long way off, Philip, which is perfect."

"But…the bedchamber."

"Do not speak of bedchambers when we own this land, this tree, the air we breathe." She swept her lips over his and squeezed him through his breeches. "You banished the courtiers, remember, claiming you wanted us to be alone for the afternoon."

"That is true." His voice was deep, husky, the way it always was when he was thinking of coupling. "My plan had been to cheer you from the melancholies brought on by grief."

"Grief, yes, but also abstinence." She untied his waistband and pushed at his pants. "Tell me, when you took your cock in hand, like this, did you think of me? Did you think of being naked, hot, aroused and inside me?"

A gasp caught in his throat. He was hard and solid, his flesh warm and smooth. "Joanna."

"Tell me," she whispered against his lips. "Did you think of me when you touched yourself?"

"Yes. Yes. Always." He slipped his arms around her waist. "Only you." He kissed her.

She melted against him and worked his cock in the space between their bodies. His breaths quickened, huffing into her mouth as his kisses became less controlled.

It was thrilling to be touching him this way and feeling his cock solidify as he drew closer to climax. His cock tip rubbed on her gown and her arm ached, but she kept on pleasuring him. Excited for the moment of release.

"Oh, dear Lord, I'm…I'm…"

"Find your satisfaction, dear husband."

He looked down at her hand. It was almost a blur, she was going so fast.

"Like this." Breathlessly, he took her other hand and tucked it between his thighs. "Hold them. Hold them tight."

His balls sat in her palm.

"Stroke them too."

She caressed them firmly.

"Oh…yes." He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Joanna had no intention of stopping. If only she'd been allowed to do this to him every night of her confinement, she'd have had no worries about him straying. She'd have known he was hers, and hers alone.

He moaned long and low, appearing to brace himself, as though standing was requiring too much concentration. His knees locked.

A slick of moisture seeped from his tip and onto her palm. She used it as lubrication as she upped the pace.

"Ah…yes." He said, clasping her shoulders and pressing his brow to hers. "I'm going to release my…seed…oh…"

She stared into his eyes as he filled his lungs with breath and was held hostage to pleasure. And then his cock was throbbing and her fingers coated in warm liquid.

On and on she went, working through his groans of bliss and storing every moment in her memory. Her sweet, passionate husband was at her mercy, vulnerable and owned by her and the ecstasy only she could give him.

His mouth hit down on hers in a wild, primitive kiss and he cupped her face, holding her to him. His tongue sought hers in a frenzied dance.

Clinging to him, she stilled but kept hold of his cock and his balls.

After a moment, he pulled back and stared into her face. "I hope we have a kerchief to hand."

She giggled, a bubble of emotion that burst up from her chest.

"Joanna?" He smiled.

"Don't you think we are brazen?" she asked. "And isn't it fun?"

He also laughed. "It is you who is brazen, for it is you who put your hand into my breeches, Joanna." He stepped back and she released him.

Her hand was glistening with his seed and a sticky stripe hung on her pale-blue gown. "It is my right to touch you," she said, raising her eyebrows. "For you are mine, as I am yours."

"That is true enough." He looked around with a frown and then plucked a square of linen from the side of the basket that contained their luncheon. "Here, let me…" He carefully wiped her gown and then her hand.

"I like the evidence of your pleasure," she said.

"And you would set tongues wagging if you were not thoroughly decent when we return." He glanced at the house and then frowned.

"What is it?" She followed his gaze.

"I believe someone is heading toward us on horseback. Look, they've just left the stable block and are coming this way instead of the main track to the road."

"So they are." She sat, feeling hot and self-satisfied. She had performed her wifely duties again, at last. And she had a feeling Philip would be coming to her for gratification, now she'd proven she was up for the job. She reached for her wine and took a sip. It was warm and sweet and filled her mouth like sugared fruit.

Philip righted his breeches then tucked the kerchief away. He, too, sat. He crossed his legs and let out a long exhale. "Who it could be?"

"Thank goodness he or she didn't appear a few moments ago. They'd have had quite the show."

"Joanna." He shook his head. "We need to be careful about what we do and say. You are a woman whose reputation must remain scrupulously intact."

Holding out her arms to the sides, she tipped her head and stared up at the branches of the oak tree. Shadows peppered their way through the leaves, which lifted in the gentle breeze. "Why? We are monarchs. We rule lands and seas, so we can do what we want. And if that includes acts of pleasure, then so be it."

Philip chuckled but then stopped abruptly and stood again. His arms hung at his sides and his shoulders tensed.

"Is it an envoy?" she asked, dropping her hands to her lap. "More bad news? Perhaps my father is dead too."

"You should not speak ill of him."

"Even though I know it would please you if he died?"

Philip said nothing.

"Do you know who it is?" she asked, standing and sensing something was amiss. "Is it not an envoy?"

"No." He paused. "It is not."

"So who is it?"

The figure atop the galloping horse wore a billowing, black cloak, hood up, and was stooped forward as he gained ground. Clearly, he was determined on reaching his destination. Them.

"I think…" Philip said. "It is my father approaching."