Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The new year of Our Lord, 1526, had begun. The snows of December showed no signs of abating as the cold January days passed. Nyssa had celebrated her third birthday on the last day of December. Though her temper showed no signs of easing, she had now completely accepted Blaze once more as her mother. Under her mother's tutelage her stitchery had improved tremendously, and the little girl was extremely proud of her accomplishment.

"I believe she will sew as well as Bliss and Blythe," chuckled Blaze to Tony one evening as they sat before the fire in her dayroom. "It is very embarrassing to have such a small child outstrip you."

He laughed back at her, and reaching out, took her hand in his. "She imitates you, you know," he told her. "She watches you very carefully, and then tries to mimic what you do. The way you stand, for instance, when you are giving the maids orders. I saw Nyssa set herself just like that the other day, and give orders to Polly."

"The little imp!" said Blaze, not knowing whether to be angry or whether to laugh.

"She admires you tremendously," Tony continued. "From the moment you returned home and had to upend her and paddle her bottom. I thought you were wrong at the time, but it turned out that you were right, Blaze."

"Children need boundaries, Tony. Without them they are apt to run wild and frightened. As long as children know what is expected of them, it is easier for them to behave. My mother raised us that way. When you took Nyssa from Ashby and brought her home, you let her run wild, and she grew afraid. Her temper was the result, and I will have to work long and hard to improve that, but how could you know? You are a man."

"A man who counts the days until the fifth of February," he said quietly. Then, raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it.

Startled, Blaze looked up at him, her eyes widening in her surprise. "Anthony . . ." Her voice caught.

"You do not hate me any longer, Blaze. I know it."

"But I do not love you, my lord."

"Did you love Henry Tudor?" he asked her.

"I was the king's whore," she said quietly, "but I am your wife. Even you know the difference."

"Yet you deny me that which you so freely gave the king," he answered her.

Blaze sighed deeply. She did not hate Anthony any longer, but she also did not know how she felt about him. She was no silly girl to grow indignant at his unspoken accusations. If she was to be happy with him, she would have to tell him the truth. "You are mistaken, Tony. I gave nothing freely to the king. Henry Tudor takes what he wants, be it a woman or an estate. My chaste behavior is what attracted his attention, and so he marked me for his own as a hunter marks a doe.

"He made it quite clear that on the first of May I would become his ladylove. He had me moved from my little chamber in the Marwood apartments to a large apartment set over his royal chambers. There was an inner staircase, hidden from public view, that allowed him to move back and forth in private between the two places. I wanted none of it. Neither the king, nor his spacious apartments, nor the supposed honor of being a royal mistress."

"Then why did you simply not leave the court and come home?" Tony asked her.

Blaze laughed. "It is so simple for men, is it not?" she gently mocked him. "I wanted to do just that, but how could I deny my king? I was no virgin with a maidenhead to protect. Besides, he threatened to take Nyssa away from me and give her custody and that of RiversEdge to Thomas Seymour, who had tried and failed in his seduction of me. I do not like the Seymours. They are very ambitious people, and I feared for both Nyssa and her estates. I had no powerful allies to protect me. As long as I obeyed the king's commands, Nyssa was safe and remained where she belonged."

Anthony was shocked, for he admired the king. Still, as he thought on it, it was not so surprising. Henry Tudor was a most ruthless man when he chose to be. "Blaze," he said, "I am so sorry! You were alone, and you were helpless. As Edmund's heir I should have been there to help you!"

"I ran from your kindness and help," she said truthfully, "but let me finish. Even so, I resisted the king as best I could, putting off the inevitable, hoping he would lose interest. On May Day, however, the king grew impatient for the night to come, and in early afternoon dragged me off in full sight of the court to his privy chamber. Then he forced me over a library table, and lifting my skirts, took me then and there. After that I did not resist him. What purpose would there have been in it? As long as I was his loving and gentle sweetheart, the king was content, and my child was safe from the Seymours.

"Strangely, I grew to like Hal over the months that I served his pleasures. He is a cruel man, yet there is great kindness in him. He is amusing and educated. He has great wit and even greater charm. Except for our first encounter, he was kind and thoughtful of me; but never, Anthony, never did I aspire to the position in which I found myself." Then she laughed softly, realizing the double entendre of her words. "I think," she amended, "that you know what it is I am trying to say to you, Tony. I did not seek to be the king's mistress, and offered a choice, I would have declined the honor."

He nodded. "I see now that I have been a fool," he admitted. "I believed that you had gone to court, and having attracted the king's attentions, were pleased with your place in life. How could I have been so blind? You would have never done such a thing, and yet I was so quick to think the worst when I arrived at court and learned your place in the king's life."

"I am not surprised," she answered him. "The morality of those who live at court is far different from those of us who live quietly by simpler values in our country homes. You had been at court, and you knew its values. You judged me by those values. Bliss was always remonstrating with me for not enjoying my place, for she was convinced that I should adore living atop the pinnacle of power. She never really understood my unhappiness with my situation. Still, I never used my place in the king's mercurial affections to gain either wealth or power for my family. There were many that called me the fool for it. I was known as The Quiet Mistress." She smiled.

"Why did you not use your position in Henry's life to benefit your family, Blaze?" He was curious, for her behavior was indeed a most unconventional one.

"I did not seek to be the king's mistress, Anthony, but to have used my body as a weapon once I was his mistress only to gain riches and power for my family seemed to me a dishonorable thing to do, even under those circumstances," Blaze told him.

"I have been a fool," he answered her, realizing now how he had wronged her.

"Perhaps we have both been foolish," she said.

"Do you think you can forgive me, Blaze, for believing that you had chosen to live the life you lived at court?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Tony. As I have said, you but judged me by the values of the court. You did not know me well enough to make any other judgment."

"But you were Edmund's wife," he protested, convinced of his error.

"I was Edmund's wife, but I was not Edmund. Edmund was like a brother to you, and you knew him as well as you knew yourself. You have never really known me. There is nothing to forgive. Let us put the past behind us, Anthony. It is not important. What is important is the here and the now."

"Begin anew, Blaze? Is that what you would have us do?" His look was a serious one.

"Aye, Tony. Begin anew. Do you think we might?" Her voice had grown wistful.

His heart was hammering wildly. Begin again! She was trying her very best to make her peace with him. To really settle all the anger and misunderstanding that had been between them. He loved her now more than he had ever loved her, and he longed to tell her so, yet he dared not. She was only half-right when she said he did not know her. He had fallen in love with her the moment he had seen her lovely face and form. He had watched her secretly when she had been Edmund's wife, and he had believed her to be perfect. How he had envied his uncle then!

When Edmund had died, Anthony had known that he could never allow Blaze to wed with anyone other than himself. He had planned a scenario in his mind in which he would court and win her after her mourning was over. Her flight to court and away from everything she had ever known and loved had confused him. When he learned of her place in the king's affections everything he had always believed about her had been destroyed, and he had been angered at what he believed was his own stupidity.

Now he was learning the real truth about Blaze. She was not the perfect woman, as he had once thought. A perfect woman was one that was made of marble, that had no warmth or feeling in her at all. There was no such thing as a perfect woman, any more than there was such a thing as a perfect man. Blaze was real! She was alive, and warm, and giving. Her heart was so great that she had even been able to forgive the king his treatment of her, and find something good within Henry's royal soul. God, how he had misjudged her, and now she was asking him to begin once more!

"Aye," he told her, "we can begin again, my angel!"

Then suddenly, to his great surprise, Blaze took his face between her two small hands and kissed him. His head reeled at the warm touch of her lips upon his, and he wanted to clasp her tightly within his arms, but dared he? Not yet. He would not have her believe that his interest in her was only in bedding her, for it was not.

"To seal the bargain between us," she said as she drew away, and her eyes smiled into his.

"Let me love you just a little more," he begged her, all his good intentions dissolving.

She was tempted. Dear heaven, she was tempted. He was really a kind and gentle man, so much like Edmund, and yet he was different. She needed to be loved again by a man who truly cared for her, but she did not think he did. He was simply a man, and men needed the pleasure of a woman's body in order to be happy. She had denied him that pleasure for two months, but she would stick to her original bargain with him. She shook her head. "We are too old, and too experienced in the arts of passion, my lord, to play at children's games. Let us know one another a little better before we embark upon a voyage of sensuality."

"What would you know of me, madam?" he demanded. "I would have you learn it quickly, for what I seek to know of you, you would deny me for your lack of knowledge about me," he teased her.

Blaze burst out laughing. "I have already learned one thing about you, my lord. You have a sharp wit."

"And you have been known to have a sharp tongue, madam," he quipped at her.

"I think the court lost a valuable courtier in you, Anthony Wyndham," she told him.

"I am no courtier, my angel. I am happiest living here in the country with you, Nyssa, and my mother. I long for the day when we shall have a houseful of children to love and to raise, even as your parents have. I seek no glory, nor honors, Blaze Wyndham. I seek your heart and the happiness we shall one day, God willing, make between us. Now, kiss me again, madam. I promise you that I shall restrain my baser nature, but only if you kiss me!"

Leaning toward him, she placed her mouth on his once more, but this time his arms enclosed her in a gentle embrace, drawing her across the settle upon which they were sitting. Gently he ran his tongue across her lips, and they parted themselves for him. Delicately he explored the honeyed grotto of her mouth, and she trembled ever so faintly as his tongue at last made contact with hers. Like two spears of fire their tongues danced and wove about each other, slowly stroking their passions.

I must stop this. The thought fuzzily entered her mind. I must! Yet she could not seem to muster the willpower that she needed to demand that he cease his kisses. They were such wonderful kisses, warm and tender, filling her veins with a voluptuous sweetness that seemed to throb throughout her whole being.

His fingers found the laces to her bodice, and he skillfully and quickly undid them, ignoring her sudden little cry of protest. "Nay, sweetheart, I am in control," he whispered to her. "Let me! Please, let me!"

A single hand cupped a soft breast, and Blaze felt herself close to tears. It had been so long since she had been touched with such gentleness. It was almost unbearable. Tenderly he fondled the perfumed globe, unable to take his eyes off the delicate ivory flesh with its tight coral tip that almost vibrated beneath his touch. He could feel his own vaunted control beginning to slip away, and then he saw the crystalline tears slipping from beneath her closed eyelids to pearl upon her cheeks.

"Oh, my angel," he said, "do not weep! You must not weep!" With supreme effort he restored her dress to its proper mode and cradled her in his arms. "Oh, Blaze, my adorable wife, do not weep. I have ceased, and I will not touch you again until you are ready."

Her quiet tears suddenly stopped, and opening her eyes, Blaze looked at him, saying, "Oh, Tony, do not be such a great fool! I weep because of the wonderful pleasure you have given me, not because you have violated my sensibilities!"

"What? Do you say that I made you happy then, my angel?"

"Aye, my lord, you did. Yet I worry now to wonder what sort of woman I am that enjoys the lovemaking of a stranger."

"Dammit, Blaze, I am not a stranger! I am your husband! We have known one another since you were fifteen, and you are now twenty! Would you know what kind of woman you are, my angel, then I shall tell you. You are a warm and a loving woman. Do you think that Edmund did not brag of your loving nature to me, for he did. He could not believe his good fortune, for though his first wife was sweet and she loved him, she was cold in the marriage bed. You were not, and he could not resist sharing that knowledge with me."

"I did not think that men spoke of such things except when discussing other women," she exclaimed.

"Do not women discuss the men with whom they make love, my angel?" and he laughed when she blushed.

Suddenly a friendship blossomed between them, a friendship that was more than evident to all who saw them together now. Though Blaze worried about her enjoyment of the more carnal side of their budding relationship, she worked hard to put it from her mind, for she was too busy discovering more and more that she liked about the man who was now her husband.

Dorothy Wyndham continued to light her candles in the family chapel, thanking the Blessed Mother to whom she had been fervently praying that Blaze and Anthony would settle their differences, that Blaze would learn to love her son, and that Tony would finally have the courage to tell his wife that he had always loved her, that his story of Edmund's dying request had been just that: a story. Her prayers seemed to be answered in part at least. In time, perhaps, all of her prayers would be answered.

Seeing that her sister and Anthony seemed to be happy ate like a canker in Delight Morgan's breast. She was forced to remain at RiversEdge because the heavy winter snows had made the roads virtually impassable. When Anthony's mother suggested that perhaps she would like to go across the river to visit with Blythe, Henriette had cried and begged that her dearest and only friend in the whole world not be sent away. Blaze had given in, for the two girls kept virtually to themselves, thereby giving her less trouble. Besides, she would not wish the sad and embittered Delight upon sweet Blythe now in the last months of her third pregnancy.

One day when the sun shone for the first time in many days, and the air was softly warm for winter, the two girls, arm in arm, strolled about the January barren gardens. Henriette had learned that Delight was still a virgin, albeit a curious virgin. Delight had shared with her the stories of her little sister Vanora's spyings from the stable lofts when she was just a wee girl. The way in which she related the tales told the wily Henriette that Delight's virginity was a frustration to her, and the French girl suspected she could use Delight's weakness to her own advantage.

"Did you ever watch the servants fucking from Vanora's loft?" Henriette asked innocently.

"Ohh, no," Delight said with a blush that turned her cheeks a fiery red.

"Would you like to see a man and woman doing that?" Mademoiselle Henriette tempted her friend. "Doing what you so very much want Tony to do with you?"

"Oh, no," whispered Delight. "I would be afraid to watch someone doing that. What if I got caught?"

"You'll never know just what to imagine or how delicious lovemaking really is unless you either see someone else do it or you do it yourself," taunted Henriette. "As I know you would save your virginity for Anthony alone, the only other alternative open to you is to watch the act. You would not get caught if you watched a friend, Delight. If you watched me!" Her little French face was alight with her mischief.

"You?" Delight was not certain if Henriette was serious or if she were making mock of her.

"Oui, chérie, me! Alas, I was raised at the French court, and a girl has little chance of keeping her virginity much past the age of twelve there. I have found that I have a taste for passion, chérie."

"But if you are not a virgin," gasped the shocked Delight, "will your bridegroom not be angry?"

"He will never know," laughed Henriette. "Men are rarely that discerning. All a girl need do is struggle and cry a lot on her wedding night, and then later when her bridegroom is asleep, smear a chicken's bladder of blood on the sheets and her thighs for her proud and unsuspecting husband to find the next morning! It is so simple, ma petite Delight. So tell me now, would you like to see me fuck?"

Delight's beautiful eyes were wide. "Who would you do it with?" she whispered.

Henriette giggled. "Come along," she said, "and while you are watching me, just imagine it is you with your beloved Tony!" Taking her companion by the hand again, the French girl led Delight to the stables.

For a moment Delight hesitated, but Henriette laughed again, and pulled her into the dim barns where the estate horses were stabled. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the pale light, but when it had, Delight could see no one at all in sight. Still, she followed after Henriette, who seemed to know her way about the place quite well. They moved to the rear of the buildings, and as they did, there suddenly appeared before them a tall young stableman.

"Bonjour, Johnny," murmured Henriette. "Are you feeling as randy as milord earl's stallion today? I hope so, chéri, for I am like a little mare in her first heat!"

"Then I won't disappoint you, mistress," replied the stableman. "Who's yer friend?"

" 'Tis the countess's sister, and she wants to watch us fuck, Johnny. You will not mind, chéri, will you?"

The stablehand smiled broadly, showing surprisingly even teeth. "Nay, mistress, I will not mind. Maybe she'd even like a little taste herself of Johnny's big pecker, eh?"

"Nay, chéri," cautioned Henriette. "My friend is not ready to give up her virtue yet. She will just watch us to see how it is done." They had reached the back of the stables, where a large empty stall filled with straw awaited them. "You can stand here in the doorway and watch us, Delight," said Henriette. "Be certain to warn us if anyone comes this way. We would not want anyone else to know our little secret, would we? Madame Blaze would be certain to send you home and away from your Tony if we were caught, and then he could not do to you what Johnny is going to do to me now."

Delight nodded, a shiver of fear running down her spine. In the back of her mind was the thought that Henriette was a very bad girl, and that neither of them should be here. Then the thought of Anthony Wyndham crossed her mind, and she focused her eyes on the couple in the stall box. The stableman had already unlaced and removed Henriette's bodice. He had pulled her chemise down to her waist so that her big breasts were bare. Now he groveled on his knees in the stall before her, his head moving swiftly and he nuzzled, sucked, licked, and kissed at the ample bosom before him. Henriette looked down on him scornfully, and then she looked up to smile conspiratorially at Delight. Soon the stableman's hands slipped beneath the girl's dress, and then he pulled her down into the straw upon her back, pushing her heavy skirts up and baring her to the waist. To Delight's surprise, Henriette had a triangle of dark curls between her legs. Kneeling between those outspread limbs, the stableman straightened himself back up, fumbled with his breeches, and suddenly Delight saw his organ—a great and long affair with a purplish head.

She gasped with shock, for she had never expected that a manhood could be that big. The stableman heard her startled sound, and turning about for just a moment, grinned, pleased at her. Delight blushed, to his vast amusement, but then Henriette was hissing, "Put it in me, you vain bastard! Put it in me!" With a shrug of apparent regret Johnny turned back to his partner and thrust himself into her body. Fiercely he jammed himself in and out of her body, and beneath him Henriette began to squirm and moan once more. Delight could not take her eyes off the spectacle before her. Her vision glazed and she saw, not Henriette and her brawny stableman, but herself and Anthony locked in passion's embrace.

Delight's legs grew wobbly, and she clung hard to the stall door to keep herself from falling. Her breathing grew harsh, and she moaned so softly that only she herself could actually distinguish the words. "Anthony! Oh, yes, my darling! Yes! Yes! Love me! Love me!" Only Henriette's little shriek of satisfaction brought Delight back to reality.

The French girl smiled, and rolling her lover off her, stretched languidly before getting up to readjust her clothing and dress herself. When she had finished, she stepped over her still-fallen lover, and linking her arm in Delight's, drew her back out from the dark stable, saying in the most conversational tone, "There, chérie, was that not exciting? Did you imagine yourself and your wonderful Tony the very same way?"

Delight flushed. "Aye," she admitted. "I did, Henriette."

The French girl laughed low. "The real act is ever so much better than the imaginary one, Delight, but in time you will find that out."

"When, Henriette?" demanded the overwrought girl. "When?"

"You must not be in too much of a hurry, chérie," replied Henriette. "In the spring we will make a plan, I promise you, dearest Delight. Until then you may watch me whenever I amuse myself with my Johnny. Have you ever let a man touch you, Delight? I will wager you have not, for you are an overly chaste little thing."

"Never," came the expected reply. "I save myself for Anthony."

"Next time you come to watch Johnny and me, let him play a little with your pretty titties, Delight. You will still be a virgin, but it will give you great pleasure. You can close your eyes and pretend that he is your Anthony," Henriette said.

"I do not know if I should," Delight murmured.

"We will speak about it again when the time comes," replied Henriette sweetly. "I am your best friend, and I want you to be happy, chérie."

February came, and Blaze knew that she could no longer deny her husband her bed. She was growing to like Tony more each day, but she did not feel for him what she had felt for Edmund. How could she? Still, her duty as the Countess of Langford was to supply an heir for the Wyndhams. She would couple with Tony if only for Edmund's sake. He had so desperately sought an heir. If she and Tony had a son, she would name him for her first husband. She knew that Anthony would not mind.

On the morning of the fifth of February she had Heartha wash her honey-colored hair and perfume it with her violet fragrance. If he remembered the date, he discreetly said nothing. After the evening meal was over Blaze arose from her place saying, "I will leave you now, my lord, for I wish a bath before retiring."

"I shall join you in an hour," he said without even looking at her.

So he had remembered! She had half-hoped that he wouldn't, and yet she had hoped that he would. He had been gently courting her over the last few weeks, and she had to admit, albeit guiltily, to enjoying his kisses. Arriving in her apartments, Blaze was surprised to find that her tub was already set up, and filled with steaming violet-scented water.

"You are amazing!" she praised Heartha.

"Humphhh," came the sharp reply. " 'Tis the fifth of February, is it not?" She undid Blaze's bodice and helped her from her skirts.

"Aye," said Blaze slowly as she stepped from her petticoats. "What has that got to do with my tub?"

"Is not tonight the night that you will finally allow your husband into your bed?" demanded Heartha.

Blaze laughed. There was simply no use denying anything to Heartha. Heartha knew all her secrets. "I had to be certain that I was not carrying the king's child," she explained to her tiring woman. "I want no bastards for Langford." She unrolled her stockings and allowed Heartha to pull them off.

"I understood that," said Heartha. "Now, get into that tub, m'lady, before you catch your death!"

Blaze climbed into the tub and sighed as the warm water eased away her busy day. "Let me be awhile," she said.

"Not tonight, m'lady," came the quick retort. "You'll not keep him waiting any longer than is necessary. Langford needs an heir!"

Blaze shook her head. It was obvious that she was going to get no rest from either the family or her servants until she had produced a son for the Wyndhams. She sat quietly while Heartha scrubbed her skin until it was glowing, and then ordered her from the great oak tub. When she had been dried thoroughly and dusted with fragrant powder, Heartha slipped the violet-colored silk nightrail she had originally chosen for Blaze's wedding night over her mistress's head.

"No nightcap!" she ordered in a tone so fierce that Blaze did not dare to question her. "Now, into the bed with you, m'lady! Nay, wait!"

"What is it, Heartha?" Blaze demanded, beginning to become annoyed.

"Take the gown off, m‘lady," and before Blaze might protest, the tiring woman pulled her arms up and drew the silk over her head. "There is no need in wasting this lovely gown, m'lady," she told her astounded mistress. "An eager man would only rip it off you, and Lord Tony loves you greatly. Into bed with you!"

Shaking her head, Blaze climbed into her bed. She did not know whether to laugh or to scold her tiring woman for her presumption. Having draped a lacy little shawl about her lady's shoulders, Heartha bobbed a curtsy, and was gone before Blaze could make up her mind in the matter. She heard the footmen removing the tub from her dressing room, and then all was quiet. A chamberstick burned on either side of the bed, and the room was delightfully warm with the fine fire that burned in the fireplace. She was nervous, and yet she was not. After all, she was no virgin, and yet she could not help but wonder if they would please each other.

Lord Tony loves you greatly. Dear Heartha, who still believed in the fairy tales she had once told her children, and was now telling her grandchildren. Tony loved RiversEdge and the Langford earldom even as she did, and it was for this that they would produce children. Tony had married her because he had promised Edmund, but how could dear Heartha know this? What did it matter? she thought. This was her life, and it was not an unhappy one.

She dozed lightly, awakening to the sound of the door that connected his bedchamber with hers as it swung open. God's foot! How long had it been since she had heard that sound? She opened her eyes to see him coming toward the bed. He was stark naked, and his body was magnificent.

"Stand a moment in the firelight, my lord," she asked him softly, and when he did, she said, "You are so beautiful, Tony! Never have I seen such a beautiful body upon a man." Even in the dimness of the chamber she could see the light flush that stained his cheeks, and Blaze bit her lip to keep from laughter.

"Madam, you embarrass me," he said softly.

"Why? Because I praise your body?" She threw back the coverlet and stepped from the bed. Proudly she walked toward him. "You may praise mine if it pleases you, my lord."

They stood staring at one another, she with a faint smile upon her face. He was very straight, she thought, his broad shoulders and wide chest very much like Edmund's. At first he could not take his eyes from her beautiful globe-shaped breasts. How many times had he caressed them over the last few weeks, and yet seeing them now, perfect adornments to her exquisite nudity, was almost more than he could bear. He felt a tightening in the region of his hard, flat belly. She felt an answering ripple of excitement in the pit of her softly rounded belly. Her pretty little Venus mons was properly denuded and plumply pink, but from his groin a mass of tight dark curls sprang. His manhood was beginning to arouse itself, the sight of her loveliness being a heady one.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known," he said simply.

"Dare I ask just how many it is that you have known, my lord?" she teased him.

"You may not, Blaze Wyndham. The answer would surely only serve to increase your natural feminine vanity."

She laughed. The sound was a sensual, throaty one that set his heart to racing and his pulses pounding. Reaching out, he slipped an arm about her slender waist and drew her to him. Blaze looked up into his face, and was shocked by the love she saw in it. No! No! she thought. This cannot be! He cannot love me! He cannot! I do not love him! I do not! Irrational with her sudden panic, she placed the palms of her hands flat upon his chest to push him away.

Anthony immediately saw the change that swept over her features. "What is it, my angel?" he asked her gently.

"Do you love me?" she asked of him brokenly.

"I have always loved you, Blaze," he answered her honestly.

"No, no, you cannot love me," she began to sob. "Oh, Tony, it is not right that you love me. I do not love you, and I do not know if I ever can. When Edmund died, my heart was buried with him!" she wept against his hard shoulder.

"Perhaps that is so," he agreed, "or perhaps you just believe it to be so, Blaze. Nevertheless, I cannot help loving you. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, even knowing that you were to be my uncle's wife, but in my heart I ached for your love. Why do you think I could find no woman to suit me when I went to court? Why do you think I could not bring myself to arrange a match with your sister Delight?

"There was never any hope of your being my wife. Yet I knew that I could never be happy with another woman. I vowed to myself that I would never wed. I would leave Riverside and all I possessed to Nyssa, making her a great heiress. It was the only way in which I might offer my love without offending either you or my uncle. Then Edmund was killed."

"He must have known of your feelings for me," Blaze said low. "How like him to ask you to wed with me to protect me and Nyssa, yet at the same time manage to give you your happiness. In his last moments he thought of us all."

He had to tell her the whole truth. He would have no more lies between them. "Edmund died instantly, Blaze. He did not have time to ask me anything, let alone exact a deathbed promise from me."

"But you told the king . . ." she began.

"I would have sworn it before God himself to gain you for my wife!" Anthony declared.

The fierce reality of what he was saying burst inside her brain, and she cried out, "Oh, villain! Oh, brute, to do this to me! To love me so greatly when I cannot love you. To tell me so! Ohh, I shall never forgive you, Tony! Never!" and she burst into racking sobs of despair.

"Do not weep, Blaze," he begged her. "Do not weep, my darling wife. I shall teach you to love me! I vow it!" and he held her tightly in his arms, letting her vent her terrible grief. He would have given his life to have avoided causing her any sort of pain, but tonight at their real beginning as man and wife he wanted the truth between them.

Blaze wept on. She did not think she could bear the terrible pain of what he had just told her. He loved her! He loved her! He had lied to the king in his bold attempt to have her for himself. Had not Henry been tiring of her, and his interest drifting in another direction, Anthony might have incurred the king's undying wrath. He might have endangered his very life! He had done it for her. All for her! Yet she did not love him, and she could not be certain that she would ever feel anything more for him than what she felt now. But what did she feel for him now? She could not be certain anymore. This startling revelation had left her totally and utterly confused. She should be glad that he loved her, yet she felt guilty for her own lack of feelings toward him.

"Damn you, Tony!" she managed to sob. "Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!" and she began to beat upon his chest in a frenzy.

He could not understand why she was angry at him. Had he not just admitted his love for her? Had he not just admitted the dangerous and daring deception that he had effected in order to make her his wife? He had believed that this truthful admission would somehow change everything. That she might even admit a love for him. What a fool he had been! Her overtures of friendship had been nothing more than a sham. He had been right all along. She probably wept because he had taken her away from court and a life she actually had been enjoying. Lies! Lies! All her sweet explanations had been nothing more than lies!

Catching her by the shoulders, he looked down into her face, ignoring, or perhaps not even seeing, the bleakness of her look. "If this is some ruse, madam, to avoid further your wifely duties to this family, you have failed in your intent. You will begin accepting your responsibilities to the Langford earldom this very night!" His voice was icy, and devoid of kindness.

Her hand flew to her mouth for a moment, and then lowering it, she said low, "You would force me, even as the king forced me?" Her look was hollow.

"A husband does not force a wife," he replied. "A wife belongs to her husband. She is his to do with as he wills, Blaze. Did my uncle never teach you that?"

"How do you dare to even mention Edmund in the same breath as you voice your intent to rape me?"

"Rape you?" His voice was indignant. "A husband cannot rape his wife. She is his property, both body and soul."

Blaze said nothing to him, but turning, she walked to the bed, and laying herself upon it, spread herself wide. "If I fought you I could not win," she said in a voice devoid of emotion. "Have your will of me, my lord, but you will have no pleasure of it."

All the hot desire that had been building in his body was suddenly and totally gone from him. He looked at his manhood, a small and shrunken thing now. He looked to her, lying coldly and without welcome upon her bed.

His first instinct was to call her the bitch he thought she was, and leave her. Then sanity prevailed. In his disappointment over her reaction to his admission of love he was again, he knew, misinterpreting her.

She had not lied to him. She had told him the truth, and as she had spoken, he had instinctively known it. If he left her now, if he did not try to repair the damage between them, he knew that he could lose her forever. He would be patient even in his angry and great disappointment. Some little warning voice deep within him admonished him that he must be.

Walking over to the side of the bed, he said, "Cover yourself, my angel," and when she had obeyed him he sat down beside her. "Blaze, hear me out, I beg of you. When you wed with Edmund you did not know him, nor he you. Yet you both learned to love one another. Have you forgotten that? Such a love is a great blessing. In many marriages there is no love, none at all, nor is there even friendship or respect to bind the couple together. Yet I have always believed, much to my mother's amusement, that there should be love within a marriage. I have admitted my love for you as you have admitted the truth of your life at court. We chose to have no barriers between us, yet suddenly you seek to erect yet another one even as we have struck down the others. Do not do this to us, my angel.

"I love you, yet you say you do not love me. Still, you do not hate me. I had begun to believe that you were even beginning to like me perhaps. It is upon this strong, but small foundation that we should build. I can. Can you?"

A little tear rolled down her pale cheek. "You offer me so much, Anthony, for I know the great value of love. I am ashamed that I can offer you so little in return for your love. If you still want me knowing even that, then I am yours." There was such sadness in her voice that he almost wept himself.

Instead he drew back the coverlet and the perfumed sheets, and slid beneath them. "I am beginning to get chilled," he said softly, and he reached out to draw her into his arms. "Come and warm me, my angel."

She lay quietly within his embrace, thinking that her body was probably even colder than his right now. He held her gently, so gently that she felt, not his captive, but rather something cherished and protected. He made no other move to touch her, and gradually as the warmth seeped back into their bodies, husband and wife relaxed and fell asleep. They slept half the night through, awakening when a large log within the fireplace fell noisily in a shower of sparks.

Rising reluctantly from the bed, Anthony padded across the bedchamber to add another large piece of wood to the fire, stubbing his toe in the process. "God's foot!" he swore irritably.

"What has happened, my lord?"

"I have stubbed my toe," he grumbled.

"Would you have me kiss it, and make it all better?" he heard her gently tease. Sleep had definitely improved her disposition.

"Would you?" he demanded of her. "Or perhaps I might interest you in other parts of my anatomy that would benefit from kissing."

Blaze laughed softly. "My lord!" she cried, pretending shock. Sleep had also restored her common sense. This was her husband, and love him or not, they owed a duty to the Langford earldom. She was fortunate in that he loved her. He would not be an unpleasant lover, for he would be seeking to please her.

Anthony slipped back into the bed, and catching her boldly, began to fondle her plump breasts. "God," he half-groaned against her mouth. "Here are the sweetest little fruits ever created, my angel!" And he kissed her deeply.

Love him or no, she had to admit to enjoying the delicious sensation of his hands upon her flesh. She might have felt guilty, but that she remembered the king's words comparing a woman's body to a fine instrument. She believed that she would find Anthony as skilled a player upon that instrument as was Henry Tudor. He seemed to be in no hurry to have her, and she sighed and stretched with pleasure as he caressed her.

Her soft flesh grew taut and firm beneath his stroking hands. His fingers encircled each now-firm breast, sliding leisurely over the swell of its top, moving around the side, cupping the fullness from beneath, smoothing back up sleek warmth once again. It was an exercise that he did not easily tire of, but finally he began to amuse himself with the nipples, catching at the tight little coral buds between his thumb and his forefinger, drawing them out as he gently pinched them. At last his dark head lowered itself, and his warm mouth closed over a nipple. Sensuously his tongue flickered around and about the sentient little tip, and Blaze murmured with soft little sighs of contentment that set his pulse racing.

As he loved the soft ivory globes of her breasts, she found herself unable to keep from caressing him. Her supple fingers moved over his head, entwining themselves in his night-black hair, enjoying the silky feel of it. Her hands fondled the back of his neck, and swept over his smooth, muscled shoulders, digging her nails lightly into the hard flesh.

The touch of her hands aroused him deeply, and he heard himself groan, "Sweet, sweet," as he transferred himself to her other nipple, while beneath him his wife sighed, obviously satisfied with his attentions. He loved her without haste, amazed by his own self-discipline, for he had desired her for so very long. Still, he would have her remember always the way it was the first time between them. Relinquishing her nipple, he moved his head slowly downward over the silky flesh of her torso and belly. He could feel the delicate pulsing of the blood as it coursed through her veins beneath his cheek. He pressed little kisses upon the rounded, perfumed flesh.

Deep within her, Blaze could feel the quivering, although she did not know if it was visible to him. Would he dare? Would he dare to love her in that way on this their first encounter? She thought that a man who could lie successfully to a powerful king would dare anything. His head moved lower, and he was kissing her thighs with the same little soft kisses that he had laid upon her belly. His lips coaxed her limbs apart; his fingers gently opened her as one might open a delicate shell; and Blaze found that she could hardly breathe for the excitement that coursed through her body. His tongue touched her, finding immediately with unerring accuracy that tiny little pearl of her womanhood, and Blaze found herself crying out with her pleasure as he loved her until she was so filled with that special and sensual joy that she wept as it receded, leaving her feeling bereft and alone.

But she was not alone. His body covered hers for the first time, and she took the weight of him upon her thighs as he slowly and gently pressed into her, drawing forth another cry from her straining throat. He filled her with his throbbing weapon, burying it deep inside her sweet warmth. Blaze reached up and clasped his body to her, feeling her breasts being crushed against his smooth chest. He caught her face between his two hands, and kissed her until she was breathless and her lips felt bruised and tingling. She fiercely returned his kisses, giving no quarter, receiving none. Suddenly he began to move upon her, thrusting into her with passionate vigor, drawing back almost to complete withdrawal, thrusting back hard again.

Blaze cried out once more. Cried with her pleasure, yet wept her despair to feel her crisis approaching, yet when it came she was ready for it. She soared like one of her hunting birds from the falconry. Soared straight and true into the burning blue of the heavens until she thought she could go no higher, only to discover that beyond the blue lay a new zone of fiery gold. Uncaring of anything, she hurled herself toward certain destruction, and she cared not, because it was too wonderful. The pleasure burst over her like honeyed wine, and at the same time she heard him cry aloud with satisfaction as his own passion exploded.

They lay wet and chilled and gasping amid a tangle of bedclothes. They shuddered in unison with the receding wave, and then Anthony reached out and took her hand in his. Tenderly he kissed it. There were no words necessary between them now. Within minutes he was asleep, turning onto his side and sighing softly. Blaze smiled to herself, and then the smile faded. He had given her such pleasure, and he loved her. How could she not love him back?—yet she did not. It was sad, and in time he would certainly hate her for it. What kind of woman was she? She who had always believed herself so giving suddenly found that she was taking more, and it disturbed her.

She drew the coverlet up and over them, appreciating as she did the taut curve of his buttocks. He really was a handsome man, and they would make beautiful babies together. Nay, she thought then. Babies come from love, and without it we have no chance of having children. Oh, Edmund! Help me! Must I stop loving you in order to love Tony? I cannot! I simply cannot! Yet I must. I must let you go, but I do not know how. She sighed deeply, and to her great surprise, he suddenly rolled back over and pulled her into his arms.

"You think far too much for a woman," he said quietly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Go to sleep, Blaze. Go to sleep safe in the knowledge that I love you; and whether you believe it or not, I promise you that one day you will love me."

Would she? she wondered as she snuggled gratefully against him. Would she really? For a brief moment she felt a glimmer of hope.