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Chapter Twenty

T he feasting and dancing went on late into the night. As the clock struck midnight, a juggler performed a breathtaking show of catch with blazing sticks. The crowd gasped and applauded at his daring.

"My love," Charles said, "I wish to steal you away."

"You do?"

"Yes, there is something I wish to show you." He tugged her to the left and they slipped behind a thick, red curtain.

"Charles?"

He grinned—the grin he gave her when he was up to something or when he had a secret he was about to share.

"You have me intrigued."

"As was my plan." He took her hand and opened a small, wooden door that the servants used to be discreet when coming and going from the banqueting room. "Come this way."

"Where are we going?" She had never been along the corridor he was now urging her through. It was shadowy, with squat candles in hollowed recesses. The floor was stone and the walls bereft of artwork.

"You will soon see." He laughed softly. "And you will like it."

"I hope so."

She followed him up a narrow set of stairs, then along another hallway, and more stairs. Then the air grew a fraction cooler and the candlelight gave way to the thick dark of a moonless night.

"Careful where you step," Charles said, cupping her elbow. "We are high up."

A narrow doorway led them outside into the Spanish night.

"Where are we?" she asked, stopping and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.

"The highest point of the palace," he said. "Somewhere only the chimney sweeps go."

"You think me a chimney sweep?"

He laughed, a soft, milky sound, and came to stand behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he slotted his body up against hers. "No, I think you are a stargazer, or at least you will be." He kissed the side of her head tenderly. "Look up."

She did and immediately caught her breath. She was used to the night sky, but tonight with no moon, the stars were vivid, like a million gossamer stitches sewn into rich, black velvet.

"Can you see them?"

"The stars? Yes, there are so many. Everywhere you look."

"Yes."

"And when I see a black dark patch"—she stared at an area straight ahead—"they seem to just appear, winking at first and then oh… What…What is that?" Something had streaked across the sky, a flash of white, like an arrow being fired. It was quickly followed by another and another.

Charles laughed and held her tighter. "You are surprised?"

"I have seen perhaps one or two streaks of light in the night sky before, but look…" Her eyes tracked the sky. "There are so many. And they are so fast."

"They are the tears of Saint Lawrence."

"Saint Lawrence?" She cast her mind back to her theological teachings. "The Christian martyr who was killed by the Romans?"

"The very one."

"I cannot remember the story exactly."

"My clever wife cannot remember." He squeezed her to him. There was a teasing tone in his voice. "Surely, you can."

"I cannot remember all of the taxes, treaties, and orders I must give to rule as regent and then, on top of that, remember every single Bible story in detail."

"Do not pout." He kissed her neck. "And though it is dark, I know you are doing so."

She resisted the urge to huff.

"You will remember when I tell you," Charles said softly, his breath warm on her ear. "Saint Lawrence was a martyr, as you said. Ordered to death by the Emperor Valerian, along with many other members of the Roman clergy. He was the last of the seven deacons of Rome to die."

Isabella listened quietly, watching the streaks showering through the sky above her and imagining them as the poor saint's tears.

"When he was summoned before the executioners, Lawrence was ordered to bring all the wealth of the Church with him," Charles went on. "He showed up with a handful of crippled, poor, and sick men, and when questioned, replied that the men were the true wealth of the Church."

"Yes, of course, I recall now." She rested her hands on Charles's forearms as they held her around the waist. "Poor man, he was cooked on a gridiron, wasn't he?"

"Yes, and it is said that his last words were a jest."

"A jest? It is no laughing matter, surely, being cooked alive." She turned within his arms and looked up at him.

"I would agree wholeheartedly. I should thoroughly hate to be cooked, but legend has it he quipped to his killers, ‘Turn me over, I'm done on this side.'"

Isabella gasped. "Charles, what a thing to say of a saint. Of a Christian martyr."

He laughed and held her close. "I am only repeating what I heard."

"And who told you such a thing?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, I want to know if this is how men talk."

"It was Gabriel. On our journey here, over the mountains." He swept his lips over hers. "Do not be so shocked. For here we remember Saint Lawrence's sacrifice. God has put his tears in the sky for all to see."

"I am shocked of such talk, yes." She ran her hand over his hair, enjoying his new, shorter style. "I am now also wondering what other things you men talk of in the dead of the night when you are all weary from riding and in the mountains, or on the plains, or sitting around the fire with wine." She paused. "When there are no women to regulate your tongues."

He tipped his head. "I do not know what you mean."

"I think you do." She smiled and cupped his cheeks. "Emperor of mine. Your mind is too lively to be still for long, much like your body."

"That is true, and yes, I am yours. As you are mine." He lowered his face to hers and whispered, "If that is all I ever am, your husband, from this moment on in my life, I would die a happy man."

"Do not talk of dying." Her heart squeezed with love. "I could not bear it."

"As I could not bear it if I were to lose you." He narrowed his eyes. "Sometimes I pray that it will be I who goes first, for I could not breathe in a world in which you are not."

"Oh, Charles." She went onto her toes and kissed him. "And I couldn't live without you. God blessed us indeed when he aligned our paths."

Charles took control of the kiss, slanting his head and finding her tongue with his. He tasted of wine and figs and of him . His unique taste that she craved when they were parted but never forgot.

He ran his hands to her behind, cupping her buttocks over her gown. "I believe it is time for bed." He pulled her closer still.

"You are tired?" she asked quietly with her fingers linked at the back of his neck. She was enjoying the length of his body pressed against hers.

"No, my love. I simply wish to be in bed, with you…naked."

She giggled. "But what about our guests?"

"They are bloated with food, pickled with wine. They will not notice we are gone."

She thought of Luisa and Alvaro, her constant companions. They would have already noticed her absence. "But what about—?"

"Do not worry," Charles said. "I gave word to Gabriel that we were leaving the festivities." He paused. "You are with me, my love. There is nothing with which to concern yourself."

"Yes, yes, I am with you." She sighed contentedly. "And I am not worried. Never when I am with you."

"Good, then let us bid goodnight to Saint Laurence and his falling tears and navigate our way to our bedchamber." He released her waist and took her hand.

"Can you find it? The servants' passages are a maze."

"I found my way from the Low Countries to England to Italy, Vienna, and then to Spain and many more places between, my love, so yes, I can find the way to our bedchamber. Do not fear."

She giggled again, enjoying his jovial mood. And she was glad not to be going back to the banquet. The appetite she'd had for food had been satisfied. Now there was another appetite that required sating.

Charles did indeed find his way back to their bedchamber, and when they stepped inside he shooed out one of the palace cats that had settled herself on their bed, then slipped the lock on the door.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I do not wish to be disturbed," he said.

"The servants have been and gone." She pointed to their gifts, which had been set on a long table beneath the window.

"Ah, yes." Charles picked up a poker and nudged a log on the fire. He then threw another on. "That must be how the cat sneaked in."

"It is really so hot," Isabella said, removing her headdress. "Do we need the log?"

"You are about to be devoid of clothes, my love." He balanced the poker back in its tall, iron stand. "So I am sure you'll want the room warm."

"Is that right?" A little twist of excitement swirled in her belly and her arms ached to hold her husband close against her flesh, no clothes between them.

"It is the only thing that is going to happen next…" He paused and picked up the bottle of oil they'd been given. "And this…"

"The oil?"

"Yes." He removed the stopper and inhaled. "It is sweet."

"May I?"

He stepped up to her and held it beneath her nose.

The scent of roses hit her. "Oh, it is lovely, like flowers on a summer's day."

"Yes." He bit on his bottom lip and appeared to hold in a grin. "And apparently, it is for working into the flesh, muscles, and tendons, and it can go everywhere." He reached for the bow on her gown and tugged, loosening the material that covered her breasts. "So shall we try it out?"

"Are you asking permission, husband?"

"Not really." He chuckled. "We will try it out."

He placed the oil beside the bed then cupped her face in his hands. His eyes bore into hers for a moment, then he kissed her with gentle passion.

She clung to his arms and melted against him. Her tongue found his and the rest of the palace, the city, the world faded away. They were alone together. That was all she needed.

As they kissed, he roamed her body, tugging at her bodice, her sleeves, and then loosening her hair from its grips. Her hair quickly tumbled down, as did the top of her gown.

"I will never get enough of you," he said, cupping her naked right breast. "Not for as long as I live."

"And I you, my love." She pushed at his cloak and it fell to the floor with a soft whump . "For when we are together my soul is content."

"God has entwined our souls. We will never be apart in this life or the next."

"That is my hope." With a few gentle tugs, she released his tunic from his waistband. "Take this off."

He released her for a second, gripped the tunic in his fist, between his shoulder blades, and dragged it over his head. His hat tumbled to the side and he let his tunic land on top of it.

She set her hand over his sternum, the soft hairs there tickling her palm. The cross he wore around his neck glinted in the candlelight.

"My body craves yours," he said, his voice low and seductive.

"So give in to the craving." She pushed at the last of her clothes, the skirt of her gown landing around her ankles.

As Charles tugged at his belt, his gaze roamed her body, his pupils were wide, and a sheen of moisture sat on his lips from where he'd just run his tongue over them.

"You are slow," she said, jutting her hip to the left and placing her hands on her waist.

"I intend to take my time. Savor you."

"I like the sound of that."

He pushed at his breeches, then stooped to remove them and his boots. When he unfolded to his full height his cock protruded hard and long.

"Come. This way." He led her to the bed. "Lie down, on your stomach."

"On my stomach?"

"Yes, I wish to work out the knot in your shoulder. The one I saw you rubbing earlier."

"I am sure it is gone."

"Not quite, and best to be sure."

"You want to treat it with the oil?"

"Yes, with the oil." He nodded at the bed. "I promise it will be good."

"You have never let me down yet."

She crawled onto the bed, knowing full well his attention was on her behind as she did so. The sheets were cool as she lay down, her breasts pressing on the soft material and her head sinking into the feather pillow.

It felt strange to be like this, intimate yet distanced. But only for a second because then he straddled her hips, his warm, hard body touching hers gently—his balls, inner thighs, cock.

"Are you ready?" he whispered.

"Yes." She closed her eyes.

But she quickly opened them when a cool drizzle hit the flesh over her spine. It trickled to the hollow of her back, pooling there.

"It shines like gold against your skin," he murmured, setting his palms over the silken liquid.

She let out a moan of approval as he slid his touch upward, applying just the right amount of pressure. His fingers seemed to trace her ribs, and when he reached the top of her shoulders, he gently worked little circles, looking for the knot that bothered her.

"Feel good?" he asked.

"Mm, yes." She seemed to sink further into the bed as he found the uncomfortable little area of tension. Slowly and patiently, he worked it away.

Isabella concentrated on what he was doing, but she was also very aware of his cock sitting between her buttocks, in the crack. It was both exciting and sensual. She knew she'd soon be impatient for more.

"I wish to take all of your worries away," he said, leaning forward and kissing her neck.

"I am worried about nothing, nothing at all at this moment in time."

"That is good." He curled his fingers over her shoulders, massaging the muscles and tendons there. Then he straightened and swooped down her back, following the vertebrae of her spine. Tapping over each bone, tracing each muscle, every dip and rise.

"That feels so nice," she said, again sighing. "I must rub the oil on you."

"Another time." He spread the oil onto her buttocks.

She tensed, having not expected the oil there. But then he worked up her back to her neck and she once again relaxed.

"You truly have the body of a goddess," he said, moving a little lower so he was straddling her thighs. "One that I am privileged to worship."

"You are emperor. It is your right."

"It is an honor, my love." He paused and again worked the oil onto her buttocks. All over them, in the curve where they met her thighs and around to her hip points. "And I enjoy every moment."

He slipped his fingers down the crease of her buttocks. Slowly. So slowly. As he neared her most private hole, she held her breath. Her toes curled. But he simply slipped his lubricated fingertip over it, lingering for barely a heartbeat before finding her entrance.

"Do you want me as much as I want you?" he murmured.

"Yes. Oh, yes." She tried to part her legs, but he held her trapped.

Not so trapped that he couldn't ease into her, which he did, with two fingers, stretching her deliciously.

A rush of lust burst into her veins and she moaned and arched her spine, pushing back for more. "Charles. My love."

"I told you, we are taking it slow. Enjoy this moment."

Forcing herself to relax and harness her desire, she rocked gently with his soft, penetrating movements. Her own arousal combined with the fragrant oil. Every now and then, little mewls of need escaped her lips.

"You feel amazing," he said, palming her left buttock with his free hand and squeezing. "Every bit of you. I want to know all of you."

"You can." She was getting hot. Her need had been stoked. He was so good at getting her trembling for his cock. "Please…Charles…"

"Tell me what you want."

"You. I want you." She arched her back, tossing her head from one side to the other. "Oh, please, let us join as one."

He tipped forward, his lips hovering over her nape, his breaths blowing hot. "I want you too, so badly, so much. Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes. I can take everything you want to give me. You know I can."

He didn't answer. Instead, he removed his fingers from inside of her and slipped his body a little lower.

The next thing she knew, his cock was nudging at her cunny. "Oh, yes…that's it." She pushed back, hollowing her spine, and took him the first inch.

He moaned and gripped her hips. "Isabella. Oh…" He pushed in, a determined glide to full depth.

She held her breath and slid one hand between her body and the bed. Quickly, she found her nub and applied pressure.

He groaned, a deep, primitive sound, and hit full depth.

She gasped and clenched around him.

"Oh, my love. This oil." He slid his chest onto her back. "It is a wonderful gift."

And it was. It seemed to bring them even closer. As though their skin were one, each glide a single movement. The smell of rose petals was intense. She'd never pick that flower again and not think of this moment.

"I want you to find pleasure, like this," he said, curling his fingers over her hand. "Let it take you."

"Yes. Yes." She canted her hips and worked her nub. "It's so good like this." It was as though his cock were touching a different place deep inside of her. She'd felt it before, but right now, it was so powerful.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

But he didn't wait for an answer. He pulled almost out then pushed back in, reaching beneath her to palm her right breast as he did so. He set up a fast rhythm that pushed her quickly toward her climax.

Heat pulsed through her. Her belly tightened. Her breaths were hard to catch. A cascade of ecstasy was welling in her pelvis. Still, she worked her nub, grasping each slide of his cock and pushing up to meet him.

Her heart pounded so hard, her pulse echoed in her ears. He was so hard inside her, the oil slick around his cock making it reach what felt like new depths.

"Oh! Oh!" she cried out. "Don't stop."

The bed creaked with each pound and their flesh slapped. Her climax rushed toward her, deep and concentrated. She held her breath for a moment of bliss, then let the pleasure flow from her.

Her toes curled; she fisted the sheets. Her back was hot and trembling against his chest. "Charles!"

"My love." His voice was strained as he stayed with her, pushing her pleasure to new heights.

She squirmed beneath him, harnessing every last delicious, breath-stealing spasm.

Eventually, she slowed and opened her eyes. She stared at the dancing fire.

Charles was still inside her, his body over hers.

"But you…" she managed breathlessly. "You haven't…"

"Shh." He kissed her cheek then sat upright. He was still buried deep.

Her back felt cold without his body heat. "What are—?" He always tried to find his pleasure when she did. He'd said he liked it that way.

"You said you wondered what other things men talk of in the dead of the night when weary from travels."

She didn't answer. He was pouring more oil into the hollow of her back.

"They talk of women," he said. "I only listen, but that suffices."

"You have me curious." A trickle of oil tickled its way to her waist. She swallowed, wondering where Charles was going with this.

"I am not sure if I should tell you." He rubbed the oil into her skin, again onto her buttocks, and then the crack between them.

Another trickle went lower, to her back hole. She tensed.

"But I could show you," he said softly. "Would you like that?"

"I…I don't know."

"You said you trusted me." The tip of his finger traced the oil that had dribbled through her crack. "Was that not true?"

"It is true." And it was. It really was. She did trust him.

"So just relax and let us try this." He ran his finger to her hole. But this time, he didn't move on, he lingered, and then he lingered some more. And then very gently, he rubbed around it, smearing the oil into the tiny wrinkles of skin.

"Oh…Charles, I don't know if…"

"It will be good to be touched here?" He pressed at the center, very gently, and found a little purchase.

She gasped and closed her eyes. The flames still danced in her vision.

"It will be good for both of us. That is what I heard talk of. A man entering a woman here. For pleasure."

Did he mean to…? The thought flew from her mind as he eased into her. A place she'd never thought she'd be touched. The sensation was hot and dark and felt oh-so-sinful. But also, it was exciting and new and sparked her curiosity.

"Ah, my love, you have my cock hardening even further for you."

She was aware of that. He was still inside her cunny.

"Charles, but…what…?" Her internal muscles fluttered around him.

"Rub yourself again, feel everything," he murmured, his fingertip delving deeper. "Ah, yeah…you're going to grip me tightly."

"Oh…" She fretted her nub. It was still swollen and sensitive. "Oh, Charles."

"That's it," he murmured, going deeper inside of her.

She felt so owned by him, so laid open and bare—no part of her wasn't for him.

"Relax," he said. "Relax and just feel, don't think." The finger inside her went deeper, until she could sense his knuckle pressing on her cheeks.

Concentrating, she blew out a breath. A tremble went over her skin, tapping down her spine to her hole.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock from her cunny.

She tensed again. Was he going to plunge his erection into her delicate behind?

"No, stay relaxed, as you were," he said calmly. "I will be gentle. I will not hurt you. I wouldn't hurt you for all the land and power in the world."

She knew he spoke the truth and so managed to relax.

A new stretching in her back hole. The tight ring of muscle being opened further. He'd added another finger, but she stayed relaxed—she didn't fight it. She welcomed it and rubbed her nub a little harder and faster.

"That's so good, my love. Oh, forgive me, but you look so desirable like this." He spread more oil over her buttocks and gently pushed both fingers knuckle-deep. "I am watching it all, seeing this moment of you opening for me."

She groaned and arched her spine. A strange, dense need for more was gripping her.

"Ah, Isabella." He used his fingers on her like he would his cock, in and out, in and out, working her until she was panting.

"Oh…oh…Charles." Sweat peppered her forehead and her belly was tight. Pressure was building in her nub again and a thought for what the explosion would be like with her back hole full crossed her mind.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded. "Tell me."

She was squirming beneath him. "Oh…I want…I want you."

"Where do you want me?" He sounded breathless too, despite being almost still, apart from what he was doing to her with his fingers.

"I…I want you…there."

"Here?" He buried deep, wriggling inside her. "Do you want my cock here?"

She groaned, deep and guttural, a primitive sound that came from low in her chest. "Oh…"

"I'll take that as a yes."

He pulled his fingers out. Her hole clamped shut and she moaned at the loss.

He was over her, his broad, hot chest on her back, his lips by her ear. "Keep touching yourself. Don't stop, not even for a moment."

"I…I won't." Her wrist ached, but still, she worked herself. It felt too good not to.

"And relax again," he said. "My cock is slick with oil. It won't hurt when it goes in."

"But what if…" She twisted to look at him. "Isn't this a terrible sin?"

"No, my love. We are simply man and wife finding pleasure."

"But…are you sure? Isn't it sod—"

He kissed her cheek. "I am emperor. This is not a sin. I know this is so."

She didn't have any more argument in her, for his cock was there—wide, heated, slick, and demanding.

It took a lot of willpower to keep herself pliant and not panic. How would he fit…there?

"Oh, my love." Again, he weaved his fingers with hers, their joined hands pressing against the bed.

Then slowly, carefully, gently, he curled his hips and delicately pushed into her. His width opened her hole, stretching the flesh around his cock tip until it felt like it could stretch no more.

She gasped at the nip of pain. But it was over in a second and then he was sliding into her. An easy glide despite his size that filled her with a glorious heavy weight that went so deep.

"Oh, good Lord above." He moaned as his body curled into hers and he buried as deep as he could go. "You're so soft in here, and warm…it's…incredible."

"Charles."

"Am I hurting you?" There was a sudden note of anxiety in his voice.

"No. No…" She was breathing shallowly. "Oh, but I want to…I want to find pleasure like this…both of us."

"We will." He released her hand and slipped his between her body and the bed. "Let me, let me touch you." He found her nub and set up a gentle, circular motion—one he knew drove her wild with need.

She groaned and her back hole tightened around the root of his cock.

He snapped in a breath. "I won't last long." He gasped. "Find pleasure when you can."

"I can… It's not far off…I can… Oh…" She screwed up her eyes. The illicit sensations in her behind were building up to a crescendo and her nub was getting ready to release its tension. "Oh, please. Yes. Like that…don't stop. Don't stop. Charles. Don't…stop."

He was barely moving inside of her, the sweetest little thrusts. But that was enough and within a few seconds, she was holding her breath and preparing for the fall into bliss.

"Urgh!" He grunted loudly. His next thrust was a little more powerful, and then his cock was pulsing inside her. She could feel every wave of pleasure up his shaft.

Her own climax claimed her. Ecstasy spread from her nub to her cunny to her back hole. She clenched around his cock, eliciting another deep grunt from him. It was as if her body were possessed for a few sweet moments and she spasmed and twitched as the pleasure flowed through her veins.

Their moans of satisfaction combined. Charles indulged in a few more tender rides into her, deep, deeper still. She welcomed it. She loved it all. Who would have thought?

"My love…are you well after that?" he asked, easing up on her nub.

"Yes. Yes…oh, yes."

He lifted his weight a fraction. "You are so giving, so wonderful, so beautiful. I love you so much."

"As I love you." She was breathing hard, and her body was still being ravaged by sporadic little muscle spasms.

He brushed her hair from her cheek and kissed her. "Will you let me take you this way again?"

"Yes…with the oil, it is incredible."

"I am so glad it is for you too," he whispered. "I'd felt confident it would be for me, but I did not want pleasure alone. I always want you to find pleasure, no matter what we do."

She didn't answer as he pulled from her and flopped onto his back.

Quickly, she curled onto her side, and he pulled her close into the crook of his arm. Their warm flesh was slick and glossy with sweat.

"Do you need a blanket?" he asked.

"No, you have heated me considerably, husband of mine."

He smiled and kissed the top of her head, holding her a little tighter.

"Now I am even more curious as to what else the men talk of," she said, tracing a circle around his right nipple then moving to do the same to the left.

"Many dull things, if truth be told." His breathing was returning to normal. "But sometimes, late at night around the fire, they talk of women and pleasure."

"And you just listen? Nothing more?"

"Naturally, for I would not share a single detail of my wife, the empress. But as we have just found out, it pays to use one's ears."

She laughed softly. "They do not ask you?"

"They would not dare."

She paused, then, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She propped herself onto her elbow and studied his handsome face. His cheeks were a little flushed and his eyes had a look of too much wine, though she knew that wasn't the case.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What is it you want to ask?"

"You are Holy Roman Emperor."

"Last time I checked." He smiled.

"So if one day when you stand before God and the devil himself…"

"Go on?" A slight frown marred his brow and he rested his palm on her bare shoulder.

"What one thing would you sell your soul to the devil for?"

"What one thing?" he repeated.

"Yes. If you were to give up an eternity in heaven for one thing, what would it be?"

"That is an easy question."

"Really? Even as the King of Christendom?" She was surprised.

"Yes, my love. For I would give up everything, my soul included, to have a lifetime with you. A full and long life, that ends in wrinkles on our saggy skin, gray in our hair, and grandchildren at our feet."

"Grandchildren at our feet." She brushed her lips over his. "Wouldn't that be a thing? For our family to go on for generation after generation ruling Spain, ruling Europe? Spreading the holy word of God?"

"Yes, Isabella, wouldn't that be a truly remarkable achievement?" He pulled her close and set a full kiss on her lips as he wound his legs with hers.

The log on the fire popped, a tawny owl hooted outside, and in the distance, a dog barked. Isabella knew happiness was a rare thing. It must be enjoyed when chanced upon. Savored. Appreciated. Treasured. And the happiness she felt right now was one that few mortals ever got to experience.

It was the happiness of an empress being embraced by her emperor and the sense that the rest of the world and all of its problems had faded into the distance.

Only time would tell what was to become of their family. The history books would know it…but they hadn't been written yet.

THE END

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