May 1285

Brindisi, Italy

Gwen looked up as Richard walked down the beach. She stood in the surf with her skirts hiked to her knees, watching William as he kicked at the miniature waves.

“Papa,” he said, running to his father. Richard scooped him up in a powerful arm and spun around while his son screamed with delight.

Gwen smiled, her heart filling to bursting with the love she felt for her two men. Richard came to her, William still in his arms, and bent down to kiss her.

“I’ve had a letter from Edward, cariad.”

“What does he say?”

“Eleanor has given him a son. He was born in Caernarvon castle a few months ago. Edward has made him prince of Wales.”

Gwen bit her lip. “Oh,” she said, the old heartache resurfacing briefly. Her son should have been prince of Wales.

But it was better this way. William would never have to struggle with England as her father had.

“He wants me to come back, Gwen.”

She stared up at him. “What do you want, Richard?”

He cupped her cheek. “I want you. I don’t care where we are, I only want you.”

He put William down and the little boy ran to where Alys and Owain sat on a blanket beneath a twisted olive tree. He handed the seashell he’d been clutching to his nine-month old sister, Katherine, and she giggled with delight.

Richard clasped Gwen’s hand and pulled her down the beach with him. “Do not wait for us,” he called to Owain and Alys.

Gwen knew where he was taking her. They had found a little cove, sheltered by outcroppings of volcanic rock, and shaded by gnarled olive trees and scrubby bushes.

When they reached it, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless. “Richard, do you think ’tis fair to leave William and Katherine with Alys and Owain?”

His hand dipped beneath the hem of her gown. “Why not?”

Gwen giggled. “You are so wicked.” She gasped as he found her. Closing her eyes, she said, “Mmm, they are newlyweds compared to us. We should watch the children while they play around.”

He pressed her hand to the bulge beneath his tunic. “Think you we should go back now?” he asked, his lips nuzzling the hollow of her throat.

“Mayhap in a little while,” she said.

“Aye, I thought you might say that.” He unlaced her gown and pulled it over her head. “You really should not hold your skirts so high the next time.”

“What?” she asked, distracted by his palms on her breasts.

“When you were standing in the surf. You roused my lust with those pretty legs of yours. All I could imagine was having them wrapped around me.”

He lowered her onto the pile of clothes he’d made, his hands and mouth working their magic on her quivering flesh.

“You are turning brown, my love,” he said huskily.

“’Tis because you are always undressing me outside. If I am not covered, my skin will darken like yours.”

“Jesú, I thought you would never ask,” he said, covering her with his body.

He brought her to ecstasy again and again, then they lay entwined while the hot Mediterranean sun filtered through the trees and caressed their bodies.

“Do you want to go back to England? Back to Claiborne?” she asked finally. At the last, Edward had allowed Richard to keep all that was his. The king figured the furor would die down in a couple of years, and Richard and Gwen could return to England if they so chose.

“Nay, I have not taken you to Corfu yet,” he said indignantly. “Claiborne can wait. Andrew is doing a good job as castellan.”

Gwen laughed and pushed herself up. “Whatever happened to Black Hawk de Claiborne, the man who insisted on doing everything himself?”

Richard grinned. “I hear some wanton wench addled his wits so much that all he wants to do is make love to her.”

Gwen snatched a handful of sand and threw it at him, then sprinted for the water. She splashed into the blue-green Adriatic, screaming when she turned and saw Richard close behind.

He dove after her, catching her ankles and pulling her backwards. “You cannot escape me, love. I must exact a penance for your mischief.”

Gwen wriggled in his arms, wet flesh sliding sensuously against wet flesh. “You will think of something, I am certain,” she purred.

“Aye… give me a few moments to devise the right sort of torture,” he said, his lips dipping to her bare shoulder.

“I will give you a lifetime, my love,” Gwen replied, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as he exacted his revenge.

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