Chapter 14
Rosalyne saw the heat in Edward’s eyes cool, turning to bewilderment. She wondered if any woman had ever said those words to him before.
Clutching his gypon, she yanked him close until their lips almost touched. “Your kisses build a fire within me, Edward. Instead of putting it out, I wish to feed the flame.” She paused and swallowed. “I cannot even put into words what I wish for since no man has kissed me and caused these feelings inside to rage out of control.”
Brushing her lips against his, the contact between them caused the butterflies inside her belly to flap their wings again, bringing about a giddiness and joy that made her want to soar as high as the sun. Rosalyne desired more of this feeling, something that overwhelmed her and excited her and left her breathless.
Her fingers opened and rubbed against the hard wall of his chest. She pushed her tongue inside his mouth, teasing the roof, tickling it. Edward’s arms wrapped her in a tight embrace as their kiss caused her blood to sing. She wanted to crawl inside his gypon and taste him as he had her. Rosalyne slid her hands slowly down his chest to the edge of his gypon, teasing him as he had her. She pulled the cloth away and pushed her fingers up under it, skimming his bare skin.
He felt heavenly. So different from her. Edward was all firm flesh and unyielding muscle. As her fingers traveled upward, she noticed the soft fur that seemed matted there. Gliding her palms against it, she heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled against his mouth, pleased that she could affect him as deeply as he had her.
Edward somehow took hold of her wrists and removed her hands from him. He entwined his fingers with hers, his breathing now harsh.
“I refuse to spill your virgin blood, Rosalyne,” he managed to get out. “But I can pleasure you all the same.”
The intensity in his hazel eyes, now a more vibrant green than brown, caused the pounding in her nether regions to slam against her violently.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She nodded.
He released her fingers and shifted her slightly so that now she rested on his massive left thigh, his left arm wrapped firmly around her.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered, his voice whisper soft.
Rosalyne did as he asked and soon felt feathery kisses along her brow and on her eyelids, his lips warm and reassuring. One hand dropped to her ankle, massaging it with his strong fingers. Soon, the fingers floated up her calf, stroking it lightly. Anticipation built inside her, coiling within, not knowing what to expect.
Edward’s fingers continued their seductive march, reaching her knee, then her thigh, his touch soft and then firm. His lips moved to her mouth, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips, bringing shivers down her spine. Then his hand reached where the throbbing originated. He cupped her, warm and sure, as his kiss became more urgent. Slowly, his fingers parted her, one pushing inside, giving her a jolt.
“Oh!” she managed to say, feeling his smile against her mouth.
He began rubbing, stroking, teasing her. Rosalyne’s heart began beating wildly, its pounding matching the place Edward now touched so intimately. Another finger joined the first and she began to move against them, her hands clutching his shoulders for support. His kiss became deeper, longer, more insistent.
Then he touched something deep within her, something that shattered her into a thousand pieces. She moaned deeply into his mouth, pushing against his hand, crying out.
Edward tore his mouth from hers. “Ride it, Rosalyne. Ride it, hard and fast.”
She did as he told her, holding on for dear life as she moved against the magical storm he created within her. He cupped the nape of her neck, his mouth swallowing her sounds of pleasure as she writhed against him, reeling in the swirling waves that surrounded her. Gradually, the intense feelings began to subside. She grew still against his hand, feeling as if her body had no bones as she limply collapsed against him.
Edward cradled her, murmuring endearments against her ear, sensitive to the warm breath he expelled as he whispered against it. Finally, he grew silent, simply holding her. Rosalyne had never known such peace.
After some time, his hand slipped from under her clothing and smoothed her cotehardie along her leg.
“What did you do to me?” she asked once rational thought returned.
He gave her a crooked grin. “I hope I satisfied you.” He kissed her sweetly, a far cry from the storm of passion his other kisses had held. “’Tis but one thing that occurs between a man and a woman. Among many things,” he added. “And I would like to show them—and share them all—with you.”
His words stunned her. “What do you mean?” she asked, almost reluctant to hear his reply in case she had misread the situation.
Edward looked deeply into her eyes. “I know you have sensed something between us, Rosalyne.”
“Aye.”
“I believe it is a bond that will stand the test of time.”
His tone was so serious. She had never seen this side of him.
“There are things I must share with you, things about myself that you must know.” He smiled at her. “But once I do, I hope you will still want me. Want to be with me. For all time.”
“You . . . wish for us to . . . wed?”
“Aye.” His smile widened.
She had no idea what he might reveal to her. Had he been married before and his wife passed away? Did he have children that she would need to mother? Had he done something awful and run away to Canterbury to escape his past? Was he in debt? Had he killed a man?
“Tell me,” she urged.
He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “My name is not Edward Munn,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Are you an outlaw? Have you assumed another name to . . . escape punishment?” Rosalyne prayed that wasn’t the case. Edward seemed like such a good man. She couldn’t imagine him being a criminal.
Edward laughed heartily. “No, my love, I am no thief, much less a murderer.” He kissed her swiftly. “My true name is Sir Edward de Montfort. I am a knight of the realm and a member of the royal guard, here in Canterbury on a mission for King Richard.”
Rosalyne leapt to her feet. “What?”
He rose and closed the distance between them but did not touch her. “It’s true. I want no secrets between us.”
“So . . . you are not . . . Edward Munn,” she sputtered, her mind reeling at his news.
“Nay, but I have tried to be truthful with you when I could. I did come to Canterbury to work on the wall. The king wanted to see how the construction fared beyond the official reports he receives, so I have become his eyes and ears as I have labored. And I have told you about my parents and my brothers and sisters, so you know all their names.”
“But not who they truly are. If you are a knight, then they are also of the nobility.”
“Aye. Mother and Alys are healers as I said, though Mother is also the Countess of Kinwick. Alys is married to an earl and lives at Brentwood. She and Kit have three children, twins whom Alys claims might be the devil in disguise and their youngest, who is her angel. Alys is the oldest of the de Montfort children, only a minute or so older than Ancel.”
Rosalyne gave him a pointed look. “Then I suppose Ancel is no farmer as you claimed.”
“Ancel is the Earl of Mauntell. He and his wife Margery lost their first babe but have a son named Cyrus, and Margery is expecting another child in the fall. Ancel does love the land and everything about farming. If he were here, he would talk your ear off about ways to improve crop production and new methods of binding wheat.”
“And how is your brother, Hal, seeking his fortune in London?” she asked boldly.
Edward had the decency to look sheepish. “Hal is in the king’s royal guard with me. He is a favorite with the ladies at court, as he is a marvelous dancer and knows just how to pay the right compliment.”
Panic flooded Rosalyne. “But if you are serving the king and we wed, then I would have to go to court!” She began wringing her hands. “I cannot do that, Edward. I have nothing in common with those ladies. Though I am of the nobility, I have been raised in humble circumstances. I have not the clothes nor the manners required. I wouldn’t know what to say to any of them.”
Even though Edward was being truthful now, Rosalyne still reeled from these revelations. He had come into her home under false pretenses. He had blithely lied to her and Uncle Temp about his identity. Why, he had kissed her!
Suddenly, Rosalyne wondered if he’d spun other lies—and just how much she could trust this new Edward. By the Virgin, even she knew of the de Montfort name and how Geoffrey de Montfort had been one of England’s premier knights in the wars against the French. She found herself shrinking from him.
Edward gripped her shoulders and shook her lightly, forcing her to look at him. “Rosalyne, I have no intention of staying at court. I did not want to go in the first place and had no way of turning down the king’s offer of joining the royal guard when it occurred. I long to return to the country—to Kinwick, my home—and live out my life there.” His palm touched her face. “With you. And our children.”
His words briefly reassured her. Then she thought of what she loved. And how she would miss it.
“But what of my painting, Edward? ’Tis the thing that brings me true happiness.”
“Silly goose,” he chided. “I would not ask you to give up your art once we wed. In fact, I hope you will teach our children how to draw and paint. Surely, one or two of them will receive that special talent out of the dozen or so we will make.”
Rosalyne’s cheeks burned at the thought of their children. Of what she and Edward would do together to make those babes.
“You will paint my mother and father, of course. They must be your first portraits. And Alys and Kit will want theirs done, as will Ancel and Margery. Then there are my cousins. Oh, Rosalyne, you have no idea how many cousins I have and the children they’ve birthed. And then there’s Raynor and Beatrice. Uncle Hugh and Aunt Milla.” He paused. “Oh, and Lord Hardwin, the earl I fostered with, will certainly want his likeness and Johamma’s, his wife. And their two boys. You could spend the rest of your life painting de Montforts and our kin, Rosalyne, and never run out of people.”
Edward had thrown so many names at her, she fought the confusion that fogged her brain. He had countless people who loved him, while she only had Uncle Temp. She berated herself for not guessing he was a knight. From his regal bearing and assured manner to his warrior-like build and fine speech, Edward was no commoner. She had turned a blind eye to all of the clues, wanting him to be a simple man.
But he was much more than that. And it frightened her more than anything ever had.
He embraced her, holding her close, trying to reassure her. Lifting her chin with his finger, he said, “I love you, Rosalyne. So very, very much. I thought love might never come to me and if it did, it would be years and years from now.” His eyes grew moist, causing her heart to ache. “But there you were, a woman unlike any I have ever known. Intelligent, fascinating, talented, and beautiful. My heart whispered to me that we are meant to be together.”
Her throat grew thick with unshed tears. “I must ask you something, Edward.”
“Ask anything, my love. I would keep nothing from you now that you know my true identity.”
“Why are you not betrothed? ’Tis the way of the nobility. Did your beloved die?”
Edward tenderly touched his lips to her forehead. “My parents are a love match. They journeyed through Heaven—then Hell—and back again to Paradise in order to be together. Their love is not merely strong. It is the core they have built their lives around. Because of that, they wanted their children to have the same chance, so they did not betroth any of us.”
“None of you?”
He shook his head. “I have told you that Alys is a great healer, an art she learned from our mother. Alys came across a man on the road who’d been robbed and beaten. Left to die by a vicious band of highwaymen. She brought him home to Kinwick and nursed him back to good health. They discovered love and wed several years ago. Even after three children, Alys wears a look of bliss when Kit enters the room.
“The same happened with Ancel. During the Peasant’s Rebellion four years ago, he met Lady Margery.” Edward chuckled. “Literally met her—in the midst of battle. Scooped her up on his horse and brought her to safety. Suffice it to say, they also found a deep, abiding love and are incredibly happy together.”
Edward’s hands encircled her waist. “Mother and Father told all of us—myself, Hal, Nan, and Jessimond—that one day we, too, would find our soul mates, most often when we least expected it. The person we would love and cherish above all others. The one we would lay down our lives to protect. The one that would make each day memorable for us. For me, you are that person, Rosalyne. I cannot imagine you missing from my life, even for a single day. I want to know everything about you. Build a life together. Plant my seed in your belly. Laugh with you. Cry with you. Make love to you.”
His words moved her more than anything she’d ever been told. Rosalyne relaxed, knowing he was still the same Edward she had met, a good man.
One who loved her.
“From the moment I met you, I knew you were different from all others, Edward. And with that first kiss, I realized I would never be the same.” Rosalyne took a deep breath and bared her soul to him. “I believe we are meant to be together, Edward. In your arms, I feel as if I have come home to the place I always dreamt of. With you, anything and everything is possible.”
They shared a simple kiss, not of passion or seduction but one that told of the many promises between them.
When he broke the kiss, Rosalyne said, “I do love you, Edward. Every part of me. Before you came into my life, I was missing the biggest piece of myself—and I never knew it until you arrived and completed me.”
“I feel the same.” He gazed at her with longing, causing something to stir within her. “I will ask your uncle for your hand. We will need to wait and wed after I have reported back to the king. I am hoping that he will be pleased with the news I bring him and honor my request to return home to Kinwick since I have fulfilled my duty.” Edward stroked her hair. “Your uncle is most welcome there. Mayhap Mother will know how to ease his suffering.”
It touched her that he would bring Uncle Temp with them to Kinwick. Rosalyne didn’t know what she had done to deserve such a wonderful man as Edward de Montfort.
“In the meantime, I am toying with an idea,” he began. He released her and turned toward the triptych. “Because of this, I think your future holds something remarkable.”
“Ah, so you have seen the finished panel, Edward,” a voice from the doorway called.
Rosalyne turned and saw her uncle standing there, his hair mussed from his long nap. She thanked the Blessed Virgin he had not awakened earlier and seen her and Edward in their love play.
“Since you have returned, mayhap you would like to help me take it to the cathedral now,” Temp said. “The archbishop is eager for it to be on display.”
Edward gave her a mischievous wink and then turned to her uncle. “I would be happy to see the triptych delivered to the cathedral, Temp. That way all of Canterbury can view it when they attend mass tomorrow.”