Desired (46 page)

“There is no need to pretend with me, my friend. Though it is a closely guarded secret, I know you have a marriage in name only. That of course would change dramatically should something befall the heir to the throne.”

Holland’s thick bull-neck turned purple. He reasoned that Warrick’s son would not dare to suggest such a thing, unless he had some evidence of proof.

De Beauchamp continued to plant seeds of destruction.
“Still, one man’s misfortune will ever be another man’s salvation. If aught did befall Edward, you and I would not suffer. Prince Lionel would become heir and eventually king, and our stars would then be in the ascendancy. Power and even titles could be achieved.”

Holland was beginning to realize just how dangerous this affable-looking youth could be. “It pays to keep your eyes and mind open to life’s opportunities. I think we understand each other. Our friendship could well be mutually beneficial.”

The Plantagenets arrived at the austere monastery on a bleak day at the end of winter. They were received with much formality by Count Louis’ Council and the leading burghers of Flanders. The royal family and their attendants were given rooms in the monastery, but the furnishings were in no way luxurious. They were honored with a banquet, but no lavish entertainments were provided for the royals in the sanctified air of the old monastery.

Princess Isabel’s disappointment in her future husband’s rank was forgotten when she met Louis. He was an extremely handsome youth with the golden coloring of her god-like brother, Edward, and when she heard her ladies sighing over his looks, Isabel was well satisfied. Louis treated the princess quite formally and she was vain enough to believe it was because he was in awe of her.

In actuality it was because his father had died with an English arrow through his heart at the Battle of Crécy and Louis’ hatred knew no bounds for these Anglo-Normans. He had been brought up at the French Court and was a Frenchman at heart. King Philip of France had wanted Louis to marry Margaret of Brabant and this lady was closer to Louis’ heart because they were neighbors and spoke the same language.

The day of the betrothal ceremony dawned gray and cold, but Princess Isabel’s ladies were kept too busy to notice the weather. Her betrothal clothes were almost as elaborate as her wedding finery. The underdress was gold tissue, while over it came an azure tabard emblazoned with the leopards of England and the lilies of France. Upon her
head she wore a gold coronet ablaze with deep blue sapphires.

At the dressing ceremony, Isabel said her clothes didn’t feel right. Her ladies pinned and tucked and sewed until the gown felt better, but then she declared it didn’t look right and the tucks and stitches all had to be undone. The dressing of her hair took even longer than the dressing of her person, and when the very last of her ladies lost all patience with her, she declared she was ready to be betrothed and would they please hurry along to the ceremony.

The betrothal was solemnized with all pomp and circumstance. During the ceremony, Joan and Edward’s eyes met and held. They both wished with all their hearts that they could have enjoyed a formal betrothal before the whole world. Joan sighed over the exchanged vows, then sent Edward her sweetest smile. Not for the world would she have him think her sad.

Prince Edward clenched impotent fists at the wistful look he had glimpsed upon his beloved’s face and made his mind up that he would go to her tonight, despite the rigid rules of the monastery that separated the sexes, including those who were married.

In spite of the austere setting, Princess Isabel expressed a wish to stay all week so that she and Louis could become better acquainted. The king and queen were only too willing to acquiesce to her wishes, for this union would benefit England’s trade and make Flanders a firm ally in the war with France.

By the time darkness fell on the day of the betrothal, Louis was eager to seek his own apartments. He found no fault with Isabel’s form and face. Indeed she was most attractive, but her clothes and jewels were so lavish he feared he would be in debt for a lifetime because of her extravagance. She had talked nonstop, filling him in on a lifetime of minutia which told him plainly she was vain, shallow, and spoiled beyond belief.

Back in her own apartment, Isabel was delighted by the handsome Louis, who was obviously the strong, silent type. She already fancied herself in love with him and chattered on endlessly to her long-suffering ladies, until it was obvious
to all that Princess Isabel was in love with love and all the romantic details that emotion encompassed. They hid their yawns, then fell into bed exhausted when she finally dismissed them.

It was long past midnight when the shadowed figure of a monk traversed the labyrinth of corridors, then disappeared through one of the monastery’s portals.

Joan gasped as a cowled figure entered her bedchamber, but her gasp turned to a sigh as Prince Edward threw back the hood of the robe and placed warning fingers to his lips, telling Joan not to speak. She nodded her understanding as she slipped out of bed and hurried into Edward’s arms. With his mouth against her ear he whispered, “No one must hear us, not even the servants.” He knew if there was the slightest leak about their liaison, she would be branded as harlot and whore, while he would not be censured in any way.

Before the week ended, Count Louis of Flanders escaped to the Province of Artois, then fled to Paris where King Philip welcomed him with open arms. The unthinkable had happened; Princess Isabel Plantagenet had been jilted!

The royal family sailed back to Calais immediately, but a humiliated Isabel screamed that she hated Flanders, hated France, and wanted to go home. Windsor was civilized, Windsor was safe, and spring would be arriving there any day now.

The king set about drawing up a nine-month truce with Calais. This would give him plenty of time to return to England and give his army a well-deserved rest. When he was ready to resume conquering France, his fleet would land at Calais with impunity. After their victories at Crécy and Calais, his subjects would welcome him and his son like conquering heroes. He was filled with zeal to establish his new Order of Chivalry, and then he would start recruiting the largest army England had ever known. All men would flock to join an invading force that had been victorious and had gathered such rich spoils.

Calais, of course, would be heavily garrisoned and the king left it up to Warrick to choose the best men for the
job. Warrick chose Sir John Holland because he held a position of high command and had been doing an excellent job. When Warrick did not pick the king’s son for garrison duty, Prince Edward went to him and volunteered to stay behind.

“You cannot be serious, Your Highness. The king wants you at his side when he returns. You are the hero of Crécy. You will go down in history as the valiant Black Prince.”

The prospect of leaving his little Jeanette behind filled him with dismay. “For Christ’s sake, Warrick, he’s signed a nine-month truce! I can’t be gone for nine months.”

“Your father won’t stay away that long, Your Highness. Breaking a truce never stopped him before. The crown of France has become an obsession. I’m willing to bet we’ll be back fighting by summer. It is simply shrewd politics to return to Windsor to celebrate these French victories. He’ll hold a great tournament, induct his top knights into his new Order of Chivalry, and then he’ll be chomping at the bit to return and finish the job.”

“You’re right, of course, Warrick,” Edward persisted, “but I can’t help thinking we should leave a royal representative here.”

“I agree, Your Highness. I’ve chosen Edmund, Earl of Kent. Sir John Holland will report directly to him. And if serious trouble should arise, we are only twenty miles across the Channel, after all.”

Prince Edward knew defeat when it stared him in the face. He would have to leave Joan in her brother’s care, but how in God’s name would he tell her they would have to endure another separation?

He put it off as long as he could, then when they were about to retire, he made up his mind to wait no longer. As Joan began to undress, Edward was amazed to see her pregnancy had blossomed in the three weeks since they’d been together at the monastery. He approached her with concern in his eyes. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

She glanced down at her swollen belly, her graceful hands fluttering over the mound. “I’m as big as a pig full of figs! Don’t look at me.”

He took hold of her hands and held them away from her body, so that she couldn’t cover herself. “Sweeting, you are
the loveliest little bundle I’ve ever seen.” His heart turned over in his chest. How could he leave her? Tenderly, he gathered her against him and stroked her hair. Then it came to him exactly what he must say.

“A voyage to England would not be good for you now. As well as that, I shouldn’t be making sexual demands on you when you are this far along.” She was such a small, delicate female, he was suddenly afraid of childbirth.

She looked up at him with eyes large as saucers. “You have to return to Windsor, don’t you?”

He made a strangled noise in his throat as he swept her up and carried her to their bed. He lay down and gathered her to his side with one massive arm. “I asked Warrick to let me stay with the garrison, but he pointed out it was my duty to return with my father.” His lips feathered across her temple, his desire to protect her and his child almost choking him. “I’ve spoken with your brother and Edmund has agreed to move into the house here until I return.”

She heard the anguish in his voice and knew she must be brave for his sake. “I’ll be fine, Edward. Give me your hand … you can feel the baby moving.”

In wonder and awe Edward placed his big hand upon the precious fruit of her womb and thought it a miracle.

Silently, Joan prayed,
Dear God, let it be a little girl … don’t give us a son who can never wear his father’s crown
.

“I can feel him kicking,” Edward murmured.

“Her,” she corrected, gently.

He smiled down at her, his heart overflowing with love. “If you want a daughter, then so do I.”

Brianna was enjoying being at Bedford but she had never experienced such a cold winter in her life. Perhaps it was because she missed the warmth of Joan’s friendship. At Court in Windsor their days had been filled with both duty and pleasure. There had been music and dancing and laughter each and every night in the hall when they dined with the royal family.

She shivered and decided she would be warmer abed. As she lay between the icy sheets, she felt colder than ever. She found it difficult to sleep alone after experiencing the smoldering heat of Christian Hawksblood’s body beside
hers. She pretended that she was waiting for him to come to bed. The waiting was delicious torture. Finally, he slipped in, lifted her against him, and pressed a row of kisses from her throat to her bare shoulder.

His lips discovered her skin was covered by gooseflesh. Realizing she was cold, he began to warm her flesh with his hands. He started with her feet, which were icy. He rubbed them, then he breathed his warm breath upon them and held them in his large hands until the heat from his body seeped into her. His hands moved up her slim legs and he massaged her thighs and belly. His hands covered her breasts and she could feel the delicious tautness of their pink tips. When he cupped them they fit perfectly into his warm palms.

His touch brought such pleasure she gasped over and over until he captured her lips with his to take the love sounds into his mouth. Brianna remembered when he had lifted her atop his long body. She had parted her legs so that her cleft rested on the swollen head of his marble phallus and his hands had moved up the backs of her legs to cup her buttocks. Her lips had rested upon the black mat of his chest and she had kissed his heart passionately.

Now, as then, when she felt his shaft throbbing against her woman’s center she arched up and down upon him, then moved her hips in a circular motion, over and over, torturing him with her love play until Christian, with a muffled groan, clamped her hips with his powerful hands and slid deep inside her. He did not withdraw for an hour and by that time Brianna had slipped from fantasy into an erotic dream.

T
he return of the army from France was met with victory celebrations all over England. Bonfires were lit along the coast. Spring was in the air and people danced in the streets and garlanded their doorways with flowers.

The king announced that Windsor would host a week of
celebrations, beginning with a victory ball, then establishing his new Order of Chivalry and inducting his most valiant knights. The week would culminate in the greatest tournament England had ever seen. Knights from other countries were invited to come and compete in the jousts and the hastilude and partake of Plantagenet hospitality. French knights too would be welcome and safe conduct guaranteed for those brave enough to pit their skills against the flower of England’s knighthood.

The gossip of Princess Isabel’s aborted wedding was immediately overshadowed by the spectacular events that would begin before the month was out. If King Edward didn’t miss his guess, Queen Philippa would produce a new royal baby by then, whose christening ceremony would add to the celebrations. And there was sure to be a wedding or two the day following the great tournament. A festive air gripped Windsor and everyone at Court decided they needed new clothes for the upcoming lavish entertainments.