He collapsed as she did, into speechless submission. Then after a long moment he braced himself on his elbows and looked down smiling into her eyes. ‘Hungry?’ he murmured.
She smiled back and found her voice. ‘Yes. And thirsty. And excited. And I want to know everything.’
He rolled off her and sat up on the edge of the bed, squinting into the sunbeams. ‘I’ll call for breakfast. But as for knowing everything, my love, it’s a dreary story. Marrott and the Woodvilles have already run for cover and taken everything they could steal with them.’
Tyballis curled back against the bedposts, naked in the cavernous shadows of the bed’s curtains. ‘Then the duke will arrest them and throw them all into the dungeons. Then he can govern the country until the little king grows up, and you can go on working for him, and get richer and richer.’
Andrew shook his head, smiling as he stood and pulled his bedrobe around his shoulders. ‘They’ve claimed sanctuary, so there’ll be no dungeons. The queen dowager chose sanctuary in Westminster Abbey once before – she knows the procedure well – and that’s where she’s set up court again now. She’ll be impossible to move as long as the duke threatens to claim back the treasure she’s taken. Dorset has scurried off with her, Marrott in his wake, and that parcel of princesses and the younger prince have been snatched up, too. The new king will arrive to find his entire family in hiding.’
‘When will he arrive?’
‘In three days’ time. On the day previously promised for a hurried coronation – so, insuring it now cannot take place on Woodville terms. The duke is Lord Protector of the Realm, and he’ll have things his way. Order will be restored.’
‘Those last armed gangs will already be on the run, I expect. But I’ve heard the street gossip for some time now. The people are worried about a child on the throne.’
‘Of course they are.’ He was pouring her wine. ‘A child king means a weakened country, with the greatest lords competing for power and the factions divided. There’s France already watching, sniffing for blood and gold. Others are out for themselves – the Stanleys.’ He paused, laughing, and passed her the wine cup. ‘Stop me, my love, when I become boring. My brother reminded me yesterday how I investigate endlessly, and preach to those who have no wish to learn.’
‘Your brother?’ She sipped her wine, watching him over the brim. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going to find Luke. And you’re never boring, Drew. Not to me. Not to anyone.’ She shook her head, tipped up her cup and drank, saying suddenly, ‘I think you’re fascinating. And beautiful.’
He laughed again. ‘I’d prefer not to be thought boring. But beautiful? My nose has been broken twice, and I was never an attractive brat before that. Your taste, my dear, is woeful, and your judgement awry.’
She was immediately interested. ‘You must have been a very active child to break your nose twice. And you are beautiful, Drew. I like looking at you. You’re jaw is so … well, forceful. And those commanding cheekbones. Your muscles are so smooth just under your skin, and I can watch them when you move, like ripples in oil. And parts of you – those parts of you, are so remarkably handsome. And your eyes are deep, like wells, and so black, and sometimes they speak all on their own, and sometimes they go blank, and can’t be understood at all. They can go very cold, too, or burning hot, or just comfortably warm.’
Andrew gazed at her in astonishment. ‘You are clearly deluded, my love. My reflection, when I cannot ignore it, shows me little but the heavy-boned fury of a wild boar.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Drew. You don’t have tusks, for a start. So, you must have a very distorted mirror.’ Tyballis smiled patiently. ‘As for your nose, well, it’s – different. Did you keep falling over, then, when you were little?’
‘I was not quite so careless.’ He drained his cup and refilled it, refilling hers at the same time. ‘I was a careful child, finding it advisable under the circumstances. But I was careless enough to have a brutal father. Now, drink up. Another cupful and I may grow beautiful, after all.’
‘Oh. So your father did it.’ She set her cup aside. ‘Was he that bad? And your mother said … was he really a lord?’
Andrew sighed, coming reluctantly back to sit on the bed beside her. He was well wrapped now, enclosed within the long sweeping folds of his bedrobe. Tyballis was still naked but had pulled the sheet around her. Leaning over, he disengaged it, uncovering her to her toes, tracing the warm curves, watching her renewed arousal. ‘Speaking of beautiful …’
‘Drew, you’re avoiding the subject. And anyway, Borin always said I was horribly plain. Barren, and plain, and skinny.’
Andrew smiled. ‘And did you believe everything Borin told you?’
‘Of course not. But I know I’m barren. And plain. And skinny.’
His hands now slid across the small golden swell of her belly. ‘You never bore your husband a child,’ he said softly. ‘But the fault could have been his. Men can be barren too, you know. As for the rest, from now on you will believe me, beloved, not the fool you married. Now, come here.’
He pulled her close and, unwrapping his bedrobe, caught her tight, naked flesh to flesh. Then, wrapping the black brocade folds of his robe around them both, he snuggled her against him like a child nestled at its mother’s breast. She whispered, ‘But I was pleased to be barren. I didn’t want his babies. He would have been a brutal father, just as yours was. Was your mother forced to marry, too? To thrash your own son so violently that you break his nose …’
He spoke very softly as he cradled her. ‘The second time he broke my nose, I killed him. I have no regrets. But in truth, I was not his son. My mother relates old stories of Lord Leays, romantic stories, which she once wished were true. But that is not how it happened. She worked on his estate, and being simple and willing and pretty, she attracted his attention. When she told him she was with child, he threw her out.’
Tyballis gulped. ‘You are a lord.’
‘No, my love. I am simply the bastard many men have called me.’
‘And the house? His house?’
‘Sad and trivial reminiscences.’ He curled his fingers between her legs, stroking her thighs, speaking to the back of her neck. ‘Abandoned, pregnant and alone, my mother acted without compunction, and made the mistake many women have made before. She went back to a man she’d known briefly once, who had wanted her in the past, and she made love to him. Then she told him the child she was expecting was his. He believed her, and married her.’
‘But then he guessed the truth?’
‘Inevitably he guessed, since we were nothing alike, and I was born a few short months after their liaison. Or perhaps she admitted it eventually. I never asked her. But her husband was a man of sudden furies and frequent drunken violence, and he beat her often. He beat me even more frequently, and once Luke was born to them, he beat the child as well. Luke resents me because his father sent him away yet kept me at home. But in fact it was our mother who assured his safety by sending Luke to the monks. I was older, tall and strong. I was useful at home.’