‘You were sad?’
He shook his head and the thick black silk of his hair enclosed both their faces in a cave of shadows. ‘The word has no meaning. Neither happiness, nor its lack concerned me. I did not question my choices, though was conscious of my freedom to make them. But now I glimpse something else, as if coming at my life anew and from a different direction never before travelled.’
She felt tipsy and full of bubbles. ‘You must know I love you, Drew. Is that what you’re saying? Might you – just a little – love me?’
‘Love? Is that what it is? Perhaps.’ He chuckled. ‘You asked me for commitment. I was prepared to offer that. If you’d asked for love I would have denied it. I wanted nothing to weaken me, divert me from my chosen course, or cause distraction with the fear of loss. But this – if love it is – strengthens me. It wakens me. For those days caught up at Lizzie’s side, with the smell of her vomit and her piss, and the whining and anger, I saw you as a passing shadow. Bringing bread and soup, and smiling at her as she turned away. Then leaving, with the kick of your skirts and the click of your heels up the stairs until silent again. Gone into shadows. Finding myself waiting then, for many hours, until you came once again.’
Once again his fingers travelled, wandering her face and the curve of her neck, down to her breasts and the soft warm dip beneath. Tyballis sighed, leaning against him. ‘I sat up here and cried until I had an excuse to come back down,’ she murmured. ‘Elizabeth doesn’t like me. She wanted Davey but Davey couldn’t look at her without cringing. Elizabeth must be angry. I understand. She has a right to whine.’
‘Of course she does. It doesn’t mean I have to find pleasure in it.’
‘But you do – in me?’ She smiled, tentative.
‘In you, yes. With you. Beside you. On top of you.’ He was on top of her now, half-cradling her. The dusty velvet of his doublet pressed against her breasts and belly. His fingers at her groin twisted and probed. ‘For six days you’ve been an endless but unobtainable temptation. Now I want your body against my body, the coolness of it and the heat of it. Here your hair is curled so thick. It’s a tiny forest, marking the entrance. My entrance. Here. No need to knock. Just let me in, my love.’
‘I wouldn’t know how to keep you out.’
‘Just as well.’ He grinned down at her. ‘For many years I’ve taken whatever I wanted, but I wanted very little. That’s no longer true.’
‘Tell me what you want.’
‘It seems I want you, my love. I want here, inside, where it’s tight and moist and grips me, pulling and squeezing until my breath explodes. I’m frightened of hurting you but I want to force deeper.’
‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ she whispered.
‘Put your legs up behind my back,’ he demanded, ‘cross your ankles, and hold me hard inside you. Take me prisoner. Forbid my way out. Press your legs and knees against me. If I’m too heavy, shout at me. But don’t let me go.’ He was heavy, all sinew, muscle and push, but he took part of his weight on his elbows. She didn’t shout and she didn’t let him go. ‘Downstairs,’ he whispered to her cheek, ‘trapped by duty, and hating to stay, I wanted you so much sometimes I couldn’t breathe. So, this time I’ll make it long and slow. This way I’ll explore all of you.’ Then he lowered his elbows and gripped her, both hands to her buttocks, clutching her as tightly to him as her legs held him to her. With his whole weight now, his rhythm pounded deep and hard and slow. ‘If I bruise you,’ he murmured, ‘than I shall salve you later. I’ve ointments enough downstairs.’
It was a long, long time before they collapsed together. Finally they lay entwined as their breathing gradually slowed, their grasp on each other mellowing to gentle. Tyballis, so sweat-bathed she slipped wet against him, caressed his cheek with her fingertips. ‘It was never so … I’ve never known it like that,’ she said softly. He grinned, too tired to talk. So she said, ‘You must be hot, all dressed for winter. I know there’s no fire in my room but my sheets are soaked.’
‘Your bed, my love,’ he answered her, ‘is as unyielding and lumpy as a hayloft. In future we sleep, and do everything else we decide to do, in my bed. There’ll be a fire and there’ll be soft pillows, and I’ll even put on clean sheets if you want them. But never, if I value my health, will I bed you on this wretched paillasse again.’ He turned, propped himself once more on his elbows, and regarded her. ‘So, bring whatever you have that matters to you, and move yourself into my chambers downstairs.’
‘Now? But Elizabeth …’
‘Not now, no. Later. I’ll let Lizzie stay where she is for a day or two more. Watching you cross over her mattress as you carry your belongings into my domain would have her spitting. But I want you with me, little one, and there’s another way of achieving that.’
‘Climbing in the window?’
He chuckled. ‘First I’m taking you to Crosby’s,’ he said. ‘I have to go there, in any case. I need to change my clothes, since these are foul with Lizzie’s blood. Then I intend getting back to work. I promised her I’d collect a gown for her, since she now owns nothing but a shift. And most important, I want a place to rut, plot and rest in privacy without a parcel of cheats and cut-purses eager to watch each time I blow my nose.’
Her excitement lit her eyes as her smile grew wide. ‘Those wonderful rooms? And wonderful clothes? And to live there? And work together?’
‘We’ll work together when it’s possible and when I decide it’s advisable. At court it would be too dangerous.’ Andrew swung his legs from the bed and began to lace up his hose. ‘It will mean you obeying me,’ he said, ‘for the danger is too great otherwise. No more beetle-brained ideas of your own, no hopping into other men’s beds or deciding to follow me when I tell you to stay at home.’
‘If home is Crosby’s, I’ll be delighted to stay there.’
‘No woman is ever delighted to do as she’s told,’ Andrew said, looking down at her. ‘But with me, it will be imperative. So – honour and obey, my love?’
‘I promise.’ She would have promised anything.
‘Then get dressed,’ he said. ‘We leave immediately.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘Earl Rivers,’ Catesby said, ‘has issued new instructions at Ludlow. His hold over the future king is tightening.’
‘It could hardly be tighter than it is already.’
‘It could, my lord. It could and now it is. From one week past there is no action allowed of any kind either for or by the prince, without the direct guidance and permission of the earl, or his two most trusted companions. It is official. Now the child cannot shit without their advice.’ Catesby leaned back, stretching his legs to the fire. ‘So, Feayton, tell me. What do they fear?’
‘They fear nothing,’ Andrew said. ‘They prepare. When Edward dies as planned, the new king will be entirely under Woodville control. Thus the heir to the throne becomes Rivers’ puppet.’
‘So, has the order to poison the king been given a second time? Do you know already?’
Andrew Cobham shook his head. ‘Rivers travels to London at the end of this month. Parliament sits, and he will therefore be present. The secret order will surely then be given. He cannot trust such words to paper, nor will he trust them to a messenger. And it is why Throckmorton has not yet been killed.’
‘So, they have not yet taken a new supply of arsenic?’
‘After the previous confusion in which I was involved? No.’ Andrew smiled. ‘Hastings was alerted, Lord Marrott in particular is now watched, and the suspicion has spread to Dorset – now also under scrutiny. But I was too closely embroiled. They will not dare approach Throckmorton again until utterly necessary.’