Chapter Seventeen
The dawn was shades of pink and blue, splashing hues across the night sky as the sun threatened to rise. It was a peaceful morning.
Alixandrea was sleeping soundly until a massive body suddenly climbed into bed next to her. Huge arms pulled her close and there was hot breath in her ear. Startled from a deep sleep, her momentary shock was replaced by elation.
She could smell her husband’s distinctive musk, warm and masculine and comforting, before she ever saw his face. She could only pray it was not a dream for she would surely die to awaken from this bliss and find it unreal.
Rolling onto her back, she was confronted by a very familiar, very weary face. Matthew Wellesbourne smiled warmly at her, his blue eyes glimmering with unshed tears of joy. Alixandrea’s first reaction was to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze him like a vise.
“Matthew,” she gasped.
He laughed softly, his face buried in her neck. “Good morn to you, love. Did you sleep well?”
Half-asleep and emotionally brittle, she burst into tears. “Matthew, I do not care what has happened,” she wept. “I love you more than anything in the world. You are my husband and I would be lost without you. Whatever you are, whatever you may be, I will never leave you.”
It all came out as a rambling mess. He pulled back, gazing down at her with a serious expression. “That was quite a speech. Is there anything else?”
She wept in response and he smiled gently, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her wet eyes. He could not seem to stop kissing her.
“No more tears, sweet girl. I am home to stay, I promise.” He gathered her up tightly against him, relishing his first feel of her in ages.
It was sweeter than he had remembered. “I am so sorry, Alix. So sorry you had to go through all of this turmoil. But I am back now and all shall be well again, I swear it.”
She touched his face, feeling the stubble. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. “I love you, Matt,” she sobbed softly. “I am so glad… so glad.…”
She could not finish. He cradled her against his powerful body, holding her with two good arms and one good hand.
He could feel her arms moving over him as if inspecting him to see if he was indeed sound and whole.
The sobs were like music to his ears. Then, one hand began to move down his left arm.
He knew what she was seeking and lifted his arm to show her before she could find it.
His left arm was stumped at the wrist. A soft linen sock fit over the top of it, like a glove, extending up to his mid-arm. It simply covered the nub. Her sobs lessened as she inspected it, carefully and silently.
Matthew closed his eyes as she did so; it was a strong moment, and a defining one.
He had been dreading it for weeks but now he thought himself an idiot.
Alixandrea responded exactly as he had expected her to; not with revulsion, but with interest and tenderness.
He did not say a word as she ran her hand over the cleaved edge of his wrist, becoming acquainted with it. Then she kissed it.
“I would see your flesh,” she sniffed as she went to remove the glove.
He shook his head. “Not now,” he murmured as he pulled his arm away. “It has not healed completely and knowing your weak stomach when it comes to wounds, I would rather you wait.”
She grinned, knowing he was more than likely correct. He knew her well. But it did not stop her curiosity. “Did you… did you find your hand?”
“Aye.” He held up his right hand and she could see the silver wedding band flashing on the third finger. “Gaston retrieved it for me. I would not leave the field until he found it.”
“Your hand?”
“My ring.”
The man had just lost a hand in a horrendous battle and all he was worried about was retrieving his wedding ring. It was the only thing he carried on his person that his wife had given to him and Alixandrea was touched beyond words by his respect for that little silver band.
“I would have bought you another,” she said softly.
“It would not have been the same.”
She gazed up at him, her eyes wet. The frenzy of their reunion began to settle as she reached up to touch his face once again. She could not stop touching him, as if repeatedly convincing herself that he was real.
“You do not seem surprised that I already knew about your hand,” she murmured.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I did not doubt that Mark would tell you no matter how much I told him not to. The man cannot keep a secret to save his life.” The hand that was on her arm moved to her belly. “Speaking of secrets, how are you feeling?”
Her mouth flew open. “He told you!”
“I told you that he could not keep a secret.” His eyes twinkled as his hand drifted over the gently rounded mound. “He blurted it out the moment I entered the gates. I ran all the way from the ward just to see you.”
She smiled, seeing the obvious joy in his expression. “Then you are pleased.”
He leaned down, kissing her so sweetly that the tears returned. She put her hands on his face, sobbing softly, relishing the feel of his lips over her cheeks.
“I have not the words to describe the joy in my heart or my love for you,” he murmured. “I am humbled, Lady Wellesbourne. Truly, deeply humbled. And Aunt Livia will be pleased.”
She laughed, a joyous sound in the midst of her tears.
Her arms were wrapped around him as if to never let him go and she squeezed tight.
They lay there for a small eternity, his lips against hers, his hand moving up her belly, reacquainting himself with her delicious body.
It had been far too long. But more than her touch or the physicality of their relationship, he had missed her wit and charm and companionship.
There was so much he wanted to tell her.
“Much has happened since we saw each other last, husband,” she said as if she could read his mind. “There is much to say.”
“Indeed.” He shifted so that they lay side by side on the pillow, their faces an inch apart. His blue eyes were soft on her. “Much that you may already know, I was told.”
“Did Mark tell you about Lovell’s missive?”
“He did. But I had already heard about it through my sources in London.”
Her bronze eyes grew intense. “Why did you not send word yourself? You promised that you would. Why did I have to hear these things from Lovell?”
He sighed, touching her cheek. “Because I was incapacitated with this wound after the battle. I lay unconscious from blood loss for several days. Mark did not tell you that detail, did he?”
She looked horrified. “He did not. Oh, Matthew, I….”
He put his fingers on her lips to quiet her. “It is of little matter. But it took nearly two weeks for me to feel well enough to move about.”
“You still could have sent word.”
He was remorseful. “You are correct. I could have. And I would beg your forgiveness for not contacting you as soon as I was able. Believe me, many a time I had a scribe begin a missive, every day in fact, but I was unsure what to say or how to tell you what had happened. I wanted to tell you personally, but I was not well enough to travel. I just did not feel as if I could tell you all that I needed to in a missive. I had to tell you face to face.”
“But you sent Mark.”
“Just as I was preparing to return home, the king summoned me. I knew that I could not delay any longer and sent Mark ahead to tell you that I was alive and would soon return.”
Her gaze was steady, without the earlier tears. “Then what Lovell told us is true.”
“It is.”
“But why, Matt? The White Lord of Wellesbourne is sworn to Richard and the bitter enemy of Henry Tudor. Why did you turn?”
He could not explain to her all of the reasons.
It was too complicated, too twisted, and perhaps too frightening for someone like her who was unused to the dealings of politics.
She would never know that it was Richard’s lust for her that set off the chain of events that would eventually claim his throne and his life.
He had to tell her in terms she would understand, and in a way that would bring her comfort.
“You said once that you did not care who sat upon the throne so long as you and I could live in peace,” he said quietly. “Perhaps I saw that chance with Henry more than Richard. Perhaps I finally realized that my family was more important than my fealty to a king.”
“But Gaston turned, too.”
“He realized the same thing.”
She pondered that for a moment. “Do you believe that the wars are over for now?” she asked softly. “Do you really believe we will have the opportunity to live in peace?”
“I risked my life and reputation just for that very hope,” he said. “Nothing is more important than you and our child, Alix. I would kill a million men and betray a thousand kings just to provide my family with a safe world. Do not doubt that for one moment.”
“I do not,” she said, believing him without question. Snuggling closer, she allowed herself to feel the thrill of realizing that he was indeed home to stay. “What of Gaston? Where is he?”
“Henry has sent him to York, to a castle called Mount Holyoak. He has control of Yorkshire for now.”
“Will we see him again?”
“Of course. De Russe and I are irrevocably connected, as he is now to you, too.”
“What do you mean?”
He could not tell her what he really meant. “Suffice it to say that you did the improbable,” he touched her cheek. “You made a friend of the man.”
It was a pleasing thought and she was very glad, although she did not know what she’d truly done to deserve such an honor. She was silent a moment, contemplating the new future before them.
“What will happen now?” she asked softly.
His embrace tightened and he inhaled deeply of her faded violet scent. He had missed it painfully. “Now, we await the birth of my son in the spring.”
She smiled. “There must be more than that.”
“Of course there is,” he thought a moment on something other than the immediate future.
There was so much more ahead of them, things he found himself looking forward to.
“With Henry the Seventh upon the throne, I will send Johnny to Rosehill to bring father home. I will also send Mark to Kington Castle on the Welsh Marches to assume the position of garrison commander.”
“Garrison commander?” she repeated with surprise. “He is leaving Wellesbourne?”
“Aye,” Matthew replied. “As the Earl of Hereford, I have appointed my brother the garrison commander of my holdings. Three of them, in fact, all active border castles. Mark will have his hands full but I have confidence that he can control the Welsh.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Earl of Hereford?”
His eyes twinkled. “Did I forget to mention that? Henry rewarded me for my exemplary service at Bosworth. A mighty legacy to pass along to our son, don’t you think?”
Alixandrea was overwhelmed. Her husband was home, a new earl no less, a baby was on the way, and Matthew seemed confident that peace would hold. The War of the Roses would soon become a thing of the past and a new era of harmony glimmered on the horizon. It was almost too good to believe.
On that day those months ago when she had entered the Head O’Bucket in Newbold and saw a mountain of a man brooding in the corner, she could have never imagined her life to turn out as it had.
It seemed like a dream. The White Lord and Lady of Wellesbourne had passed into a new age and she was ready, more than willing, to face it so long as Matthew was by her side.
Her touch spoke of untold emotion and tenderness as she gently kissed her husband’s lips. Gazing into his blue eyes, she knew that she would never be able to fully express what was in her heart. With all they had lived and died for, all she cared about was that the man was safe.
“I think our son will have a remarkable legacy,” she kissed him again, more firmly this time. “And I think he has a remarkable father.”
Matthew could feel her warmth burning deep inside of him. She was delicious and he tasted deeply of her. “Not nearly as remarkable as his mother.”
“Matt?”
He did not want to talk; he only wanted to taste her. “Aye?”
“There is something I would like to do.”
He thought they were of the same mindset. “I am about to do it.”
When his palm closed over her breast, she put her hand over it, stopping him. Her eyes glittered. “Not that.”
He looked surprised. “Not that?”
“Nay.”
“Then what?”
A wonderful smile spread across her lips. “You promised.”
Her grin was catching. He smiled at her but did not know what she meant. “What did I promise?”
“Is this really the end of Richard’s wars?”
“It is.”
“Then there is something we must do for our children to signify that we have truly achieved peace.”
The following May and after two days of labor, Lysabel-Audrey Wellesbourne was born healthy and fat.
Her father had been so relieved after the long and difficult birth that he had wept uncontrollably for an hour when it was over.
Lysabel was followed in close succession by siblings Rosamund, James, Thomas, Emeline, Daniel and William.
All of the Wellesbourne offspring learned to fish before they could walk.
* THE END *