Chapter Ten
by Paula B and CJ
1 August 1564
Windsor Castle, London
Early Afternoon
After much discussion it was decided that the newly rechristened Sea Hawke carry them back to London. "None have heard of her and we will not tarry in port," Rabb cautioned. "Besides, it may well be the last time that Beth and Sarah will see each other." As they made their way around the coast Sarah grew more quiet with each league they were closer to Elizabeth. And while the seas were calm, Sarah hadn’t eaten well in days and Webb worried about her.
On the last night before they would reach the mouth of the Thames, Clay returned to the small cabin she insisted upon sharing with him for the voyage, even though Rabb had offered the women his cabin. "Rabb is Captain and Beth is his lady. They should have the captain’s cabin. They wish to be together, as I wish to be with you. It may very well be the last time we are together." She whispered tearfully that first night.
"Pray madam, be calm. I told you I will make this right for us." Webb had tried to soothe her to little avail. And while they made love every night and again every morning, each coupling had an increasingly frantic and desperate air about it until Clay dreaded leaving her.
The last night he stayed on deck a while to allow her some privacy. When he returned and pushed open the door he did not see her curled on the bunk. Stepping into the small space he turned startled, when the door shut soundly behind him. Before he could say anything she was upon him, her arms around his neck, her naked form pressed against his. She was wild in her intensity and she pushed him against the wall. Kissing him roughly, she tore at the binding of his doublet, pulling it from him. He didn’t try to stop her as she dragged her mouth over his skin. He threw back his head as she worried his flat nipples, a portion of his body that he had never known to be so sensitive to kisses and caresses before the first time she had suckled him in imitation to how he had pleasured her.
He groaned as she trailed her tongue down his chest. "Sarah? What?"
She didn’t answer him but continued lower. During the voyage from Portugal, as they lay sated in each other’s arms she insisted that he tell her of everything he had learned of lovemaking during his far-flung travels. He told her of many things, assuring her that he had no desire for her to experience most of them. "'Tis for the truly debauched, my love." But once he spoke of seeing the Duchess of Alba take the captain of her guard in a most unusual way. He blushed in the lantern light as he told her, and she gasped at the very thought. They spoke no more of it and fell asleep, content.
Now she tugged at his boots before pulling at his pants. When he stood before her naked, she stayed on her knees and looked up at him with a wicked smile. "'Twas good enough for the Duchess of Alba, my lord." She whispered just before her tongue flicked out and captured the first drop hanging from his cock.
Webb gasped at the sight of his beloved on her knees before him. He couldn’t remember being this hard before. He watched in awe as her hand began to gently explore his manhood. She had touched him before, of course, usually to guide him to her passage but never had he given her time to explore him as he had explored her. He had been so concerned that she enjoy the act that when she did, it had been all he needed. Her tongue on his cock was almost too much to bear.
"Sarah." His cry was hoarse as he thrust into her mouth. She backed off and glared up at him. "Gawd, dearest. What are you..." He got no more out as she engulfed him, sucking hard on his shaft. It was better than he could ever have imagined. And, with the exception of the Duchess of Alba, he had never seen nor heard of any high born lady doing such a thing, certainly none had ever offered to do so to him. The play of her tongue along his length was nothing like what it felt to be inside her. When her hands began to rub his thighs to pull him closer and deeper he couldn’t help but to run his fingers along her head to hold her, too. But when she pulled back he let her go freely. She would be in control tonight, and he would let her pleasure him as she would. "Yes, Sarah. Oh darling, it feels so good." He managed, right before her hands came around and began to stroke the heavy balls behind his cock. As she gently squeezed them, it became too much and he exploded. She sat back in surprise as his sperm covered her body. He thought for a moment that she was going to become disgusted but when she drew one finger across her breast and brought the essence to her lips he sank to his knees before her.
He kissed her passionately rubbing her breasts, slick with his sperm. "Gods, Sarah." He breathed as he pulled her to her feet. "Sit there." He pushed her to the bed and turned to the small basin and pitcher in the corner of the room.
As he cleaned her, she asked softly. "Did I do wrong, Clayton?"
He shuddered and threw the rag across the room. Kneeling before her he looked into her eyes. "Nay, love. 'TTwas incredible. I-I." Laying his head on her thigh he sighed. "I love you, Sarah MacKenzie. Say the word and we will have Rabb turn around now and we will flee to the New World with them."
"’Twould be cramped quarters, my lord." She whispered softly, as she let her fingers play in his hair. "Besides, you are your father’s only heir." She lay back on the bunk and sighed. "Make love to me all night, Clayton. If it is to be our last…"
He rose up and covered her body with his. The kiss was long and his tongue plunged deep. Rolling off of her a little he began to tease and torment her breasts the way she seemed to like. She arched up off the bed, but he held her tight. When his hand reached the junction of her legs he parted her wet lips and began to worry her nubbin between thumb and forefinger. When he saw her mouth open to scream her release, he covered her mouth with his and swallowed her cries. He had little doubt that the men of the Sea Hawke were used to such sounds by now but he wanted all of her for himself.
They made love to each other until dawn showed through the tiny porthole. Finally pulling her close to him he held her as they both fell asleep.
Late the next morning Rabb sent a man ashore to hire a carriage. Webb sent a messenger to announce that he was returning with Lady Sarah.
Sir Neville had told them that the queen was spending all of August at Windsor. Now, as the carriage approached the massive round towers fear surged through him. She must have sensed it, because Sarah took his hand in hers. She smiled. It was almost as if his admission of the possibility of defeat gave her renewed strength. She laid her head on his shoulder and whispered. "You are my one true love, Clayton. No matter what becomes of us. No other man will own my heart – or my soul."
He pulled her into his embrace. The kiss lasted long after the carriage stopped. As if daring anyone to question his right, he jumped down and took her hand in his. If any of the guards thought anything they wisely kept it to themselves, as did Cecil, Lord Burghley, who was waiting for them at the gate. "Welcome home, Lady Sarah." He looked at Webb and nodded briefly. "Well you saved one of them, at least."
Webb allowed a look of sorrow and anger to cross his features. Now the game began. They had agreed on the story that Beth had run away and no one could find her. Even if the story of their escape somehow made it back to England, which he seriously doubted, it would be so garbled that he had little fear that anyone would question them further. Ignoring the opening he snapped irritably. "The queen is well?"
"Aye, my Lord Webb. Well, but angry. She does not like to have her plans foiled. But come. She will see you in the throne room." Fortunately, Lord Cecil turned away and didn’t catch the look of surprise that crossed the lovers’ faces. Their plans had been based on their belief that Elizabeth would want to see them in her private chambers. All down the long corridors Webb tried to come up with a plan that would work in front of a large group of courtiers. He feared that Sarah would not hold up under such scrutiny.
Sarah felt her resolve begin to crumble. It was one thing to tell the tale of kidnap and ravage and flight and loss to a woman who, while queen, had always shown Sarah special favor. As they walked down the hall, even though it appeared she was just resting her hand on top of his, her fingers gripped his tightly. She just hoped her nails would not cut his skin.
The stately stone walls covered with tapestries and paintings seemed to shimmer away and she tried to remember what she had heard when the men had finally run Lord Hatton through. She heard the high-pitched nasal yelp, "Don’t hurt them! Walden only wants them carried away from England. I will make my money from them in Portugal. Do not hurt either of them or I will have your heads." That is what she thought she remembered. Beth was sure of it. And from what Rabb said her enemy had been a powerful woman at court. <<<Who hates me enough to do such a wicked thing? I have enemies at court, powerful conniving enemies, but even though Walden and I didn’t like each other much, is that enough to ferment such a horrid revenge?>>>
"Stay strong, my love." Clay whispered as they approached the tall oak doors. Two guards stood with crossed pikes. When Lord Cecil was three steps from them, one reached back and rapped sharply. The doors swung open and far away to the back of the room sat Elizabeth. A gauntlet of courtiers, men and women, stood on either side of the long woven runner that covered the floor from the door to the throne. Sarah strove to look straight ahead and ignore the whispers and the smirks. But she heard several of her friends whisper to her.
"Welcome back, Sarah."
"Thank God you are safe."
Tess Coulter stood wide-eyed in shock at seeing her. When they passed though, she curtsied low and suddenly every other lady and lord in the room followed suit. All except Lady Walden who was standing just to the left and forward of the queen’s throne. The look on the woman’s face was icy calm; the smirk she wore was pure evil. When they reached the throne, Clayton and Sarah stopped just short of Walden. Webb bowed to his queen but Sarah found that she could not move.
"You have returned to us, Lady Sarah." Elizabeth said with some asperity at Sarah’s breach. But still, Sarah couldn’t look at her queen.
There are stories of the warriors of Scotland, who when faced with certain death at the hands of their enemies draw upon a fearful rage. That rage took Sarah, propelled her past Webb. Before anyone could say anything or stop her she shrieked in a bloody war cry. "Murderess! Foul Despoiler. You dare stand so close to my queen!" Guards ran forward but Sarah was upon Lady Walden, beating her to the ground. "You vicious daughter of Satan. Why would you do this to me? What harm did my dearest Beth ever lay to you? Murderess! Lord Hatton died protecting us from your foul henchmen."
Webb, astounded to near stupefaction, finally reached down to pull her off the bleeding Walden. But even as he and Lord Cecil tried to drag her away, Sarah kicked out. "At your order they took my virtue you whore-monger. What worth am I too anyone now? What man will have me now?" Sarah crumpled and the two men lowered her to the rug. Cecil patting ineffectively at her arm. Webb just stared down at her in awe and love.
<<<Dear God,>>> he thought, <<<What a bold stroke. Will it work?>>>
Elizabeth looked from Lady Walden to Lady Sarah. Her face showed no emotion at all. When she spoke, it sounded as if she was asking the cook what the main course at dinner would be. "Lord Robert, kindly help Lady Walden to the physician." Rising from her throne she came to stand over Sarah. Studying the shaking, crying woman, she said, "When she has calmed herself, Lord Clayton, kindly escort Lady Sarah to my private chambers."
Elizabeth stood rigid at the window overlooking the small pond with its geese and swans floating gracefully. Sarah and Clay awaited their queen’s pleasure. They stood together beside the huge cold fireplace. Their game was dangerous. They looked everywhere but at each other. <<<Would it be all for naught? Would the queen insist that a political match could still be made? She could always insist upon a convent.>>>
"Who, my lord Webb?" The voice was very quiet but still crackled with righteous fury.
"Wallace, my queen."
"Alone?"
"Nay, majesty. He alone conspired with Lady Walden. But, his first mate and several of the crew helped to spirit Lady Sarah and Lady Beth away. All are dead."
"I told you to bring me their heads."
"Wallace’s rests in a barrel in your foundry, my queen, as you demanded. I’m afraid we had to leave Palmer in the middle of the slave pit in Lagos. The mob did not give me enough time to take his head." He pulled out the dagger he had traded Galindez for. "I bring you the gift you gave Lord Christopher, majesty. I thought to return it to you."
"Why? 'Tis not mine. I gave it to Hatton, you may return it to him yourself." Elizabeth turned away from the window and studied him.
Clay gulped but managed, "Return, majesty? He is not dead?"
"No. He rests a bed, but the doctor swears he will live."
"Oh, majesty!" Sarah clapped her hands. "Oh huzzah. May I see him later?" The first true smile of the day kissed her lips.
"Perhaps. Later." Elizabeth sighed and walked to her large throne-like chair and lowered herself into it. "You were hurt very badly, Lady Sarah?" Her vivid blue eyes looked into Sarah’s soul. Sarah steeled herself and lowered her eyes in supposed embarrassment. It would do well not to over play her hand.
"I have healed, majesty." She paused and raised her eyes. "And await your pleasure, my queen."
"My pleasure, madam? Do you think I do what I do for pleasure? Do you think so ill of me to suggest I enjoy sending my favorite to wed some snot-nosed brat? I thought to make you Queen of Navarre. It would have been a strong alliance." She sighed and turned to Webb. "And you sir, do you think I do not know the debt I owe the House of Cornwall?"
Clay blushed. "Nay my queen. I serve…"
"Bah." Elizabeth returned to the window. "The damage is done now. You did not notice, but a messenger from Jeanne was there today. He will report back that you are unsuitable, Sarah. What’s to do?"
"Do, majesty?" Sarah whispered and fisted the material in her dress to keep from reaching for him. "I will do as you command my queen."
Elizabeth eyed the two lovers. She believed that Sarah had been ravaged. Sarah didn’t play court games well and could never lie to her. Of course, Webb was the consummate liar. That’s why he was so important to her. And if Cornwall was to continue to provide her and future rulers with spies then he would need to marry. But she would have it in her way. "And pray, madam, if I command you to a convent?" She watched Sarah’s lower lip quiver for just a moment.
"If that is what my queen wishes."
"And you Lord Webb?"
When they had discussed every possibility, including Sarah being sent to a convent, they had decided to agree to it and he would quietly petition to wed her later. But after last night on the Sea Hawke he knew he could never be apart from her for the years it would take. "I beg permission to wed Lady Sarah, majesty."
Sarah gasped and finally looked at him. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "You do not wish to marry him, madam?"
<<<She knows. Dear god, she knows the game we play.>>> Holding her head high she met the queen’s look. "If he would have such as I for bride, my queen, then aye. I would wed Lord Clayton."
Elizabeth snorted softly. "And, if she is with child, my Lord Webb…by her ravager? What of the offspring?"
"It cannot be, majesty." Sarah hastily interjected before Webb could say anything. She blushed and met the queen’s steady gaze.
Elizabeth nodded her understanding, though Webb for all his worldliness looked thoroughly confused for a moment before realizing that with one sentence, Sarah had secured her firstborn’s future. No cloud would hang over any issue that came forth if a child resulted from their many couplings over the past weeks. Still they would need to marry quickly. "I see no reason to wait, majesty. I have heard talk of intrigue in the house of Borgia and I thought you would need me to check on it quickly."
Sarah bit her lower lip. It hurt her that he was already talking of leaving her though that too had been discussed.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. "I have had my fill of the house of Borgia. But, you will marry within the week. Here of course. Your parents will attend?"
"Aye, majesty." Webb looked at Sarah. He used every skill he had used to keep alive in foreign lands to keep the joy from his face. "As my queen commands."
Queen Elizabeth waited as Lord Cecil brought Lady Walden to her private quarters. She was angry. <<<She knew of Lady Sarah's absence. She linked her name with Wallace. That is too much coincidence. Especially when Lady Sarah reacted so strongly.>>>
The door opened and Lady Walden entered. Elizabeth stared at her as she approached slowly and curtsied. "Majesty." Elizabeth watched the beads of sweat appear on Lady Walden's forehead.
"I believe it was you who told me that Lady Sarah had eloped with Wallace." Elizabeth seemed to falter for a moment, adding, "It was you? Was it not? Or was it Lady Tess? It is so hard to remember, sometimes, all the things that happen in my court. I never thought to hear such from one of my ladies in waiting. Pray forgive me if it was Lady Tess."
"Forgive you, majesty? There is no need, even though it was Lady Tess who said such a thing," Lady Walden bowed her head and sighed with relief. <<<I shall be spared, and one more who is younger than me but nearer to the queen's ear will be taken away. Lady Beth is gone, and Lady Sarah despoiled -- no one will marry her now, she will be forced to enter a convent.>>>
Elizabeth waited, took a deep breath, and finally said, "How gracious of you. Well spoken and almost convincing. Tess Coulter did not spread the rumor that Lady Sarah and that clout Wallace had eloped. I do not maintain my power by cultivating a weak brain. I know what everyone says within the walls of my palaces and without. Lord Christopher Hatton also spoke of your treachery. He heard Wallace speak your name."
Lady Walden began to tremble. She could not speak. It was Elizabeth who broke the silence, "Take her to the tower."
Lady Walden remembered nothing after the queen's words. <<<The tower! To the Tower! That means one thing. One thing only.>>> She had passed out, only to awaken in her current situation. The wooden cart carried her along the road. She was tied to a pole in the back of the cart. Someone had removed her court finery, leaving her in a simple frock. <<<Like something a servant would wear! How dare they?>>> She had no idea how long ago they left Windsor. She sighed, more frightened than she had ever been.
<<<Damn Lady Sarah. The little whore. This is her fault.>>> A rotten apple hit Lady Walden in the head. She startled and looked around. A crowd of rude commoners stood on either side of the road. They pelted her with rotten food. The horses stalled for a minute. One filthy man stepped into the road and picked up something. He threw it directly at her. The smell overwhelmed her. <<<Excrement. He threw... This is all that little whore's fault!>>> She began to sob.
Looking up at the sun, Lady Walden tried to figure the time. Elizabeth sentenced her to the tower late in the afternoon. It was a day's ride from Windsor Castle to the tower. The sun didn't add up, timewise. It was still morning. Then it dawned on her. <<<We left this morrow. I did not awake.>>>
They continued, the sun beating down upon her, the combination of the heat and the woolly material of the dress made her itch. At each town, the rabble stepped forward to hurl refuse at her and to revile her. The stench grew worse as the day grew long. There was no escape from it. The closer they came to London, the larger the crowds. She spat on them.
<<<That craven whoreson, Lord Christopher Hatton. He should have died. Then no one could corroborate that she-bitch Lady Sarah. >>> Lady Walden lowered her head, ducking another barrage of garbage and excrement as they passed through the streets of the city.
The guards met them at the gates of the tower. The light of August evenings, still bright, allowed for a clear view. They untied her, then led her through a maze of halls.
"We have been ordered to take you directly to the block. The queen sent a rider with a sealed letter to be read to you just before the deed," explained the captain of the guards as they walked.
<<<A letter from the queen! She is merciful; she has pardoned me. She has seen what an ingrate Lady Sarah is. Perhaps Lord Webb has spoken for me. I should have seduced him to begin with. He would have been a much better ally than Wallace. That incompetent. This is all Wallace's fault.>>> Lady Walden followed the guards.
They stopped briefly, and the captain of the guards held up a sealed letter. "I am to read it to you," he explained as he broke the seal.
"We wished to attend, but we are far to busy with arrangements for the wedding of Lady Sarah MacKenzie and Lord Clayton Webb. The nuptials will be celebrated before the end of this week. Your absence will be noted.
Elizabeth R"
"It is a mistake. The letter has been switched. It was supposed to be a pardon. No," Lady Walden screamed. "This is wrong. It should not be me! Hatton, that pig. It should be him. Or Lady Sarah, damn her! Even Webb! Damn him, damn them all! Damn Elizabeth too." The guards propelled her through the door. She could see the block and the basket before it. The executioner stood to the side with the axe. She struggled as they forced her to her knees. She arched her back, but the guards, stronger by far, forced her neck to the block. She heard the sound of the axe as it whistled through the air.
3 August 1564
Naples, Italy
Early morning
<<<What a dream. That he had come for me after so long. But 'tis just a dream. But a pleasant dream, nonetheless. I wish I could have finished it before the light woke me.>>> Marcella Chegwidden smiled. She stretched in the bed. She rose slowly and looked out the window. She could see the ocean, the ships passed here before they reached the harbor. She picked up the spyglass that Martyn had given her after that fateful journey to return her to Italy. <<<He looks so much like Alberthol. I'm not sure I could tell them apart now. But they are so different. Alberthol was easy to love, so dependable and upright. Martyn was so difficult to get along with, with his mercurial moods and his passion for the sea.>>> But he had given her a spyglass to watch over the waves, and he let her keep it when he returned her to her father's home. She used it to watch the ships from the window.
If she guessed correctly, the man at the wheel was a Spaniard. <<<He looks happy. I wonder, does he have a mistress in this port? Is that what makes him smile so?>>> The sun sparkled on the water and the ship gleamed in the light. A woman came behind the captain and put her arms around him. She smiled and whispered in his ear. <<<Ah, so that is why he is so happy. He is in love.>>>
Through the spyglass she saw another man. His back was to her, but something about his stance reminded her of Alberthol. <<<'Tis the dream, you silly goose.>>> A younger man approached him, turning so that she could see his face. Marcella gasped and dropped the glass. <<<'Tis the living image of Alberthol when first I met him.>>> She caught her breath, then, hands trembling, reached for the spyglass on the carpeted floor.
Focusing the glass carefully, she found the young man again. When the older man turned and gazed up toward her window, she began to cry. Great tears welled up in her eyes and flooded over her cheeks. <<<It is Alberthol! And the young man, could he be such a man yet? My little Dylan? The young woman, could she be Francesca? It is like the dream, they have come to me after all this time.>>>
Marcella called for a basin of water, brusquely hurrying the servant along. She bathed quickly and dressed, tying her hair back with a gilded cord. She left the house, running along the walk toward the harbor, ignoring the astonished looks of the people on the street.
Reaching the port just as the ship docked, Marcella stopped. <<<What if I was wrong? If I wasn't truly awake? Could have imagined it?>>> Marcella smiled once more, reminded of the dream. <<<How I love the feel of his body. How I have missed it for so long.>>>
"Marcella?" Alberthol called from the deck. "Marcella? How did you know to meet us?" On either side of him, Francesca and Dylan peered over the railing.
"It is you, Alberthol! I thought it might have been a dream," Marcella smiled as she realized this dream was truly flesh and blood. She felt the heat as her face flushed in the cool morning. "It has been so long," she murmured.
Alberthol watched her carefully, taking in every nuance. <<<She is still so beautiful. Would that she smiled like that for me. But I know she is happy to see the children after so long, as they are happy to see her.>>> He waited at the railing as Dylan and Francesca left the ship to embrace their mother. Victor came to stand beside him.
"Ask her to go with us," Victor suggested.
Alberthol shook his head, "Nay. She will not go. She has long since ceased caring for me. But she is happy to see the children."
"She asked first for you. Your name 'twas the first word she spoke. She looks up here to you even now. Did she leave you, or did she leave England?" the Spaniard asked.
"He is right, Alberthol. Ask her," Adele seemed to command her brother.
Then Marcella shocked him. "Husband, no embrace for your wife? Or have you taken to divorce, like King Henry, and found a new wife?" she teased, knowing his distaste for the sometimes barbaric acts of the former English king.
With a smile, Alberthol left the rail and made his way to the dock. Marcella met him, flinging herself into his arms. "I have missed you sorely," she whispered before she kissed him. Without breaking their embrace, Alberthol lifted her into his arms.
Francesca's eyes widened as she watched her parents. Dylan laughed, then muttered, "I wonder, sister, if it is to late for us to have a younger brother or sister?" Francesca smacked her brother across the chest, but couldn't help laughing.
From the rail, Adele grinned. <<<It has been a long time since my brother was so happy.>>> She glanced at Francesca and Dylan. <<<Much good has come from this evil. Two happy couples, four if I am to believe the tales of the queen's man and his lady, and the other woman with her sailor. Martyn would have been happy.>>>
Finally, Alberthol returned Marcella to the ground. They smiled at each other and she asked, "What brings you, Alberthol, after such a time, to Italy. I know you have never been fond of travelling."
Alberthol glanced at his children, then up to Galindez before he answered. "I am leaving England, Marcella. The children are coming, too. Victor Galindez, the captain of this ship, has asked to marry Francesca. We are all travelling to the New World, to La Floridas. Will you join us?"
"It is Spanish territory? Catholic?" Marcella asked. Alberthol nodded. Quietly she said, "I will come. We can be a family again. I have missed you, Alberthol." She kissed him again, pressing against him. <<<And I can not wait to get you alone.>>> She felt his hardness. <<<And you can not wait, either.>>> She smiled, imagining the nights to come.
10 August 1564
Windsor Castle
Just before dawn
She stood at the window high in the west tower overlooking hunting grounds far below. If she walked three windows away she could see the Thames winding it’s dark way toward London. It was a fine room. Finer than any room she had been in save Elizabeth’s own quarters. This and the two adjacent rooms would be their home while at court – while they held the queen’s favor. Sarah had seen much court intrigue over the years. While Elizabeth had granted the marriage and smiled upon them as they danced together afterwards, Lady Sarah Webb knew better than to let down her guard for even a moment. Even dead, Walden had her allies in court and Webb had his detractors. She wished fervently that they could return to Cornwall. She doubted that she would ever see Scotland again but as long as Clay was by her side or was on his way home to her from some far off shore, then all would be well.
The door finally opened and he stepped over the threshold. Even on her wedding day he had to confer with the queen and her advisors on some subject that he knew about. "I’ll be up shortly my dearest love." He whispered nearly five hours ago.
"You’ll be off soon, then." She sighed, not bothering to look around.
"Nay." He whispered in her ear. His hands snaked around her waist and drew her to him. "Nay, love. Not for a while. Truly, we only needed to discuss something."
"When?" She insisted.
He sighed, leaned forward and buried his lips in shoulder. "Two weeks."
"Where?"
"Sarah…"
"Just tell me where?"
"Rome. The queen wishes to know how just how strongly Giovanni Angelo Medici hates the King of Spain."
"You will be meeting with the Pope!" Sarah gasped.
"The Queen does not recognize the rule of the Pope, dearest. It rather negates everything on which she and her father based her legitimacy."
Sarah rested her head against his chest. "But I shall have you for a fortnight?"
"Aye, my dearest love." He bit softly on her shoulder causing her to groan. "You like that my lady?"
"Yesssss." She hissed and bent her head to present him with her lips. As he claimed them she turned, never breaking contact until she could hug him.
While he was meeting with the queen’s advisors, she had her maid help her out of the dress and intricate stays and hoops. She wore a white night gown and flowing robe. As his lips left hers and trailed down her neck to the hollow in her throat she arched back to give him better access. His hands cupped her breasts through the soft material and she held onto his arms to keep from falling.
He continued down to rest his lips in the valley between her breasts. Pulling and tugging until the clothing pooled at her feet he knelt before her and gazed up at her naked beauty. "I love you my wife. I will always love you and cherish you. No matter where I am or what I do, I swear that I will be true to you."
She gazed down at him and ran her hands over her hair. "Take me to bed, Clayton. Make love to me as if it were the first time."
Standing, he pulled her to his embrace and kissed her again before leading her to the bed. Helping her up onto the high mattress of the four-poster he quickly began to pull off his wedding finery.
Elizabeth had sent word that his typical dark clothing simply would not do. His face had been as red as his doublet. But, when he saw Sarah at the bower, all thoughts of clothing, plain or bold became nothing. As they stood before the Archbishop of Canterbury and recited their vows he stared into her eyes and the most profound sense of well being consumed him. It was like they had done this very thing, countless times before. He knew they were destined for each other.
Later as they danced and drank and accepted the well wishes of their friends and enemies alike the only thing that marred their happiness was Beth’s absence. In one of the few quiet moments they shared, she leaned forward and whispered softly, "I miss her Clay. I hope she is happy in the life she has chosen."
Standing before her now, he prayed that Rabb was half as happy as he was at this moment. Joining her in the center of the bed he kissed her softly. "Let me pleasure you, Sarah. Let me make slow love to you."
She returned his kiss, but made no move to further touch him. "As my lord commands." Her grin belied any future obedience but he didn’t care. He began a slow assault on her senses. Kissing, nipping, licking his way down her, he paused to torment her dark hard nipples until she cried out her passion. Moving lower he trailed his tongue down her stomach exploring her belly button.
When he reached the juncture of her legs he parted them and lowered her lips to her center. Lapping at her as a cat at bowl of milk until she groaned, "Please my love, please, I need you." Kissing the inside of each thigh, he moved over her until his cock rested at her entrance.
"Look at me Sarah. Open your eyes and see how much I love you, darling." Slowly he entered her. Finally she let her hands roam over his body, reaching down to touch him as he sheathed himself fully. He supported himself on his hands resting on either side of her head. He always paused at this point, just to savor the feeling of being surrounded by her incredible heat.
Normally she would wait for him to begin to thrust into her, but tonight she began to move underneath him. Rotating her hips she smiled at the effect she had upon him. Reaching around him, she pulled until he lowered his body onto hers. His weight felt so good. He claimed her lips and began to slowly rock in her. Short jabs followed by arching off of her until he almost left her. Then he plunged back deep into her. He gauged the effect each movement had upon her, filing the information away for later use. Her eyes began to flutter closed and he felt the clinching of her muscles around him. When her lips parted and a long low whimpering began, he couldn’t hold back any longer. His thrusts became more frenzied until they both stiffened and cried out their release.
Resting his weight on his forearms, he kissed her eyes before claiming her lips once more.
Rolling off of her, he took a shuddering breath. "I could not live without this Sarah."
Scooting over a bit, she rested her head on his chest. "Neither could I dearest."
He sighed and wondered how he would live without her in Rome. He would worry each day they were apart.
"You know that I am Catholic, do you not Clay?" She whispered as she caressed away the sweat on his chest and stomach.
"It makes no difference to me, my love." He kissed her hair.
"No, but it does to me. Even though I haven’t been to a priest, it pains me to know that my marriage to you isn’t legal in the eyes of the church."
"What’s to do, Sarah?" He yawned. "As long as Elizabeth and the Archbishop say it is so, it is so."
"Well, I think I need to make a pilgrimage to Rome and seek the Pope’s blessing. Don’t you think?"
He opened his mouth to protest, but she lifted up and stopped his objections with a rough kiss. "Would you deny me this, my lord?"
He glared up at her. In the grey light of morn he could see the mirth and determination in her eyes. He knew he would deny her nothing. He would have to figure out a way to convince Elizabeth that it was a good idea. He knew that if he didn’t Sarah would find a way to follow him.
He pulled her head back to his chest. "Sleep my lady. We shall see what is to be done. But not now, eh?"
Pulling the covers up she settled into the crook of his arm. Closing her eyes she wondered what clothes she would wear and what travel arrangements they would make. She would make sure she was a help to him and not a hindrance.
She was just on the verge of sleep when a shrill ring caused her to jerk up and look around wildly. "What? Where?"
"Webb."
Sarah looked around at her lover, who was talking on the telephone. She shook her head trying to free herself from the strange dream.
"Is she all right? No AJ, it’s fine. It’s…" he looked at the clock next to the phone. "…6:45 here. Is she conscious? I’ll…we’ll fly out as soon as we can." Webb hung up the phone and looked at her. "Cordelia had an accident in England. AJ’s frantic about her and the baby. Which, when you think about it is pretty damn scary – AJ frantic I mean. You want to fly out there for the weekend?" Finally he noticed something was wrong. "Sarah? Honey? You okay?"
Colonel Sarah MacKenzie shook off the last vestiges of Lady Sarah and smiled. "Yeah, I’m fine. Weird dream, that’s all."
Clay grinned and reached for the phone. "Tell me about it on the plane. Go shower. I have to make some phone calls."
11 December 2001
St. Paul's Hospital
Penzance, Cornwall
Clay had never seen AJ like this. Energy, a seething rage, emanated from the man. "AJ, the doctor says it's a concussion. She's going to be fine and the baby's going to be fine." AJ didn't speak, but the look he shot in Clay's direction left Clay speechless. Clay nodded, and AJ returned to his watch over Cordelia, who still had not regained consciousness.
"Sir, I've seen you in a number of crises, but I've never seen you like this. Even when Francesca was kidnapped, you... seemed more in control," Mac murmured. She shook her head. <<<I can't believe I said that.>>>
AJ's voice was like tensile steel, "I was more in control when Francesca was kidnapped. I could take a gun and find her, and I did. But I can't do anything to help Cori right now. I can't do anything to help our child. Even though the doctor says there's nothing to be done. They've already set her arm and we just need to wait for her to wake up."
"AJ, what are you doing here at the dig?" Cordelia asked, wincing as she opened her eyes. "Clay? Mac? What on earth are you doing here? Wherever here is."
Clay smiled at Cordelia and then teased, "So that's the thanks we get, dropping everything to rush to your side."
Cordelia laughed, then winced once more, "I remember the board giving way at the dig. I must have been out for a while if you had time to fly in." She glanced at AJ, noting his worried look. "AJ, is the baby hurt? Is that why you're so worried? Has something happened to the baby?"
"The doctor says the baby is fine, and so are you. But I was worried anyway." AJ had calmed considerably. "You were out for a long time."
"Is the hospital necessary?" Cordelia asked.
AJ nodded. "For now. Dr. Harrison said he thought you could leave when you regained consciousness, but he wanted to check you over before you left. No arguing. I already agreed."
Clay smiled as a calmness descended over AJ. Only the pulsing at his temples as he clenched his jaw remained of the worried man they found earlier that day. <<<He's relieved, but still concerned. Probably won't let Cordelia out of his sight for the rest of the pregnancy.>>>
Dr. Harrison arrived. "Did you have a nice nap?" he grinned as he teased Cordelia.
"I had quite a dream, actually. A very strange dream," Cordelia laughed.
"I had one, too. Just before the Admiral called," Mac grinned.
"You'll have to tell me about it while I check you out," Dr. Harrison said to Cordelia. "And you'll need to step outside," he said to everyone else, clearing the room. When they returned a few minutes later, the doctor gave AJ directions. "I don't see anything we need to worry about; the best thing for her now is rest. She doesn't want any medication for the pain, and to be quite frank, the options for a pregnant woman are rather limited. She'll have a touchy knot on her head and a nasty headache, so she probably won't feel like getting about much. Hope this hasn't ruined a vacation for you."
AJ and Cordelia both shook their heads. "We're scheduled to fly out Sunday morning. Will there be any problems with that? I can reschedule if need be," AJ asked.
"That should be fine," Dr. Harrison smiled.
Cordelia sighed with relief as she climbed from the bed to the wheelchair. "Can we stop for something to eat? We can stop at a pub. I'm starving," she asked as AJ wheeled her into the hallway.
"It's been more than twenty-four hours since you last ate," AJ laughed. "Why don't we bring something in to the bed and breakfast? That way you can rest more. I'll call Woody MacEwan from there. He's been worried about you too, but he left the hospital when Mac and Clay arrived." Dr. Harrison handed AJ a pen and some forms on a clipboard. He stopped long enough to sign them, then wheeled Cordelia out to the car Clay had driven to the door. Mac opened the door and Cordelia climbed into the car. AJ motioned for Mac to take the front seat before he closed the door and walked to the other side of the car.
The drive to the bed and breakfast was short. AJ was quick getting out of the car and around to Cordelia's side. She laughed when he lifted her, but didn't argue about him carrying her inside. They rang the bell and as they waited, Cordelia noticed the stained glass window. "It's beautiful. But shouldn't there be some water around that ship?" she asked.
The door opened. "Not at all. It depicts a local legend, the 'Ghost Ship of Chegwidden.' Four sets of eyes stared at their hostess.
"Did you say Chegwidden?" Cordelia asked, glancing once more toward the glass.
"I did indeed. The name of the ship in question was actually the Triton. It belonged to a Martyn Chegwidden." The woman smiled. <<<These people are daft. Both of those women are staring at that glass as if they'd never seen a window before.>>> "Everyone thought Martyn died in a shipwreck when he was young, then he turned up a year later with a ship and a Moor for a first mate. Sailed out of Penzance for years. When he died, as the family was preparing for his burial, the first mate came in and stole the body. Raced with it to the harbor and set out to sea, never to be seen again. But the ship, that's a different matter. On clear, still nights, never a storm like most ghost stories, it can be seen sailing overland to the old family home. Some say it's a sign that Martyn was a pirate, and there's buried treasure there."
"But that's not what happened, he didn't die," Cordelia murmured, noticing the ship's mermaid figurehead.
"He was not a pirate!" Mac gasped.
The two women stared at each other for a moment, then smiled. AJ and Clay gave the women bewildered looks, then glanced at each other and shrugged their shoulders.
The innkeeper stared and shook her head. <<<Crazy Yanks. At least their tips are generous.>>>