Page 46 of By the Sword
He kissed her hair. ‘Rosemary,’ he whispered. ‘The scent of rosemary will always make me think of you. That first night in the garden at Seven Ways…’ He groaned and pressed her to him.
Kate melted against him, willing her body to become one with his. She hardly noticed as his hand slid down her shoulder again, searching unsuccessfully for the lacings of her bodice.
‘Damn,’ he muttered, releasing her. ‘I’m out of practice.’
Kate laughed and obliged him by unlacing the bodice of her gown. He drew her towards him and kissed her again. In a moment of panic, she stiffened and drew back.
‘I…’ she started to speak but he silenced her, drawing her closer and kissing away her fears. Entwined, they stumbled over towards the bed, leaving a trail of clothing in their wake.
Kate lay back on the bed, and he leaned over her, stroking her cheek as he studied her face in the soft light.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘Relax,’ he said, ‘you look like a virgin on her wedding night, not a widow with a nine-year-old son.’
Kate felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks.
‘I…I’m not that experienced,’ she said, hearing the fear in her voice. ‘Richard and I were both so young and…’ She took a shaky breath. ‘We were only married months before the war came. Then I was pregnant…’
‘Trust me, Kate.’ His soft voice became a low purr and he bent his head, kissing her mouth as his hand moved slowly down her body. Kate shivered under his gentle touch.
‘You’re quite lovely, my dearest Kate,’ he whispered.
Made bold by his loving patience, she reached out and ran her hands through the dark hair on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing the ugly, barely healed scar which disfigured his shoulder before moving downward, wanting to remember every part of him. Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world and not just one night, they explored each other with fingers and lips, until long-suppressed passion and desire overcame them.
A lifetime ago she had come eagerly to her marriage bed, a virgin wedded to a virgin. That happy but inept coupling bore no comparison to the skill that now allowed her to soar to unimagined heights. Kate wondered firstly how many other women Jonathan had known and secondly if she was being somehow unfaithful to Richard’s memory. Both thoughts flickered momentarily and were extinguished as she allowed herself to be led to a world she did not know existed.
Chapter 13
Perth, Scotland September, 1650
The cold, grey and cheerless town of Perth resembled every other Scottish town Jonathan had passed through. There had been moments in the past two weeks when he had despaired of reaching this far north. Several close encounters with the soldiers of Cromwell’s army had forced him to sidetrack. Inevitably he had lost his way and found himself in the sullen, unfriendly little hamlets of the Scottish low country with no money and no friends and barely able to make himself understood.
He had found the King’s Lifeguard at Kinross but Giles was not among them, and after enquiries he discovered the King himself was now in Perth. Jonathan, with his letters to deliver, had pushed northwards. The weather had closed in on him the further north he had gone, and he could feel the heavy hand of the fever recurring. If he did not find shelter and rest soon, he had no doubt that he would be in for a relapse.
Amber hung her head, her own weariness reflecting his. All that drove him on was the thought of a dry bed and some food.At the cheerless, grey stone inn where he had been told Giles Longley lodged, he saw Amber stabled, fed and groomed before making terse enquiries of the tapster as to which chamber his friend occupied.
He opened the door the tapster indicated. Two men sat at a rickety table playing cards; Giles Longley and another English officer of Jonathan’s acquaintance, Kit Lovell. A half-dressed drab, no doubt picked out of the gutters of Perth, leaned on Lovell’s shoulder, apparently engaged in nibbling his ear. Another girl sprawled on Giles’ lap, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers.
Giles had his back to the door so it was Kit who looked up, his eyes widening.
‘Jesus Christ!’ he swore.
Jonathan forced a wry smile. ‘Not quite.’
Hearing Jonathan’s voice, Giles leaped to his feet, letting the woman fall in an ungainly heap on the floor. He whirled on his heel, scattering cards in his haste.
‘We’d given you up for dead,’ Giles said.
‘Believe me, Giles, there have been times in the past few months when I have as well,’ Jonathan observed, heaving himself away from the doorjamb.
Lovell rose more slowly to his feet. ‘You look bloody awful,’ he observed.
Jonathan cast a glance at the two women. ‘Get rid of them,’ he said.
Giles tossed the woman on the floor a coin and indicated for her to leave, which she did, muttering unintelligible Scottish curses in the direction of Jonathan as she pushed past him. Lovell put his arm across the shoulder of the girl who had been paying him attention.
‘I’ll leave you,’ he said. ‘Maggie and I have some unfinished business. I’ll hear your news tomorrow, Thornton.’
The ill-fitting door slammed shut behind Lovell and his doxy. Fumbling at the cord on his cloak, Jonathan stumbled towards the fire, where he collapsed into a chair.
