By Queen's Grace, page 26
He held her close and asked earnestly, “By the saints, Judith, what were you thinking? Do you know what Henry could have done to you for such a display?”
“Aye. Matilda and I discussed it thoroughly beforehand. As you can see, Matilda had the right of it, and you now belong to me.” She ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “All mine, and I can hardly believe it. Tell me ‘tis true, Corwin, for I fear my head and heart deceive me.”
Corwin cupped her face in his strong, gentle hands. “’Tis true. You are all mine and I can hardly believe it.”
Then he kissed her hard and long, with promise of more to come deeply imbued within his kiss. She clutched his dalmatic with tight fists, holding on through the storm for all she was worth.
“Judith,” he whispered, “you must never, ever, take such a risk again, especially for me.”
She’d expected Corwin to object, to play the protector. Truly, she didn’t mind, for no one else had ever loved her enough to try before. She wouldn’t let him take things too far, however.
“If not for you, then who? I love you, Corwin. No power on earth could keep me from coming to your aid if needed. Is that not what people in love do, stand by each other in times of both good and bad?”
“Aye, but—”
“Nay, no exceptions, Corwin. We are in this together, you and I. Shall we make a bargain? I will relinquish my harp when you relinquish your sword.”
Corwin stared at her for a moment, then gave a long, resigned sigh. “Well, when put that way, how can I argue?”
“You cannot. Now, if we could but marry tonight, I would be the kingdom’s happiest woman.”
He smiled. “Now that I know we have the rest of our lives, I am willing to wait until tomorrow, or the next day.”
“’Twill more likely be several days. There are invitations to be sent, oaths to be given, alliances made, papers to be signed.”
“For what?”
“Our wedding, and the bestowal of my dowry.”
“’Twill be interesting to see who Henry gives it to. Mayhap he can quiet some of the nobles with it.”
Corwin, apparently, thought he’d received only the prize he’d asked for.
“Sorry, Corwin, but I fear your life is about to change more than you wanted it to. You see, I am an heiress, and you are about to become a very rich man, well on your way to owning enough land to be named a tenant-in-chief. A baron.” She smiled at his shock. “Would that not be grand, a Saxon baron within England’s court? The poor Normans will not know what to do with you, especially if you regrow your beard, which I hope you do because I rather miss it.”
“The poor Normans? Judith, I will not know what to do with me!”
Judith took Corwin’s hand and led her stunned hero of the realm across the yard toward the palace, toward an elegantly appointed chamber with a bolt on the door and a soft bed.
“’Twill be all right, Corwin. I know what to do with you.”
“I love you, Judith Canmore.”
She’d waited what seemed a lifetime to hear those words from the man who walked at her side—the answer to a maiden’s dream. Miracles could happen.
“I love you, too, Corwin of Lenvil. Do you think we might walk a bit faster?”
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About the Author
Shari Anton's secretarial career ended when she took a creative writing class and found she possessed some talent for writing fiction. The author of several highly acclaimed historical novels, she happily works in her home office where she can take unlimited coffee breaks.
Read more at Shari Anton’s site.
Shari Anton, By Queen's Grace
