again.
The duke spun on his heels to resume his pacing across the rich blue carpets until
he stood, legs wide apart, in front of the fire. The light cast by the blazing logs
threw into relief the strong bones of the duke’s face and his narrowed, worried eyes.
“In the good queen’s reign we have been called upon to wage war with Spain, in Ireland,
in France, and in the Netherlands. War costs money. The taxes levied in these last
years have increased threefold. Harvests have been poor. Prices high. All make for
desperate men.” He lifted his fists, clutching the papers even tighter so his fingers
whitened to their square tips. “The queen is old, unwell, and soon there will be new
players on the board. James of Scotland will surely soon be King of England. Some
say it will be a union of love between Englishmen and Scots. Others claim it shall
be Catholic against Protestant. I say we here on the border between both must be ready
and armed.”
A fearful thought lodged in Will’s mind and he became very still. “I know all of which
you speak. We have spoken many times of the need to fortify our position. Unless a
new play has been made to threaten us, why are you concerned now that the alliance
with the Earl of Wharton has been forged?”
There was a slight hesitation and Will, seeing the answer on the duke’s face, stiffened
his shoulders to confront it.
“Will, do you believe my eyes are too old, my memories too faded to recognize longing
and desire blazing as bright as the firmament? I tell you this again to remind us
of our duty and soothe my conscience for being unable to give you what before God
should be yours.”
“I have never asked more of you than you have offered,” Will answered in as unemotional
a voice as he could muster, considering the hot, tight feelings warring within him
since first his eyes met Elizabeth’s. “I ask but one question. Knowing, why insist
I ride with her this morning?”
In two strides his father reached him, the papers fluttering forgotten to the carpets
as he gripped Will’s shoulders with strong hands. “I would give my soul to have had
one more minute with your mother. Allow me to give you this day.”
Will lay caught within a net of pain and pleasure. He could cut himself free and
flee in self-preservation. Or he could stay and continue to suffer exquisite torment.
Outside dawn had come and in a few hours he could see Elizabeth, if he so chose.
With unguarded eyes he met his father’s steady gaze and nodded. “I promise I shall
not forfeit this day.”
…
The early morning autumn air tasted cold and crisp while the sun warmed Elizabeth’s
skin. Astride her horse, she galloped across the field, her long, cream-lined, crimson
cloak billowing about her. She craved this freedom to clear the cobwebs of doubt about
her future from her head and heart.
The wind carried the sound of Laurel’s laughter and the strong, steady hoof beats
of Will’s black stallion.
“Race you both to the stream,” Laurel called, her chestnut mare passing Elizabeth.
Taking the challenge, she urged her horse to lunge forward and the wind whipped her
hair loose from its ribbons to flow behind her.
The earth trembled beneath them, the air thundering with the power of their horses’
gallops. At the edge of the woods, the clear, wide stream stretched before them as
they halted next to it, the horses nose to nose.
Alive with laughter, the air sparked bright about them, filling Elizabeth with the
joy and contentment of this moment.
Snorting, their breaths a light mist in the chill, the horses pawed the earth as Will
pranced his black stallion around them.
The sun loved Will, kissing his strong cheekbones and lighting the blue of his eyes.
“You both are well matched. I fought to keep pace with you.”
A moment ago where contentment had blossomed, now arose an unstoppable primal urge,
a part of her as elemental as