The Concubine (Unexpected Circumstances 5)

I could hear his whispered words of prayer though I could not make them out. He tried to roll a little to the side in order to relieve me of some of his weight, but I held fast to him, relishing the feeling of his body atop mine.

He found the spot on my neck with his lips, and I felt the trace of his tongue over my skin. He licked and sucked and kissed there for a minute before settling his forehead against my shoulder and letting out a long, slow breath.

“I love you, my beautiful wife,” he whispered into my skin. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I promise I will be better to you. I will think of everything you need—be it of mind or body—and I will, someday, be worthy of the love you have bestowed upon me.”

“You are everything to me, my Branford.”

*****

My head felt heavy and warm with the coming of sleep.

I was wrapped in my husband’s arms, feeling the slow, methodical brush of his hand over my hair as my head lay against his chest. Though my thoughts were still in turmoil, I could feel the warmth and security of his embrace once again against my heart.

Though I did not wish to think of it, my mind replayed the threat Edgar made in the great room, and my thoughts ever since had been conjuring images of what might happen. Would he truly do as he said? What if he did come here with his army, and Branford were killed? My stomach clenched as I thought of what he said he would do to me, and an involuntary shudder ran through my body.

“What are you thinking?” Branford asked quietly.

I shook my head quickly, trying to avoid the answer, but I felt his hand under my chin, and I looked at his face. His eyes were deep with worry.

“You are thinking of what he said?” Though it was a question, I knew from his expression he was well aware, so I nodded slightly in response. “I wish you had not heard such talk. I never wanted your beautiful face contorted in fear of him.”

“He has said these things before?”

Branford nodd

ed.

“You did not tell me.”

“I did not wish to encumber you with those worries.”

“I want to know,” I told him. “I wish to share your burden. Will that not be my duty as queen?”

“It is my duty,” Branford said, “and my load to bear. I want you to think only of joyous things, not to be plagued with the worries I suffer.”

“I would rather know,” I said. My skin crawled from my own words as it often did when I told a servant what to do or expressed a difference in opinion to my husband or another royal. I reached up and touched the side of his face. “Otherwise, I think…I thought you did not love me any longer.”

“Alexandra,” he whispered, and his brow furrowed, “I will never stop loving you.”

“Branford,” I said as I sat up a little. His hand dropped from my hair. “Am I not your wife?”

“Of course you are!”

“Then please…please let me also care for your mind as well as your body,” I said, using the words he had spoken to me earlier. “Let me share your burden.”

He looked at me for a long moment before his hands rose to cup my face.

“You truly wish this?” he asked softly.

“I do.”

He seemed to contemplate, then gave a slight nod.

“You are—as always—my better,” he said, and he lifted his head from the pillow to capture my lips. I kissed him softly and then lay my head back upon his chest to listen to his slow, steady breathing and the beat of his heart.

“I love you,” I told him.

“And I love you,” he replied. “I hope I will be better at showing you this in the days before us. It is my wish for you to be happy—”