𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙....
In a world of bloody war and misgivings that lead to treason, there is only one thing Catherine Percy can be sure of and that is danger.
Her life had not always been thus, f...
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~One Life, One Love, One soul the same~
February 1468, Fotheringhay....
Richard's fascination with her body was one that she found endearing; the way he worshiped and took joy in simply looking upon her. He had quickly refused her her nightgowns for bed, persuading her to lie naked with him which she was more than happy to do despite it being deemed a sin by the church.
The morning after they first made love, Catherine had asked to see his back, gently coaxing him onto his front before she explored the curve of his spine with her fingers. He had been happy to show her and she felt content in his trust, his confidence in her making her adore him more than she already did!
They became acquainted with one another's bodies in a way neither knew possible. They knew every rise, every fall, every curve and scar yet found each imperfection only made their love the other increase. To have such intimate knowledge, to know they were the only ones with such knowledge of one another, seemed to bind them together and they relished it.
In a morning they always woke pressed together, her back against his chest but it often seemed that Catherine was stirred from sleep because of her husband. His curious hands would wander, trailing over her skin to their hearts content until she would hum with the gentle thrum of pleasure that would wake her.
He would kiss her neck, murmuring endearments into her hair, which she found he loved to keep loose, cupping her breasts and sliding his fingers between her legs so that she would arch into him.
The fact that he seemed to want to make love to her every hour of each day made her laugh; chuckle to herself when she watched him at training and he would gaze at her with a look of lust-struck longing. He was such a serious thing, always brooding with a small frown on his face but when he was with her, he was almost a different person.
After he would brood and he would ponder, seeking her council for his numerous duties but when he wanted her he was consumed with new life! A new energy that made him laugh, made him smile, made him kiss and caress her, adore her with all he had.
While he sought his pleasure, he ensured hers was never neglected and Catherine found herself growing more and more pleased with the delights of the marriage bed, the twinges of pain she first felt when he entered her fading away into nothing. Her desire burned as bright as his and she began to feel a coil of excitement in her stomach during dinner when she knew that in just an hour or so she would be stripped of her fine clothes and in Richard's arms.
Pleasure, she had been taught, was sinful but now she had felt it, Catherine wondered what could be sinful about a feeling so wonderful. It seemed natural to her, the desire that ran between she and her husband when they looked at one another or their hands touched, when he took her hair down from its braids and sat her on his lap, it felt natural. And, if it was natural, then how could it be wrong?
