Read Online The White Lord of Wellesbourne by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online Page A

“My lady?”
    She turned to look at him, seeing
that he was offering her the first of the food.  With a smile, she took the
knife and cut at the well-browned meat.
    “I hope this is to your liking,”
Matthew said.
    “It looks wonderful,” she pulled off
a succulent piece and popped it into her mouth. “It is very good.”
    He smiled at her and ripped off
his own hunk of beef. But there were more dishes being set down and Alixandrea
studied each one with great interest until Matthew took the hint and began
pulling all of the dishes across the table.
    “This is peacock,” he ripped a
browned bird leg off of the body and put it on their plate. “And this,” he
tugged at a smaller bird leg, “is waterfowl. Swan.”
    She nibbled at the peacock. “Do
you always eat this well?”
    The corners of his blue eyes
crinkled. “Only when we have very special guests.”
    Chewing, she watched him with a
smile on her lips until he turned to look at her. “I am a guest, am I? I
thought I was to be a resident. Was I wrong?”
    He lifted his eyebrows as he
reached for the wine. “Nay,” he poured some sweet red liquid into her cup. “But
your arrival is certainly an occasion.”
    “A happy one?” she teased.
    “Aye.”
    She swallowed her food.  Leaning
in his direction, she put on her best serious expression. “Are you sure? We are
not married yet, after all. I suppose you could still delay the marriage if you
had a mind to.”
    Thoughts of her supple body
silhouetted through the sheer robe by the firelight crossed his mind.  “I have
no inclination to.”
    “Surely?”
    He sighed heavily and leaned into
her just as she was leaning into him. Their faces were mere inches from each
other. As she held a mock serious expression, he matched it.
    “You are never going to forgive
me for delaying our marriage, are you?”
    “Eventually. But not today.”
    He could see humor playing in her
eyes.  “Are you always this vindictive?”
    Her eyes narrowed, though it was
in good fun. “This is nothing, my lord. You should see me when I am rightly
angry.”
    “I do not ever wish to see you
rightly angry,” he assured her. “And in private conversation, you will call me
Matthew. Or Matt.  I will answer to whatever you choose.”
    A moment of jest had turned into
a genuine moment of warmth.  “As I will answer to Alixandrea,” she said
quietly. “Or wife. I will answer to whatever you feel is appropriate and
worthy.”
    “Alixandrea is a very long name,”
his voice was low; he was enjoying her closeness. “Were you never called
anything else? A nickname, perhaps?”
    She thought a moment. “My mother
used to call me Ali when I was a child. But that was long ago.”
    He smiled. She smiled. He could
not help himself from reaching up and stroking a finger across her soft cheek.
“Ali is for a child,” he murmured. “Alixandrea is for a woman, and a beautiful
one at that.”
    He might as well have scorched
her face, for that was the same effect his finger had upon her flesh. She could
still feel the heat from it and it set her heart to racing.  Their eyes held
one another for an eternity of small moments until someone shouted
encouragement to Matthew of a personal nature and he broke away, looking out
over the room. To his right a table of his men were shouting at him to kiss his
bride.  He waved them off. He did not want their first kiss to be a spectacle.
    Alixandrea returned to her fowl.
A servant had set a marzipan subtlety in the shape of a little castle near her
left hand and she commandeered a slice of it. Off to her right was an almond
milk pudding with raspberries and sugared rose petals; she took some of that,
too.
     Matthew watched her as they ate,
smiling when their eyes met.  The wine was particularly good and she downed two
cups of it in short order.  With the music and festivities, she forgot about
her harrowing day, only thinking of the wonderful life she was sure to have in
this place. Matthew no