Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
63
The Vows
King Mars
The Master Bedroom, Cord Cottage, The Arbor
WODELL
Mars awoke without his queen in his arms.
His immediate instinct was to growl his displeasure, find her and drag her back to bed.
He did the first part of that.
But upon turning his head, he saw her lying at his side, on her belly, her long, black hair a tumble over the pillows and sheets, face turned away, covers down to her waist, one arm thrown out, the other buried under her body, the ivory skin of her back bared for the rest of her was nude, and even unconscious, she appeared worn out.
Something he knew she was.
For he had made her that way.
No longer annoyed, he grinned to himself, reached and pulled the cord that would call a maid.
He then rose, moved to the fire that was dying and fed it some kindling and logs.
Not that he felt the cold. He was not immune to it, but it was rare it was a concern for him.
However, Silence felt it.
He then moved out of the room and into his cabinet.
There, he splashed cold water on his face, took some in his mouth to rinse, spat that out, dried his face and pulled on a pair of his ante pants, these black.
He moved out the door to his cabinet that led to the hall and saw the maid, Pegeen, hurrying toward the master bedroom, thus he stopped.
His wife had found a much more benevolent mood of late. Thus, she had not directed him to let go of any of the maids.
Then again, the women had begun to do their duties, if only adequately.
“You,” he called to her.
She stuttered to a halt, her eyes darting his way, then falling instantly to his chest. An avid look filled them, before she shot them back up to his.
It was an annoyance, but he made a note to don a shirt around others in this land. They, or at least the maids, acted like a bare chest was an invitation to pounce.
“The queen’s draught, caffé, rolls and fruit. Also, fresh warm water for my bride and start the fire in her boudoir. Immediately,” he ordered.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said with a bow, walking backwards several steps, and he did not wait to see if she turned before she backed away so far, she fell down the stairs.
He backtracked into his cabinet, closing the door behind him, then walked through it, closing the door to the bedroom so the chill from one room would not invade another he was trying to heat.
He checked the fire, saw it was dancing, before he returned to bed.
He slid under the covers carefully, in order not to wake his wife.
He did not wish for her to wake.
Yet.
He studied her glorious hair and flawless skin and he did this thinking at the same time capturing a tendril of her hair and twirling its softness around his finger in a way she would not feel, but he could enjoy touching something that was her.
Mars could not say that he was familiar with all there was to know about pennyrium.
However, he was a man who wanted to father only children he wished to have, so the basics were known well by him.
It was said the effects were nearly instant, and upon but a few hours of drinking the first draught, a woman would be protected from conceiving.
Though if there was a margin of error, this was the point where that was at its greatest, and he had not heard frequent stories when conception occurred in this time, but he’d heard them.
Silence had taken a draught with dinner the evening they first began to communicate much more freely in their marriage, both verbally and physically.
She’d also taken one yesterday.
This morning would be her third.
It was time.
With this thought Mars slid down in bed, released her hair, but took hold of her, pulling her over his chest and drawing the covers up her back after he had her where he wanted her.
She nuzzled her face into his neck sleepily for a moment before she became dead weight.
He again grinned.
“Silence,” he called, shifting her hair off her shoulder and neck.
She did not stir.
“Silence,” he said louder, tightening the arm he had about her.
She stirred, then mumbled, “’Tis not morning.”
Mars smiled “It is, bellezza.”
“Buh,” she stated.
“You must wake,” he declared.
“I mustn’t. We are a king and queen at leisure. We can sleep the day away.”
“I have ordered caffé and rolls,” he informed her.
“Ugh,” she grumbled, pressing closer.
He started chuckling, through it saying, “We have not left our bed in over a day, Silence.”
She said nothing for a moment, before she asked, “And?”
He continued to chuckle as he pulled her up, forcing her to be face to face with him, before he rolled her so he mostly covered her, but they were still face to face.