Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

And Celeste wanted nothing more than to be taken then and there.

“Ahem,” sounded a polite cough.

They broke apart and turned to see an older man standing at hand.

“Yes, Louis?” asked Celeste, somewhat breathlessly, her heart yet racing madly.

“Shall I clear the table, madam?” asked Louis, discreetly staring off at something beyond the garden wall.

Roel only half paid attention to what Celeste was saying as she took him on a wide-ranging tour. And for her part, Celeste seemed greatly distracted as she pointed out trivialities and failed to mention key points concerning the grounds and the splendid chateau.

Celeste directed Roel’s attention to the striations in the marble floor of the grand welcoming foyer, but said nought of the great circular seal centered within the stone depicting a cherry tree in full blossom. Nor did she say ought of the skylight above, the leaded glass depicting the very same thing.

Broad staircases swept up and around each side of the hall and to the floor above, and on the third floor beyond, balconies looked down from the embracing rooms, but Celeste managed to speak of only the knurls on the balusters.

They visited an extensive library with hundreds of books and scrolls and tomes, and Celeste pointed out her favorite chair.

She took him to a game room, where portraits of her pere and mere and brothers and sister looked out from gilt frames. The room was furnished with tables and chairs, and ready for play were taroc cards and echiquiers for dames and echecs ; Celeste showed Roel her favorite piece , a red hierophant with a bent miter.

In the music room laden with viols and flutes and harpsichords and drums and other such, Celeste gestured at a small violin, the one she played as a child.

Outside she walked him through the gardens, and talked of plying a trowel. She showed him the stables, and there Roel found his black placidly munching on oats. The horse seemed more interested in his next mouthful than in his knight.

They strolled past gazebos and fountains and sundials and other such objects of the manor. Although Roel now and then paid close attention, he spent most of his time admiring Celeste.

Roel was introduced to gardeners and stablemen, to servants and seamstresses, to the smith and farrier, to laundresses and hunters, to the keeper of the mews where messenger falcons were housed, and to many of the other staff of the considerable manor. But the only name that remained in his mind was Celeste, Celeste, Celeste . Try as he would to remember the names of the people he met, they went glimmering away in the sunbeams of this most glorious day.

And though Celeste knew she was babbling but could not seem to stop, and though Roel tried to attend but failed, they basked in one another’s company, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the presence of the other.

And neither could forget the burning passion of their kiss, the desire set aflame, the wanting of one another. It was as an unquenchable fire.

That evening they had dinner in an intimate chamber, one with a table just for two. What they ate, neither could say, for they were completely entranced with one another. Later, dressed against the chill of the spring night, they sat in a gazebo and watched the moon rise.

Finally, they returned to the manor, and in the hallway they espied Henriette lurking in the shadows, waiting for Celeste’s safe return. Roel escorted Celeste to her chamber door and with a rather chaste kiss he bade her good night. Roel then stepped into his own room, and reliving Celeste’s every move, every gesture, every smile, he made ready for bed. He crawled under his covers and spent a long while staring at the silver moonlit world beyond his windows.

And then the door between his chamber and Celeste’s opened, and dressed in nought but a filmy negligee, the princess came padding in, moonlight revealing, then shadows concealing, as she passed in and out of the silvery beams.

“My lady?” said Roel, starting up, but she gestured for him to remain abed.

“Sieur, I was not satisfied by that peck at my door,” said Celeste, crawling in beside him. She curled into his embrace, and he kissed her gently and then fiercely and she hungrily responded in kind. His manhood was hard and pressing against her, and she could feel the beat of his pulse. Celeste paused a moment to pull her negligee up and off and cast it to the floor. And as he doffed his nightshirt, the garment falling aside neglected, she whisked the covers away. And she lay back and looked at him now above her.

“Beloved,” he whispered, and momentarily paused, gazing into her sweet face in the diffuse radiance of moonglow. And he softly kissed her, and she him, and then he slipped inside her. She moaned in pleasure, as did he, and they slowly began making love.

Some moments later and outside the door, Henriette leaned forward in her chair and covered her ears against the sounds coming from within, and she muttered to herself over and over, “I’m not hearing this. I’m not hearing this. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. . ”

Declarations

Covered in perspiration in the aftermath of making love for the third time, Celeste and Roel lay abed in moonlight streaming through the window, Roel on his back, Celeste on her side and propped on one elbow and gazing at him. “My lady,” whispered Roel as with one finger she traced the line of his jaw, “you are insatiable.”

“As are you, Sieur Knight,” she replied.

“If she is yet at the door,” said Roel, “what must your chaperone think?”

“That we are well in love,” said Celeste, smiling.

Though neither knew it, Henriette, her face flushed, her own heart racing, had long since fled to her quarters.

“I do love you, Princess,” said Roel, now hitching about to look at her, “and have done so since I lifted you down from your oak tree.”

“Do you recall what you said?” asked Celeste.

Roel nodded. “I said, ‘Oh, my, you are so beautiful.’ ” Celeste smiled. “That was the moment I gave you my heart.”

Roel reached over and pulled her to him and engaged in a long, lingering kiss.

Celeste then retrieved and spread the covers over them both, and she went to sleep cradled in his arms.

Roel stayed awake scant moments longer, gazing at this remarkable woman and wondering why she had chosen him. But even as he marveled, he fell asleep as well.

The next morn after breakfast, Gilles met the lovers and insisted Roel accompany him for a change of bandage and a dose of a needed medick.

“Another tasty concoction?” asked Roel.

“Oh, even better than those I have given you ere now,” said Gilles, rubbing his hands together and cackling.

Roel looked at Celeste, and she said, “Take your medicine, Sieur Knight. Me, I have business to attend to with Captain Anton.”

After Gilles’ ministrations and another odious drink, at Roel’s request the healer led the knight to the armory, and there Roel found his leathers waiting-cleaned and ready to wear. Several of the bronze plates-plates damaged during the melee with the outlaws-had been replaced on his armored jacket, and the cut on his leggings had been repaired as well.

“I’m feeling a bit out of practice, Gilles. Would it be acceptable for me to exercise at swords?” Gilles frowned. “No swift moves, Roel. No great effort expended.” Roel spent much of the morning slow-stepping through his sword drill; he did so under the eyes of Gilles and two of the stableboys, who spent much of the time clapping and ooh ing and ahh ing over Roel’s silver-flashed sword.

Just ere the noontide, a page came looking for Roel.

“Sieur,” the lad said, “my lady the princess requests your company on a ride through the woodland. She waits in the stable.”