Shadow of the Swan by Judith Sterling

Author:Judith Sterling [Sterling, Judith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, midieval, Historical Romance, Medieval, Paranormal, magical realism, damaged heroine, knight, haunting past, Ghost, traumatic past, healing
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2017-12-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

They retired to the bedchamber and peeled off layers of clothing until all that remained was her chemise and his breeches. Constance willed her gaze from Robert’s torso to his eyes as he approached.

He halted an arm’s length away. “Thank you for your honesty…and your trust.”

She grinned. “Thank you for marrying me.”

His dimples appeared. “My pleasure.”

Pleasure. The word hung in the air between them like a watchful, seductive spirit.

She held her breath. What is he thinking? Will he kiss me?

He hesitated, then stepped forward and leaned closer. His lips connected with her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

His nearness was at once a balm and a temptation. But I’m not ready!

“Good night, Constance.” His breath was hot on her flesh.

She found her voice. “Good night.”

He pulled away and strode toward the bed.

My dear Robert, you are patience incarnate. She hastened toward her side of the bed and sighed as the feather mattress embraced her weary frame. ’Twas a glorious thing to lie down with a clear conscience. Finally! Within minutes, she slipped into sleep.

For the next week, their bedtime ritual followed a similar pattern. He kissed her forehead and said good night. Sometimes they talked in bed about the day’s activity; sometimes not. For the most part, she was content. But she couldn’t help comparing their situation to the fervid affair between Alice and Guy. The squire made nightly visits to the handmaiden’s chamber while Meg busied herself elsewhere.

The comfort of friendship versus the passion of love. The latter appealed to Constance, more with each passing day.

At week’s end, shortly before supper, she stood alone on the bridge above Woden’s Pond. A swan glided across the calm water, creating symmetrical ripples that stretched beyond the bird’s wake.

With head tilted, Constance followed its progress. Our actions influence everything around us, just as the swan affects the pond.

Her revelation about Dominy certainly changed Robert. He showed even more courtesy than before, treating her almost like a harp with worn strings which might snap if played. She wanted to make music. At least, she wanted to try. But his gallantry seemed to know no bounds.

She frowned and wiped the sweat from her brow. Why should that bother me? Her lips twisted. Because I fear he’s lost interest.

Had he? Could any man truly possess such restraint? He demonstrated it at every bedtime. Every single one. What if it continued? For weeks. Months. Forever and ever, amen.

A sudden chill commanded the air. Shivering, she rubbed her arms, then felt compelled to look down.

The undulating water warped her reflection. Might it also bend reality and grant her another vision? Nothing like that had ever happened to her, not until the day of the help-ale. And though it seemed strange, her heart insisted an experience so profound must derive from the mind of God, that source of all creation to which she’d always gravitated.

She knelt for a closer view and waited. As she stared, a new picture emerged.

The pond at dusk, enshrouded in fog. Robert, standing naked before her with his proud, stiff manhood.

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