Gift of God: Lady Godiva - Chapter 28

“I could barely endure simply keeping you near… so I only held on tighter.”

The vulnerability Leofric revealed did not weaken him in Godiva’s eyes, it struck her more deeply than strength ever could.

“I love you.”

In her husband, Godiva saw light.

A small, trembling sound escaped her. Like a young sapling reaching toward the sun, she lifted her hands toward him.

“Godiva.”

They bound themselves to one another. Love was a beautiful knot. Leofric drew her into a deep embrace and claimed her lips—more fragrant than any rose in the garden outside.

Sunlight streamed through the window, bright enough to turn her eyes a soft lavender. Her golden hair shimmered cool as the lingering morning air.

“If it’s too much…”

His voice was hushed, almost submerged.

“I’m… all right.”

Her answer was still shy.

“You don’t have to push yourself.”

Once, in a late afternoon when sunlight still lingered, Godiva had wept sorrowfully before him. That day, he had withdrawn his hand. Instead of anger, he had wrapped her, linen and all, in his arms and held her until her tears quieted.

Remembering that, she shook her head.

“I’m… all right now.”

Her fragile reply made him smile faintly, darkness still lingering in his gaze.

“Godiva, crying won’t help.”

“Mm…”

This morning, lying in bed, she looked younger than her years. Even her short, childlike replies were heartbreakingly dear to him. He pressed his lips to her pale brow, breathing in her faint, floral scent.

As he carefully removed her garments, revealing more of her, his jaw tightened. The sunlight had left her skin flushed and tender. To him, it felt like punishment.

She gave a small gasp. The fabric brushing against her sun-warmed skin made her flinch.

“Damn it.”

The shame she had endured seemed to burn beneath her skin, visible in every flush. He lifted the hem of her gown gently, his hand traveling upward—not with hunger, but with concern.

Her rounded heel. Her slender ankle. Her narrow calf. The hidden curve of her thigh…

Then he swore under his breath.

“Leofric… there…”

The saddle had chafed her. Soft skin, rubbed raw by unforgiving leather, reddened and scraped in places where faint traces of blood had dried.

“Ah…”

She tried not to make a sound, but pain betrayed her. She shook her head softly.

“The nanny said it would heal in a few days… Leofric, don’t.”

His breath that felt cool and warm at once, brushed over the tender place. She bit her lip and turned her face aside. It stung, but not unpleasantly.

“If that’s so…”

The sound of his lips touching her skin was soft, yet it echoed in her ears. Godiva stiffened and tried to draw her legs together, but he held her gently in place.

“How fortunate…”

He did not finish the sentence, but she understood the rest.

“I was stained yesterday.”

Her voice was low and steady. He lifted his head and met her gaze.

“There are many tomorrows ahead, Leofric.”

In her clear eyes was nothing but pure love.

The longer he looked at her, the heavier his heart became. He had believed her tender heart valued others above him. He had lashed out, blinded by jealousy, speaking cruel words. Yet she had endured what she did without reproach—and had not left him.

Instead, she spoke of greater love.

“I am unworthy of you.”

She shook her head and cupped his cheek.

“I love you.”

With that aching confession, her red lips touched his. His heart thundered in his head. It was the first kiss he had ever received from his gentle wife.

“Godiva…”

Her name broke roughly against her lips.

A soft breath. The whisper of fabric.

“I love you.”

Beneath the sunlight, Godiva lay pale and luminous, her heart now wholly his. He kissed every place he could see, moving slowly, reverently, as though honoring something sacred.

Her violet eyes brimmed with tears. His silver eyes were wet as well.