Chapter 29
“Leo…”
This was what a blessing felt like.
Godiva finally understood what it meant to love wholly. A body laid bare without shame, the pale light of morning, even the husband she once feared for wanting her too fiercely, none of it was an obstacle now. Everything felt dear.
“Leofric…”
Even speaking his name so freely was a blessing.
The curtains stirred softly.
“Godiva.”
The moment he spoke her name, Leofric came closer—deeply, completely.
A small cry slipped from her lips.
She gripped his broad shoulders—not the sheets as before, but him. Solid, warm, real beneath her hands.
It hurt—but it was not only pain. Something swelled inside her chest, filled her until she felt dizzy with it. The weight of him pressing her down was no longer frightening. It was precious. For the first time, she was glad she was a woman—glad she was the woman who could hold him.
“Leofric…”
Her tear-bright eyes and flushed lips struck through his rough heart.
“You are to me…”
Within her embrace, he looked down at her—gold hair clinging damp to her brow, eyes hazed with heat, cheeks flushed. Entirely his.
“A gift from God.”
Slowly, deeply, he held her close—reverent rather than hurried. Her body trembled beneath him.
“Godiva.”
Gift of God, Godiva that was her name.
“I love you.”
Leofirc drew her nearer and entered deeper. The rhythmic breath was luscious as he kissed her. The warmth rising between them was something even he had never known.
Her body seemed to melt, heart and flesh alike. She clung to him, breath ragged, as if she might dissolve entirely. And at last, she knew she was inside love.
* * *
Two years later.
The sky was clear, but Leofric’s heart was not. Gray with worry, he urged his horse faster. Coventry Castle was still far, and Godiva farther still.
“My lord. The river has swollen from the storm. The bridge has collapsed.”
Even as Brandel reported the scout’s words, Leofric’s expression hardened.
“It will take at least half a day to rebuild.”
Half a day felt endless.
“Brandel. I ride ahead.”
“My lord—what do you mean?”
King Cnut had summoned him to war three months prior. Now Leofric, Earl of Mercia, was returning victorious. Brandel understood his lord’s haste. But the alternate path was dangerous, cutting through a treacherous gorge, even if the Countess was in labor.
“The rest is yours to command.”
“You cannot go alone.”
Brandel moved to block him.
“Brandel?”
“I ride with you. Lambert can handle the men.”
They had fought side by side for years, closer than brothers. Leofric met the hard gaze of the scarred knight.
“Very well.”
* * *
“Miss, just a little more strength.”
It was a difficult labor.
For two days and nights, Godiva had endured. The child seemed poised to come, yet would not.
“You mustn’t collapse now. Just a little more…”
Everyone endured childbirth, they said. She had believed she would too. But this pain was beyond words. It was simply pain—overwhelming, consuming.
“Nanny, the Earl…”
“He has won a great victory and is on his way home. You must hold on, Miss. When he returns, you must place the baby in his arms.”
Her consciousness wavered again. How many times had she faded and returned? She could no longer count.
“Miss…”
“Nanny… the baby…”
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