Gift of God: Lady Godiva - Chapter 3

“You are—more clearly than anything else I possess…”

Godiva felt a quiet sorrow rise within her.

“…you’re mine.”

As vast lands were his, as immense power was his, so too was Godiva the possession of Leofric, Earl of Mercia.

Yet she did not wish to belong in that way. What did it matter if a body destined to wither with age belonged to no one? To a woman of deep faith, the soul held far greater worth. However beautiful the body, it would not endure. But a beautiful soul would never wear away, never fade—eternal and untouchable.

“Even now.”

Leofric pulled back her bliaut with force. The silk slipped smoothly aside, revealing the curve of her shoulder. His hand closed over her slender form, gathering the fine fabric. He pushed aside the chemise as well.

The neckline of her silver-embroidered tunic loosened and fell, exposing the rounded swell of one b****t flushed a pale rose. A blush that was so wholly Godiva—so tender—that he bent and claimed it with his mouth.

“Ah—”

Leofric’s tongue traced the small peak, and when her delicate shoulders flinched back, he held her firmly in place. Ignoring her shyness, he pressed further, tasting the warmth of her skin.

“Leo—”

Godiva shuddered. Her nanny had called it pleasure, but to her young heart, it still felt more frightening than sweet. Beneath skin whiter than snow and softer than petals, her dark hair spilled across her chest.

Even now, her husband felt distant to her. On the bed, he seemed farther still.

“Again?”

Leofric lifted his head. His lips were darker than usual, stained by where they had touched. Godiva flushed without meaning to.

“No, I…”

There was nowhere to hide. She shrank back helplessly.

“Yes. You are still young.”

“Please…”

The last of her garment slipped away. Half-bared, she stood before him, and he buried his face in the fragrant warmth of her chest. Beneath the soft flesh, her heart beat wildly like a frightened creature—and that too, he believed, belonged to him.

“Godiva, I am a man.”

Abruptly, Leofric straightened. He seized both her arms, fingers lacing tightly around hers. She was trapped.

“There is no other way.”

She gasped as his grip tightened painfully.

“You must grow into it.”

“Ah, stop…”

He stripped her completely, peeling away the layered softness of her garments until her bare form stood revealed in the candlelight. In war and in politics, nothing had ever unsettled him. Only this moment could disturb his composure, when Godiva was beneath him.

“I will not let you go, not until God takes my time from this world.”

He pressed her down, his body covering hers.

“I will never go anywhere—”

Godiva could not finish. Beneath his weight, her words—and even her thoughts—were stolen. His lips were like a spell. Her vision blurred as though ringed by moonlight.

“Anywhere…”

Her mother had said love did not exist. Her nanny had said it never lasted. Godiva did not know what that boundless thing truly was. Yet even if she could not find it within her marriage, she had no thought of leaving his side. Already, she had turned toward him as a sunflower to the sun.

“Godiva.”

He always spoke her name that way. Slowly, deeply, as though seeking something in her with those silver-gray eyes; as though shaping something precious upon his lips. Each time, her heart ached.

“Yes, Leofric.”

As on every night, she answered softly. Not once had she told him no. Even when her body ached unbearably, she could not resist those deep-set eyes. She closed her own gently.

Rustle.

The bed curtains stirred.

A sharp sound—her pale wrist bent under his grasp.

“Ah…”

A bitten-off moan, and the scent of night deepened.

* * *

“Miss.”

“….”

“Miss Godiva…”

Later, in the bath, her pale body lay exposed to the sunlight—and across it bloomed the marks Leofric had left. Immersed in the water, she said nothing. Her nanny softly called her precious name once more.