~𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖑 𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌~
Born the youngest daughter of Charles I, Duke of Bourbon, Constance of Bourbon grows up amidst comfort and splendour on her powerful family's estates in France. A shy child, she prefers her...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~Flames of the Future~
29th of June, 1484, Middleham....
Thrice she'd been to his bed.
She wished it were more but that was not possible, those three times held risk enough. Both Alice and Martha had remarked on the new bloom of healthy colour in her cheeks, the new sparkle to her eyes and lightness in her laugh.
She'd told them it was due to the freedom they'd claimed that past week and Constance hoped they would think no more of it! After all, it wasn't entirely a falsehood!
She relished the moments she and Richard could afford, basking in his affection, and on the third night she lay beside him in his bed, on her front, head on his chest, their intertwined bodies and the thin sheet that covered them, lit by the glow of the fire.
She looked up at him, hands resting beneath her chin, his fingers gently massaging the crown of her head, and smiled. He was so utterly lovely, she thought, as she watched him stare up at the canopy: relaxed, happy. She wanted to remember every inch of his face.
They'd both been well satisfied in the past hours. It was about three in the morning she estimated, only two hours or so left, which meant both were determined to evade sleep. Being so comfortable in one another's company and so warm it proved a rather difficult task but at least they had locked all the doors so no one could enter unannounced.
It made them feel even more disconnected from the real world. With the doors bolted, they were in their own secret haven where no misfortune or misery could touch them. They had only one another and that was all they wanted, all they needed.
She chuckled when a certain thought crossed her mind. Richard glanced down at her. "What is it, sweetheart?" "I hope you did not covet me while I was your brother's wife" She replied with a grin "I do remember well the way you looked when I came down the stairs in Burgundy" He raised his eyebrows, resting his head back again and smiling.
"I doubt there is a man alive that would've been able to claim his words, except perhaps a blind one. I for one was certainly glad I could see, even more so now" His fingers trailed down her head to draw gentle patterns on her shoulders and back, the roughness of their calloused tips pleasant against her soft skin. Constance hummed. She had certainly been beautiful that night.
"I never imagined I would be any man's mistress" She murmured. That was what she was, she supposed, she was a women who had lain with a man who was not not her husband. But it was different too, she thought, their partnership was not the same as Edward and Jane Shore's had been or God forbid he and Elizabeth's! No, he had not taken her as his mistress, she was no whore!
