❝you think Achilles was of impressive descent?
touch me one more time❞
The one where King Edward IV is captivated by Charlotte Neville and their love has far-reaching consequences. For Charlotte had a place in Edward's heart no one could tear her fr...
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Anne Beauchamp was waiting for Charlotte when she entered her chambers, chatting over her shoulder with Isabel and Marie.
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Her stepmother demanded, rising to her feet. She'd been sitting on the bed, sorting through Charlotte's chest of gowns, but discarded the activity in favor of reprimanding her stepdaughter. "Your father and I have told you —"
"I was with Duchess Cecily and her daughters all day, Lady Anne, and the Duke of Clarence as well. I thought it would be good to spend some time with my family-to-be."
"Edward is not your intended," Anne hissed, looming over Charlotte as best she could.
"He says otherwise."
The slap came so quickly that even Isabel, who was used to her mother's moods, was taken aback by it. Mercifully, none of Anne's rings cut into Charlotte's cheek, but her face stung from the blow.
"Curb your insolent tongue," she snapped. "You will not leave your room for the rest of the week, is that understood?"
Charlotte nodded, fighting back tears, and stepped aside to let her stepmother leave.
Anne slammed the door in her wake, and Marie ushered Charlotte down onto the stool at the dressing table to check her cheek.
"If anyone asks, you tell them I fell," she said flatly, meeting Isabel's eyes and pleading silently that she would not raise the issue with her father, or worse, with Edward. "And we pray that it doesn't bruise too badly, yes?"
─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────
Charlotte woke slowly the following morning to the feel of Edward's fingers trailing up and down her spine.
"Are you ticklish?" He murmured as she squirmed under his touch.
"No," she lied, stretching up to kiss him before he could test the truth of her statement.
A long while later, he leaned up on his elbow and traced the line of her collarbone as he said, "You never did tell me where you learned to kiss like that."
She laughed and mirrored his position, reaching out to follow the shape of his jaw while it was still bare of his beard — she could feel stubble under her fingers as they rubbed across his skin.
"I think you know more about kissing I do," she said archly. "Where did you learn to kiss?"
"Eleanor Talbot, when we were... I would have been twelve, I suppose."
Her hand fell away from his face.
"She would be Shrewsbury's daughter?"
"He thought to marry her to me," Edward explained, frowning slightly. "Until the offer came from the Butlers. Their heir was more appropriate in age. Still, she was older and more experienced. And, oh, she was beautiful."
