Entering the room he walked quickly to her bedside. “Are you really asleep, beauty?”
“No, Alexander. I am thinking.”
“Of what we spoke about this evening?”
“Yes.”
Without being asked he sat down on her bed. “I have not kissed you in so long,” he said. Reaching out, he drew her into his arms and kissed her gently.
He loosed her, and she said softly, “Is that how you would make love to me, Alexander? I remember my first night in Phocaea when you were far more articulate on much shorter acquaintance. Come, my lord, I am no easily broken toy. If your love is that tame then perhaps I should not marry you. I am no wanton, but even my elderly husband was more vigorous a lover.”
A deep rumble of delighted laughter echoed in the darkness. “So, beauty, you will not be put upon a pedestal and worshiped like some ancient goddess?”
“No, I will not, my lord, for I am a flesh-and-blood woman.”
She heard him moving about and soon one of the lamps by her bed was lit, and then another, and another. “I would see you when I make love to you,” he said, drawing her up from the bed. His fingers swiftly undid the pearl buttons on her caftan, sliding it from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. His own robe quickly followed hers, sliding to the soft rugs.
Falling back on the bed, he held her above him, rubbing his smooth face against her breasts. Then he slowly lowered her, folding her into his strong arms. She sighed deeply. Expertly he reversed their positions, and she suddenly found herself lying beneath him. He gazed down at her and she blushed under his inspection.
“Christos, how beautiful you are,” he muttered hoarsely, and his hands stroked her breasts. His soft fingertips brushed against her skin again and again, and she could feel the familiar tension beginning. He sat up, pulling her back between his legs. He cupped the cones of her breasts, gently pulling and pinching the large coral nipples, and she could feel his maleness butting against her lower back. Now she lay across his lap, and the big hands caressed her belly with a strength of touch that made her shrink slightly.
He laughed softly. “So, beauty, you recognize your master. Did your greybeard husband ever make you feel this way? I’ll wager not! Marry me, my darling, and I will teach you to crave my touch. I can pleasure you as no man can, and no woman will ever please me as you do, beauty.”
“You talk a good deal, my lord,” she mocked him, and his mouth crushed against her lips, bruising them, his white teeth drawing salty blood, his tongue subduing hers. He trailed a path of fiery kisses across her breasts and belly, finding the softness of her inner thighs with his mouth.
Theadora stiffened with shock as his soft, insistent tongue reached where no one had ever ventured. Her body shrank from him, her voice shook with protest. “N-No!”
He raised his head and stared at her, his eyes glazed with passion. “Has no one ever tasted of you, beauty?”
“No!”
“But you are like honey. A woman is sweetest there, beauty.”
“I-it is w-wrong” she managed to gasp. “You must not!”
“Who tells you it is wrong? Does it not give you pleasure, my love? Whom do we hurt? I will soon teach you how to pleasure me in the same sweet way.” Then he lowered his head again and, pushing her legs up and apart, sought again the sweetness he craved.
At first she was tense beneath the velvety, probing tongue, but suddenly a wave of pure pleasure washed through her defenses and she groaned. Deep, deep within her she could feel the tenseness mounting until it was almost unbearable. She was desperate for release, but he withheld it. Instead, he carefully eased off so that the tension receded like a wave. It began to return as he pulled himself up and threw a leg over her.
With the instinct of Eve that is born into every woman she sought for his manhood with her hands and, capturing it, eagerly guided him to her. She wrapped her arms about him. At first he would not enter her but, instead, rubbed the tip of the turgid root against the soft, throbbing flesh until she thought she would scream with the intensity of the pleasure.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see you when we mate.”
Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his, and he slowly entered her, gaining almost as much pleasure from watching the ecstasy that transformed her face, as from the act of possession itself.
To her shame she climaxed almost immediately, and he laughed gently. Tenderly, he said, “Ah, beauty, has it been that long for you? I will teach you how to prolong the pleasure, my darling. No, don’t turn away from me. Don’t you know how much I love you, beauty? Please don’t ever shut yourself away from me.”
From that moment on, her eyes never left his as he moved within her, the tempo of his passion increasing as the minutes passed. Then she surprised him by speaking, and so sensual did he find the sound of her voice that his hot seed thundered into the hidden valley of her womb.
“I will marry with you, my lord Alexander,” she said. “I will marry you, my darling, as soon as it can be arranged.”
Spent, he murmured, “Ah, beauty, how I love you!” and she held him close against her, smiling in the near darkness. He could not know it, for no man ever did-but in the end it was always the woman who was the victor.
In the early dawn he left her, and she slept peacefully and soundly for the first time in months. She had enjoyed his lovemaking very much. It was masterful and experienced, though he never gloated over his masculinity. In bed they were equals, each giving, and each taking.
On the following day they went to the emperor and asked his permission to marry. If John Paleaologi was surprised by this sudden turn of events, one look at Theadora’s face swept away his doubts. All the tension had gone from her. She was radiant.
“I gladly give you permission to wed with my dear sister,” the emperor told the lord of Mesembria. “But you must grant me a boon in return. You must remain in Constantinople while your palace in Mesembria is being rebuilt.”
“Agreed,” grinned Alexander. “There is a lovely villa down on the Bosphorus, at the narrow place between us and Asia. I have long admired it. Its owner recently died. I will arrange to buy it, and we may live there until we return to Mesembria.” He turned to Theadora, “Would that please you, beauty?”
She nodded, smiling. “If you buy me this villa I shall spend a great deal of money furnishing it.”
He chuckled and remarked mischievously, “It will be all right, Theadora. I once had some dealings with your late husband, Sultan Orkhan, and I made a great deal of money in the transaction.”
Theadora burst out laughing. The emperor looked puzzled but Alexander stopped his question by asking, “May we wed tomorrow, Majesty?”
“So soon, my impatient friend? What of the banns? You give us no time for preparations. Thea is, after all, a princess born.”
“I want no festivities, John. When I was wed to my lord Orkhan I was decked out like a heathen idol. There was a two-day festival. I hated it all! I would be married quietly with only you, the priest, and my dear Alexander present. Have the bishop waive the banns. Grant me this, my brother.”
So John Paleaologi acquiesced, and the following day at midmorning Theadora Cantacuzene and Alexander, despot of Mesembria, were wed before the high altar in the Church of St. Mary in Blanchernae. Their only witnesses were the emperor, the bishop who married them, the priest who assisted him, and two altar boys.
At the noonday meal, the emperor brought forth a roar of delight from the diners in the hall when he announced the surprise marriage. Though the noblewomen of the court were disappointed to see Alexander wed so quickly, their men were greatly pleased. Everyone crowded about the newlyweds, congratulating the lord of Mesembria, and claiming kisses from his blushing, rosy bride.