Joan Champernowne Chamber.

Anthony awoke in the morning to the sound of rain on the window, the sky grey and bleak. He had Joan in his arms, her hair spilling over her chest. He glanced down to her, kissed her forehead and then removed himself from beneath her. He pulled on his breeches and began to rekindle the the fire.

Anthony glanced up from the fire, crouching upon the floor. He smiled, favouring her hair the way it was in the mornings - unruly and tumbling around her face.

"The King has asked if we will go with him and Anne to France..."

He shrugged, "I suppose they are forming a new alliance with France."

He gathered himself up from the floor and moved to the bed, leaning over to kiss her neck, "It could be a chance for us to get away. I could show you my old haunts in France..."

He laughed, "I shall show you only the finest places and stay away from the unsavoury spots I travelled to."

He glanced up, holding her gaze for a moment. For what seemed like months, they were smiling genuinely at one another. Her cheeks flushed and dewy, his eyes bright and mind clear. Perhaps their troubles had drifted as they slept - he didn't care and simply kissed her forehead quickly

He laughed heartily, feigning hurt, "You mean to say you are not madly in love with me already?"

He looked up to her and perched by her upon the bed, "You shall like it I think. It's certainly warmer there - more exciting than here."

He tilted his head for a moment and thought. Finally he replied, wrapping his arm around her, "It is like I am younger and you are older ... we meet somewhere in the middle and there is love. I feel content when before I constantly had an ... itch to leave, a compulsion to keep moving ... now I'm calm. I would be glad to retire to Cornwall when I am old with you. I am content, Joan. "

He smiled and held her close, thinking how strange it was that they now they like a married couple. He didn't think he'd ever spoken in bed with a woman before, not least, a girl like Joan. Once she had settled at his shoulder her held one arm behind his head, the other wrapped casually over her shoulder.

"There shall be less hard days as soon as the King marries Anne. Then with luck we shall all have peace," he mumbled, his chin resting upon her soft dark curls.

He paused for a moment and added curiously, "Joan...what do you first think of me when we met?"

He smirked and began mischievously, "Even," he glanced down to her body which lay beside him, "If I already had a wife...you would be my mistress?"

He smirked to himself, there was something satisfying about her answer - it provided an answer he wasn't even aware he wanted.

"I would have divorced," he said playfully as she came atop him, "I would have taken you to be mine - to hell with all else."

He chuckled, his icy blues eyes looking into hers, "Well," he began mischievously and held his arms behind his head, "Once we arrive in France you and I shall be quite at our leisure."

He added, "I like how we are just fine now...but I think you would have made a fine maîtresse-en-titre."

He had never really done what they were doing in that moment. He had never lain with a woman in bed and just spoke with her. Yet, there was something in the way Joan spoke to him that made him feel that everything he said she listened to and even though he lusted after her body, their was love this time too.

He laughed heartily but as she kissed his legs he went quiet, "Then you are my wife no longer now," he said playfully under his breath.

He kept his gaze on her and bit his lip when she touched his manhood, he could feel himself harden to her touch. He sat up a little, one hand touched her neck so he brought her face closer to his, "Let me make you come," he whispered against her lips.