I stand near the training field, Felicity beside me as we watch Carrick and Sanson engage in sword play, now that the warriors are done training for the day. Sanson is two summers and follows his father everywhere, never letting go of the miniature wooden sword his father had made for him. The sword is with him except at the table for meals, and even that was a dispute until Carrick explained that Papa was allowed his sword at the table because he was taller than I was.

"When you are taller than your lady mother, then we shall reconsider the matter."

And when Papa or Mama spoke, Sanson had no choice but to listen.

Felicity, now just over three summers, tugged on my hand. "Is it my turn yet, Mama?"

"I believe it is," I told her, then gave Carrick the signal. She quickly hopped over the lowest bar of the fence and Sanson stepped back from his place with nary a grumble and came to stand in front of me, still on the inside of the fence. He clutched his little sword tightly while we watched Felicity, with her own miniature sword -- detailed with flowers, as she had insisted -- spar with her Papa. He allowed her to strike his leg with her sword and pretended great pain.

"My tiny lady is a fearsome warrior, Calissande. Thank goodness it is not both of them against me!"

At that, Sanson rushed out and together he and his sister attacked their Papa with bloodcurdling shrieks of glee. I smiled at them, thinking about the changes in Carrick over the years. My warrior was still very much a warrior, but his children and I received his smiles all the time and he was a most involved father. He said he liked to wear them out so they would sleep well and we could have some time alone in our chambers.

I have told Carrick that our daughter will never be married to a man who would keep a camaspoza, nor will Sanson or any of our children be involved in the horrible tradition.

"I am of a like mind about that, Calissande, and rest assured that I would not allow it." He looked at me and grinned, his eye full of deviltry.

"If needs be, I would take any suitors aside and explain to them that a lady wife is no fragile flower and can be fucked roughly to her enjoyment and his. I will describe in great detail to them the wonders beyond anything of bedding your lady wife in many and various manners and disabuse them of the notion that a lady should not be treated thusly. I may even wax poetic about the much greater enjoyment there is to be had in the marital bed when your lady is a dirty little vixen, complete with all the accompanying noises that make your cock harder than it has ever been in your life. Then --"

"That is enough, Carrick," I chide him primly, still able to blush at my warrior's words though he tossed them at me constantly.

I know exactly what follows when he begins talking like that, and we do not have much time before the nooning meal. Carrick has given standing orders that we are not to be disturbed in our room unless one of the children has true need of us, and everyone is welcome to eat if we are late. Jannip and Mrs. Keystone are most excellent at distracting our two wild ones when needed.

Once I realized that coming late to the meals was becoming a habit, I finally told him that his hard cock was no reason to make everyone delay their meal. He arched a brow at me and reminded me that I was just as often the culprit making us late.

"I speak only the truth, Calissande. There is nothing better than being able to fuck your lady wife in all the ways you always dreamed of. I vow, when I am inside of you, it is like no other feeling on earth."

His eyes were hot on me, and I knew I had to try to make my escape if we had any hope of making the nooning meal. Heading toward the door, my husband was faster and he rested his massive bulk against the only way out of the room.

"I think we shall both be late for our meal again, Calissande," he informed me, crossing his arms across that broad chest of his I loved so well.

"Now, my lady, I think today I will have you start out on your back on the bed. Lift your skirts. I believe I shall get started on my meal early, for there is nothing I like better in my mouth than that juicy cunt of yours."

I pretended to sigh. So far this week, we have been late for the nooning meal four times.

"Very well, my warrior," I said as I worked my way onto the bed, "I am merely your lady wife. Far be it from me to deny my lord husband his every last wish."

He stripped off his shirt and then shot me a wicked, wicked smile while he untied his breeches. "Every last one, my Calissande. Every last one."

When we finally made it down to the common room, the meal was almost over, and many had already left their seats. We passed many knowing smiles and some light laughter hidden behind hands. I no longer even minded, they have become so commonplace. Of course everyone knows why the lord and lady are late, and I have heard rumors that there are friendly wagers on how many times during the week we shall be late. One bold maid once whispered to me that she needed one more time to win the week's wager, and could I please...? Since I liked her very well, I grinned at her and later that day ensured she would win.

Today, as Carrick held my chair out for me at the table, a messenger from the king -- so known by the purple cord tying his cape at the neck -- walked up to my lord and, with a bow, handed him a missive.

"My lord Carrington," he said in a low voice, "the King requests that you respond immediately to his message. He would have your advice on a delicate matter of state."

Carrick read the missive once, twice, a frown growing on his face. Then he walked off toward his private room with the messenger with just a bow to me and an apology kiss to my forehead.

Less than an hour later, I saw the messenger leaving on a horse, galloping hell for leather to return my husband's words to the king.

When he returned to me, I signaled to the serving maid to bring a warmed plate of food for my lord husband.

In the last few years, Carrick has made me his unofficial advisor. Much like my mother is for my father, I listen to his concerns and give him my opinion. He discusses matters with me, even delicate ones such as the ones that occurred today, but he waits until we are in our bed chamber.

It is yet another level of trust he displays in me that warms me as much as the closeness we share in bed does.

"I do not know why anyone should be surprised that I trust you with matters great and small, Calissande. You are wise and intelligent and thoughtful -- and although you have not improved greatly with taking orders from me as does my horse -- I have great hopes that you can eventually learn."

I pushed him to the bed at that teasing comment, and he laughed at me, enjoying my response when he riled me up. With his arms around me, he pushed himself over me.

"Things in Giljan are heating up," he said quietly in my ear. "The king believes we can still stop a war in the north. As you well know, my older brother Jasque lives there, and that is not by chance. He has been playing a most detested role there for the last three years, and I have advised my king that it is time to have my brother make his move."

"Is your brother in danger?" I whispered to him.

"He will be now, if the king takes my advice."

"Well he should, because you are the smartest person I know," I breathed into his ear. "Next to me, of course."

Carrick reared back and roared with laughter.

"You are perfection, my Calissande, and I love you beyond my life."

I whispered my love to him, and he kissed me deeply, both of us rejoicing in our happiness.