Warning-this is going to be a bit smutty, but its also meant to be a bit of fun. Is set just before 'All For Christ'. Hope you all enjoy.

Thomas was talking as our coach travels through the dark German countryside. It was late and we are returning from a banquet at Court in celebration of the birth of the Duke's son. It was my first time out of the house, since giving birth to our own son Daniel and I had greatly enjoyed once having my freedom back and speaking with adults, having spent the evening in conversation with the wives of some of the Courtiers, (I never thought I see the day when I could hold a conversation in a foreign language); whilst Thomas had spent the evening in conversation with some English merchants, hoping to bypass some of the trade laws. I didn't mind us spending little time with each other at the party, but as we sit in the coach, I wish he would stop talking about the wool trade.

'So given that the price...'

'Thomas!' I cry, no longer able to take much more talk about the price of English wool in the various capitals of Europe, so I quickly wrap my arms around his neck, before kissing him as deeply as I could. At first Thomas was just frozen there with shock, but soon his arms are around my waist and his tongue deep in my mouth. Our bodies press against each other, causing me to feel desire running through my blood. It was almost seven months since we had last made love, due to my pregnancy and my body healing itself from the shock of birth, but now it was healed and I was ready to once again welcome my husband back inside my bed.

'You're in playful mood tonight,' smiles Thomas slyly as he pulls me on to his lap and running his fingers up and down my top half of my dress as I sit there.

'Am I?' I reply with an innocent smile, pulling the stomacher of my dress down slightly, revealing the roundness of my breasts-much to the delight of my husband, 'I was not aware,'

'You know I can never resist you in that dress, Bathsheba,' Thomas groans, pulling me towards him. Its true, I know he can't resist me in my red silk gown, (the first time I wore it, resulted in Daniel's appearance nine months later), which clings to my body in all the right places-thankfully the babies have only helped my curves, rather than hinder them. He brushes my hair to the side, leaning forward about to let his lips dance across my neck, but as the coach turns a corner, my husband suddenly pulls away, 'what the Hell?'

He tries to move away to the window, but I pull him back, tightening my arm around his neck and pushing my body as hard as can against my husband's, straddling him around the waist as I do so.

'Shh,' I smooth, my fingers playing with the black curls on at the top of his neck, 'just relax. We are not going home tonight,'

'Bathsheba,' he answers, with a raised eyebrow, 'what are you plotting? You know I hate surprises!'

'And yet, Lord Cromwell,' I whisper, nibbling at the base of his ear, before moving down in his neck, kissing his skin, occasion letting my teeth graze his flesh as I try to control my own desire whilst increasing his, 'you always end up enjoying them. Now I haven't been a good wife recently. I have been neglecting my poor husband,'

As I speak, I take one arm away from his neck and let my fingers unbutton his doublet and loosening his shirt, giving my mouth and tongue a lot more skin to explore.

'You have had our son to care for,' he gasps, stroking my hair as I continue to kiss the base of his neck, remembering how much I love feeling his skin against my lips, 'not to mention the girls,'

'That's my duty as a mother but I am speaking of my duty as a wife,' I reply, moving my lips back up to his, so they are almost touching, while I tighten my hold on his waist, pressing my body so hard against his, that I can soon feel that my body as achieved my desired effect. With the best innocent smile I can manage, I loosen my grip on my husband's hips. He looks at me slightly startled, as in his blue eyes, I can see desire creeping into them, though he is trying to fight it but as I move my hand away from neck, I pretend to let it gradually fall away, but as I do, I let it brush against his manhood, which is as hard as rock and longing to be freed from his breeches, 'my, I have neglected you! Well, let's see if we can't put that right,'

With the hand I just let fall, I reach for the ribbons of his breeches but as I'm about to pull the thread, he gently takes hold of my wrist.

'Bathsheba, I cannot,' he laughs, stroking my hair with his other hand, 'we will be heard. Let just wait until we reach our destination, then we will have all night to ourselves,'

He is fighting. He is still thinking he is back at court, having to play the role of the Courtier with a heart of stone, but I too play a long and nodded my head willing.

'No you are right,' I smile, kissing Thomas gently on the lips and take my legs away from his waist, 'except it's more fun this way!'

'Bathsheba?'

Before he can do anything, I return my mouth straightaway to his, kissing him deeply, before pulling away as he responds, placing my lips once again on the base of his neck, pushing my hair against his flesh. He can never resist me once he feels my lose hair, many a times over the years a simple kiss has turned into a bout of loving making, because he has been unable to control himself after feeling my wild curls against him.

'You've undone my ribbons,' I smile, looking up at him, making my cat like green eyes, wide and pure, 'I though you didn't want us be heard,'

'I sure you can be quiet, when you want to be, Lady Cromwell,' he laughs, placing a hand on the side of my face and guiding my lips to his, but as he leans in to kiss me, I move quickly away. I loosen the ribbons of my dress even more, so that its creeps off my shoulders slightly and he smiles as he sees the tips of my breasts, thinking he knows whats coming next, but he is wrong. I lean forward to kiss and he leans forward to meet me, but as our lips touch, I once again break away. Painfully slowly, I run my lips down his neck and then down his still clothed chest, pressing my almost naked breasts hard against him, sliding off the seat, so that I am kneeling on the coach's floor and feeling its rocking motions through my body, as I lean forward and untie his breeches.

'Bathsheba?' he sounds almost puzzled as he speaks, but gasping as he feels himself freed from the tight fabric.

'Oh I won't be heard, Lord Cromwell,' I whisper, resting a hand on either of his knees as I lean forward, 'but you will be,'

Before he can react, I lean even more forward, before slowly taking my husband's warm, hard manhood in my mouth.

'Christ, Bathsheba!' he groans, as I let my tongue dance around him, caressing every inch as I moved up and down the shaft, 'oh God!'

I carry on with my movements for a few more strokes, enjoying hearing his gasps of shock and pleasure. I have never performed this act on any man, other than my husband, for he is the only man worthy of such attention-Anthony certainly never had such an act performed on him by me.

'Do you like, Lord Cromwell?' I ask, withdrawing with a smile as I look up at him, 'would you like me to continue?'

'Yes,' he pants in frustration, his eyes looking at me in stunned desperation as if he's a child, having had his favourite toy taking away from him. As much as part of me wants to laugh, I am a good wife, who hates to see her husband in distress, so I lean forward to ease his pain, 'dear God! Sweet Jesus!'

As I move my mouth up and down his manhood in perfect rhyme, I flick my eyes up at my husband. His head his bent back, bracing himself, so I can't look into Thomas' eyes, but I can see his teeth, biting hard on the flesh of his bottom lips, as he tries desperately to control himself. Feeling a sense of satisfaction, I once again look down and return my full attention to pleasing my husband.

'Christ!' he hisses, through his teeth as my tongue slides up and down him, causing his shaft to throb even more as he gradually places a trembling hand on top of my head, placing his fingers in my lose hair, 'my…my Bathsheba!'

Soon he is close, as his manhood is pulsating to the brink and out of the corner of my eye, I see the knuckles off his right hand turn white as he tightens his hold on the seat. With the other hand he strokes my hair, causing desire to well up in me, as does the rough rocking motion of the coach and images of my husband taking me in the tavern's bedchamber, start to dancing before my eyes.

'Sweet Jesus! Bathsheba!…Christ!…my beautiful Bathsheba!'

'Did you have a pleasant rid, sir?' asks Franz, the foot man as me and Thomas climb out of our coach and head towards the inn. I laugh as he speaks, as I see the mischievous tinkle in his eye, but poor Thomas, still in a state of shock, doesn't see the funny side.

'We will have words tomorrow,' mutters Thomas, his eyes darkening slightly, but before he can say any more to 'poor' Franz, I grab hold of his arm and guide him towards the tavern door.

The Green Knight is probably the only tavern in Europe, (except maybe in Calais) to have an English name. The reason being is that its owned by an Englishman, who ran away to Europe at an earlier age, married a German girl and made his fortune. For The Green Knight is no ordinary tavern. It is the place of rest for every important courtier, diplomat and noblemen or women travelling across the continent and having become quite good friends with the owner's wife over the years, I had managed to secure us a room for the evening –despite the fact it was further away from Court, than our home.

'Would you like any supper, Lady Cromwell?' smiles Helene, the owner's daughter as we stand in the hall, 'I can easily have the kitchen prepare something,'

'No, thank you but we would like some wine,' I reply, as kindly as I can, for I was just longing to get to our chamber, 'and please don't bother your serving girls, I will take the wine up myself,'

She nods her head as we exchange smiles, before setting off to retrieve the wine and two wine glass, walking down the richly decorated hall, with its various flags and symbols of the countries of Europe hanging from the ceiling before disappearing behind a door.

'Bathsheba,' whispers Thomas, as he comes up behind me and places an arm around my waist, 'you could try to be a lot less bold,'

'I thought that was one of things you loved about me, Thomas or at least you did in the coach,' I smile, turning around in his arms and placing my arms around his neck, 'and if I haven't been that certain year, we wouldn't be standing here today,'

Thomas returns my smile and kisses me gently on the lips, before pulling away and looking straight in my eyes. As he does this, he suddenly seems sad, as he remembers that terrible time, which almost torn our family apart.

'And I will always be thankful,' he says, brushing a lock of my hair behind my ear, 'if it had not been for you, I would…'

'Shsh,' I hush, putting a finger to his lips, 'lets not speak…'

'I heard rumours, that you were here, Tommy,' suddenly comes the sound of a voice in crystal English, which interrupts me and Thomas, causing us both to turn round and see a richly dressed woman standing in the hall, a small grin on her face, 'but I did not think you would come to see me,'

I look her up and down, wondering if I know her or at least, to try to figure out why Thomas does. She is older than me and I wager, slightly older than Thomas, with little lines creeping around her blue eyes and some around her top lip-though they are hard to see, through all the make up she has painted on her.

'Isabelle,' laughs Thomas, letting go off me, 'I did not know you where here. Last I heard, you where in Venice,'

'I was,' she smiles, looking my husband straight in the eyes, in a way that causes my blood to start simmering, 'but then my husband was made Ambassador to the English Court and I like the good little wife must follow. But I see what brings you here, Tommy. A night of fun, it seems,'

'Hello,' I say, going up to the two of them and placing an arm, tight around my husband's waist, 'I'm Bathsheba, Lord Cromwell's wife,'

She looks me up and down, one of her thinly plucked eyebrows raised high, her bright red lips smirking as she views me. It takes all my strength not to raise a fist in anger, but I want nothing to spoil this evening, especially as I see Helene return with wine and goblets.

'Lady Cromwell...really? How extraordinary?' she replies, wrinkling up her nose as she glances at me, before turning her attention once again on Thomas with a wide smile and a quick squeeze of his arm, 'it is good to see old friends, is it not, Thomas? And you are looking so well?

'So,' I say, as casually as I can manage as I pour out the wine, 'how do you know that harpy?'

'Bathsheba!' laughs Thomas, sitting down on the edge of the large bed, 'that is not very nice,'

'But its true,' I answer, still feeling slightly annoyed by that woman's treatment of me, especially at the way she had implied that I was simple a mistress, 'she looked like mutton dressed as lamb in that dress. And I wager, she probably sent most of life on her back, staring at various ceilings!'

Thomas continues to laugh as I go over to the bed and hand him a goblet of wine, as I sit down next to him and take a slip of the spicy red liquid.

'How do you know her, Thomas,' I tease, running a finger around the rime of my glass, as I cross my legs, in a manner that causes my skirt to swish up, revealing my stockings, 'are you one of the many she got on her back for or did she just want to ride you...or did you want to?'

With a sly smile, Thomas slides of the bed and knells before me, taking the goblet out of my hand and placing it down by the side of the bed, next to his. Slowly, he uncrosses my legs and starts to runs his hands up and down them, causing me to sigh as I feels his hands gently caress my skin.

'Do you like?' he whispers, pulling me towards him and kissing the base of my neck, 'my beautiful Bathsheba?'

'You could be a little rougher,' I moan, putting my fingers in his black curls as his lips continue to stroke my sensitive neck, while his hands obey my order, but I still want answers, 'Thomas, you haven't answered my question,'

'She's the daughter of an English merchant, who I was staying with when I was living in Florence,' says Thomas, pulling away from my neck, but his hands continue to cause little moans to escape from my lips, 'they married her off to an Italian wine merchant, who has since died and she is now married to the new Venetian Ambassador to England...and at this moment, there is only one woman I want on her back,'

With that Thomas flips me on to the bed, before climbing on top of me, resting his forehead on top of mine. Both of us are breathing heavily, as months of pent up desire come spilling from us.

'God, I want you!'

'Well, no one's stopping you, Lord Cromwell,'

Soon our lips are locked and our tongues deep in each others mouths, locked in battle. The last time we made love, was when I was four months gone with Daniel, it was less than a year ago but at this moment, as I rip my husband's doublet and shirt off of him, it feels as though it was life time since we were last one.

'I wanted this for months,' moans Thomas, pulling me up slightly as he once again loosens my dress and starts pushing it down my heat flushed body, 'God, the dreams I have had!'

'Well, here's on more!'

With all my strength, I push him on to back, straddling him as I push my dress down around my waist, not as slowly as I would want because all I now want is my husband.

'Do you like?' I purr, leaning forward and running kisses down his chest, ' would you like me to free you?'

'Yes,' he gasps, as my lips get closer to his breeches, 'yes, Isabe...Bathsheba!'

Part two coming soon ;)