Seducing Anne (12 page)

Her eyes twitched with pain, and there were tears forming. She nodded, curtsied and skulked to the door.

The moment it was open, a wide-eyed Anne stared into his chamber, looking more upset than he’d ever seen her.

“Oh God! N-nothing happened! You misunderstand!” He tripped out of bed, realizing she believed he’d just bedded her sister.

Mary ran down the hall, sobbing, almost lending more credence to Anne’s idea of what had just transpired.

Anne turned away from him, stiffer than a maypole, and tried to open her door as quick as she could with shaking hands.

He set his equally trembling hands on her shoulders. “I am ill. She was checking on me, and I told her to leave forthwith. Don’t you dare believe for a second anything untoward happened with her. I know how you feel about her lewdness, and I am not that sort of man.”

She kept silent and continued to fight to get her door unlocked.

“Anne!” He turned her around to face him. Her eyes flung to the floor right away. “Look at me.”

Her eyes traced up his chest and they twisted into an anguished expression when they met his eyes. “Do you fancy her?”

“No! Good Lord, no! I cannot abide that girl. It is you I adore.”

She blinked, and her lips trembled. “Why do you pretend to have a regard for me?”

He sighed with a scraping sound. “Look at this carcass of a man before you.” He motioned down the length of his body with his eyes. “I am unwell, unkempt and smell like a rotting moat.”

She chuckled softly.

“I have never taken a mistress—ever. So, why would I do that when I feel on the verge of my deathbed?” His fingers flexed, and his arms ached to hold her. “If I commit myself to a woman, then I see no other. And I mean that—I do not see her. When she passes by, she might as well be a male servant. I have spoken less than two dozen words to her, and I intend to keep it that way, unless there is some request from you for some particular reason for me to address her.” His hands drifted toward her, and he cupped her jaw. “She does not exist. I see only you and the exquisite fire you possess. Do you know how you have wrecked me? And in such a short period of time—it is swifter than the sword, piercing a man in battle. How do you do me thus? What hold do you have on me?”

Instead of smiling like he thought she might do, tears streaked down her cheeks. “You think I have a hold on
you
?” She chuckled, but it was alarming at how dark and sinister it sounded.

Goose flesh prickled at the back of his neck.

“Sweet lady?” His brow wrinkled, and he cocked his head at her, peering into her eyes. “Speak to me.”

“Go.” She dropped her head, and her shoulders copied the motion. “I have nothing more to say.”

“Ever?”

She remained in place, offering nothing else in response.

“Anne—what have I done to deserve this? I am here for you—I serve only you. There is no loyalty to any other being. Not even the king has my allegiance. Only you.”

“That is the problem,” she said with a snort. “You have enacted such a convincing performance, Henry is insistent that you are dangerous to him. He swears he will find your secrets and have you expelled.”

“And that vexes you?” He erased her tears with the edges of his thumbs as he went back to cupping her cheeks.

“How many friends do I truly possess? How many here would turn on me in a moment of persuasion from another? I have no one for me. No shoulder to brace me up when I must hide and cry.”

“You have me,” he said without thinking.

“Not anymore. You will be banished, and I will be bereft.” She shrugged her shoulders up high enough they brushed the bottoms of his hands.

“I am not letting you go.”

“You must.” She glanced at his lips.

“This bet is over. I no longer give a fuck about a bet or pretending to lust after you to incite the king to stronger jealousy or anything else.” All at once, his lips were on hers, and his body was bearing down.

She sighed on contact, melted into him and wrapped her arms around him.

“We are in the corridor,” he whispered when her lips parted.

“We will be seen,” she added.

“Let me into your chamber.” He squeezed her into his chest.

His legs almost buckled because that one little motion sapped what was left of his energy.

“Sir—you are in need of medical attention.” Her voice rose in pitch.

She led him over to his chamber door, opened it and helped him over to his bed.

He sat on the edge, and a laugh blasted out of him. “You are in my chamber, and I kissed you. How did this all crumble around me?” This was not what he had envisioned in terms of romantic notions. He’d kissed her while suffering the effects of time travel, and she was in his room other than to submit to him and be bedded.

He shook his head with small motions so it wouldn’t make his head explode into bits.

“Nothing is ever as we plan, is it?” She closed the door, went over to his basin of water, grabbed a cloth next to it, dipped it in and came back to his side.

She wiped it across the back of his neck, around to his jaw and then cooled his face down.

“Sweet woman—you possess me.”

“That is not a compliment.” She smiled, though, as she said it.

“It is when you consider what it truly means.” His will was shredding with each touch. “What can I do to help you, Anne? I did not mean to make a mess of your life.”

“You did no such thing. It was all complicated before you arrived.” She sighed with a resigned expression. “Harry is an—”

“Asshole,” he said, sighing. “That man does not deserve you or this kingdom.”

She went rigid, then in the next moment—it was like she melted on the spot as his words took root in her heart.

“No one ever speaks of him that way,” she reminded him.

“And why should I care what other people do or think?” He wrapped his fingers around her waist. She kept dabbing at his feverish brow, not shying away from his touch, so he went on. “I only care what
you
think.”

“I am not at liberty to ridicule anyone—least of all him.” She smirked at him for a moment as his hands drifted up her ribs.

“Are you under the impression this is a trick? That I am a spy for him, here to see if you might fall prey to lust and sin against him?”

She bit back what looked like might have been a roaring laugh and quietly giggled instead. “No. You are more transparent than you think, sir. I know you are not in his employ. Besides”—she raked her eyes over his lips—“I have my own eyes and ears around the palace, and they tell me what I need to know.”

“Has Nicholas vouched for me?”

She blinked and shivered for a second like a chill ripped through her. “He has.”

“Then trust me. Tell me what you think of Henry—I have said how I feel about you,” he said, caressing her sides.

“You have intimated a few times that you possibly hold some esteem for me, but nothing more.”

“Good God, woman.” He groaned. “What do I have to say so you will believe me? I will do anything to protect you, to be what you need. Tell me something you want—something that
Harry
cannot give you, and I will make sure you have it. I will prove myself.”

“You attend Mass with me on Sunday, pray and study with me and share your love of God, and then I will know what character you possess.” She was staring at his lips again.

“Kiss me—no more talk. I have been through enough with your sister tonight, battering my door down.” He pulled her in between his legs. “Kiss me, and do it because you want to, not because I am lording myself over you. Henry does that—not me.”

She leaned into him, rested the bottom of her forearms on his shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck.

“You are in distress, sir. I will not kiss you. I do not kiss anyone but the king. I also do not dally when I am committed to someone else.” She dipped her head down, rubbed noses with him and gave this soft, plaintive noise.

“What. Does. He. Mean. To. You? Truly—do you love him? Tell me you do, and I will walk away. I will not pursue you or play this game any longer if he is what you desire.”

She pulled her head back and dropped it. Her left shoulder shrugged. “I used to think I did. He was everything to me, but then I saw that he did not return it in the same way. I am an obsession. He cannot catch me, so he holds on tight. I fear when I give in, he will desire me no longer, and what was left of who I am will be forfeit.”

“Then stop. Cease being his,” he said with a low, soothing tone. “You deserve to be with a man that can love you for who you are, not because you are an animal to chase and hunt down.”

She released a sarcastic-sounding grunt. “Oh, but what a waste of his large manhood.” She snorted, then chuckled.

“Yes, but what good does that do you when it is attached to a douche?”

“Is that a new French term?” She wrinkled her nose. “How have I not heard this word before?”

“Shit!” he blurted, scrambling for some way to cover up his slip. He pressed his lips together, shook his head and laughed at what an idiot he was. “I made it up. It is a code word for asshole.”

She grinned, and there was a naughty glint in her eye. “Is that our code word for him, then?”

“Only if you agree that is what he is,” he said, edging his way closer to her, bending his neck down, angling his head up and looking into her eyes. “Do you?”

“He
is
a douche,” she said, giggling softly at the end.

“I knew it!” He tried to pop up and hug her, but he was too weak.

Instead, he wound up dropping to the bed and dragging her down with him.

“Stay,” he said.

“I cannot. You know that is impossible. Harry might come looking for me.”

“And a douche does not always get his way.” He turned on his side, looked in her eyes and stroked her arm that was on top.

“He does when he rules the land.” Her soft breath pelted his chin.

“Must you always smell so heavenly?”

“I bathe daily, my lord. I am a fastidious woman that way. It drives my ladies-in-waiting mad. They think me touched in the head.”

“You could touch my head,” he muttered.

“I . . . Is that another secret code phrase?” She kicked her slippers off the side of the bed.

It appeared she might be staying for a while.

“It is. And I will share with you its meaning if you stay for a bit.” He blinked, and his eyes went heavy with sleep.

“I will nurse you back to health, but that is all I do.”

“Because it pleases me?”

“Yes, sir—and if it pleases you to hear it, then I will say it all you want.” She cupped his cheek and caressed it.

“I wish so many things for you, little lavender—but the most important is to see you deliriously happy.”

“Well, I shall do my best to please you by placing myself in that state.” She smiled, and her eyes welled up.

“Do not be sad. You are with me, which means you are well-cared for, and you can be yourself here. No one is going to tell you how to be what Henry wants when you are with me.”

“That sounds like a dream.”

“Then sleep, my sweet lady, and dream about it all night.” He kept stroking her arm, whispering to her how lovely she was and how she could have anything she wanted.

That could only happen, though, if he figured out a way to get her away from this egotistical, maniac king.

* * *

Over the next week, Anne was clandestine about her attentiveness to him. She was a proficient nurse-maid, bringing him lemon juice, cherries and even massaging him, though always over his clothes, no matter how much he protested.

His legs were still stiff, though, and he was walking with a pronounced limp on his left leg that had previously been stabbed by an angry husband who’d figured out Guy was wooing his wife.

The more he struggled to straighten his gait, the more Anne seemed to melt around him.

As he dragged himself out for a game of bowls at her encouragement, she stayed at his side, giving him support when he needed it.

She was a nurturing, tenderhearted soul. It melted his heart as well to see how caring she was and how much it broke her to see him in pain.

What disturbed him the most was the idea that if he changed history somehow so Henry would not kill her, the king would limp as well after he had his jousting accident in a few years and hurt his leg. Anne would dote on him, being at his beck and call, only that son of a bitch would no doubt take advantage of it.

He searched his memory, and then it hit him—Henry’s great jousting accident would be a part of the impetus to end her life.

He would joust, the horse would roll over his leg while both were fully armored and she would be so frightened when the physicians told her he would die, she would miscarry. A few hours of her husband being unconscious would scare her so much, she’d go into hysterics.