Seducing Anne (8 page)

“That would be the death of me. We all have parts to play at court,” she said, her voice soft.

“And you have yours—serve and please me, and you will have everything you have ever desired. That I vow.”

She dropped into a curtsy, and having her face right by his hard-on made him bite back a moan.

“You may go now.” He stepped away, opened the door and guided her out by gripping the back of her elbow.

As soon as she left, he found his way out to the grounds. Time to place more bets so he could earn some money and buy some clothing.

“You, sir,” Guy hollered to a yeoman.

“Yes?” The man turned to him.

“What is the wait for wrestling? To have bets placed?” Guy looked over the servant’s shoulder.

“It has an hour or more. Six men wait.”

“What about the tennis matches? How long for those?”

“None, my lord. There is actually a noble there waiting now.” The servant bowed and left.

“Excellent.” Guy walked out to the brand new covered tennis courts and found Charles Brandon—close friend of the king—waiting, all but drooling at the prospect of a fresh and willing victim.

“Sir Brandon—I am your man. Will you take bets on me?” Guy asked.

Brandon spun on his heel, then whispered something to the two dozen watching on the sidelines.

They all laughed, and Guy called out, “I will win. I always do, Brandon.”

Charles rounded on him, his eyes set to creased slits. “So do I.”

“Well, then this should be quite the notable match. Place bets,” Guy said, and he found a racket and grinned.

He knew full well they would never bet on this stranger they’d never seen before.

That put it all in his favor.

Just as he intended . . .

* * *

Guy smiled at his plate of food at supper.

Anne smiled at his choice of clothing. He was ever the gentleman in his thick brocade silver doublet with navy lacing, cream-colored breaches and polished black boots.

He actually enjoyed Tudor food. The meals were always resplendent. He’d enjoy this one, too, even if Charles Brandon, three seats over, was hissing something in Henry’s ear and glaring at Guy. It did nothing to quell his appetite.

Guy had earned a plateful of food after two rounds of tennis matches and beating Charles soundly both times. They were well matched, but Charles’s temper caused him to make foolish mistakes.

“Were you happy to have the turtledove, or did you prefer quail?” Anne asked Guy, seated at her right. Henry was on her left.

“Quail is my choice usually, but this will suffice. I do not possess a finicky palate.” He smiled.

She traded plates with him.

His meat had been covered in lemon and salt.

Hers was covered in jance—that tasty white wine sauce with various herbs that always made his mouth water.

“Are you certain you can part with such a delicious plate of food?” he asked her, leaning close enough to her that Henry would see he was definitely familiar with her company.

Henry’s eyes narrowed right away when he saw what was happening.

To piss him off further, Guy offered her a sip of his claret. “Try this—it’s superb.”

She took a small sip, her eyes sparked to life and she actually moaned after she swallowed.

“Good God, where did you get that?” she asked, turning to face Guy entirely, her focus on nothing else but him.

“I brought it along with me. Won it in a bet today when I won at a tennis match.”

She flinched. “Tennis with whom?”

“Not the king if you’re worried.”

Henry stiffened at her side.

She shook her head a little and licked her lips like she couldn’t get enough of the finely spiced wine. “Why would I worry about you—a grown man capable of taking care of himself?”

“You left me soap and lavender, did you not? That suggests you worry, want to care for and nurture me.” His voice dropped, and his lips went tight on her ear. He even brushed her hair away from it so he could get better access. “Some might say those are actions of a woman enamored.”

She sat motionless, barely breathing, clutching her thighs. “Some might say I am the great whore, yet I retain my maidenhead. What should I do? Listen to all the ladies-in-waiting and believe their idle prattle?” she whispered in his direction.

He took her wine glass, switched it with his. “You should have the best”—he shrugged—“and believe what you like.” He took a sip of his new drink. It was a nice white wine, but it was a little too dry for his tastes. “Some might also say that Henry has slighted you by giving you his least desirable of wines. Why would he do that?” he whispered now as well.

Her lips parted, but she failed to speak. “I think it’s time to eat.”

“It’s time to pay attention to the messages he sends you, and the ones I send you as well.” His voice continued to be quiet enough that only she alone could hear it. He smiled, took another drink and then went to his food, ignoring the feel of Henry’s laser-like stare on him.

Guy reached under the table, squeezed Anne’s thigh and whispered toward her, “He’s watching. Best eat, love, so he will leave you be.”

“The play starts now between us?”

He chuckled. “The play between us started from the moment I got on your horse and rode away with you, sweet.”

She let his hand remain and went about eating her food, and very much enjoying the drink he’d given her based on the continual lip-smacking sounds she was making.

A moment later, Henry turned to Anne, and he slapped his hand on the table, even though all the courtiers in the room gaped at him and gasped.

“Was your drink not to your satisfaction, Mistress Anne?” Henry asked, but his eyes were on Guy.

“It was pleasant—thank you, sire.” She bowed her head.

“Do you plan to offer her some of your hippocras? Is that your intention? To share with her the same drink you enjoy? The most expensive you have? How impressive,” Guy said, smirking, leaning back in his chair.

“I answer to no one,” Henry said, his face turning red. “Least of all a man of your caliber.”

“Well, I certainly hope not since your court will most decidedly wonder what has you out of sorts that you feel compelled to jostle the table so,” Guy replied, his grin so wide his jaw felt like it was becoming unhinged.

Guy’s eyes flung over to Brandon—his lips pressed so tightly together, his chin was blanched white. And his eyes were almost invisible—they were narrowed to tiny, slanting slits. He sat stiff in his chair, hands clutched together on the table in front of the plate of barely touched food.

He was a large man like Henry, but a few inches shorter. The king even had a few inches on Guy.

All three of them had athletic builds, even though they were all in their forties. Robust in health and alpha male personalities—a striking combination, and also a little dangerous when the three of them were lined up at the table this way within reach of the other’s blows.

Guy had taunted Brandon on the tennis court about being an old rickety man. Brandon’s forty-eight years didn’t seem to show much during the game, but it sure as hell was fun to tease him and make him angry beyond reason. Especially since Guy knew Brandon would be at Anne’s execution in a few years’ time.

Henry picked up his drink. “The court can think what they like. They know not to question me.” His eyes were still on Guy—his fists so tight on the goblet he was holding that it shook a little in his grip.

The king set it down, placed it before Anne and waited, like he expected her to say something to erase all that he’d just witnessed between her and Guy.

“There is nothing more desirable than a well-trained court full of willing, docile women. How fabulous you are here to teach the men in search of a wife how to find an obedient bride and teach them the ways of the Lord.” Guy kept his hand under the table, on Anne’s thigh. He stroked it a little.

Her breath hitched, and she relaxed a little as he kept doing it.

Henry had her on edge—Guy had her on the edge of
sin
.

“Well, I . . . W-we are all loyal to Christ. I insist on a pious court,” Henry said, stumbling over his words.

“And at the last supper, did Christ make sure all the disciples at his table all shared of the same costly wine, or did some drink white wine, while only he imbibed of the hippocras?” Guy bit back a chuckle.

“How can any man know such a thing?” Henry’s arms went to his sides, and his head cocked.

“I merely wanted to know what the Defender of the Faith considered a typifying of Christ when he breaks bread at this table and is the supreme example for his court.” Guy let go of her leg, reached for the manchet on the table, broke it in half and offered the larger chunk to Anne.

She took the bread with steady fingers and placed a small bite—all with her eyes on Henry, his face even redder now.

Henry huffed and stabbed at his food.

“A little too much?” Anne whispered to Guy.

“A little too much what?” Guy turned his head toward her. “Too much of showing him a mirror so he can see what an ass he is?” He grabbed her hand, holding the bread she’d just taken a taste of, and he took a bite out of it.

“Eat, little lavender. You will dance with me when done and prance your wares before the king.” He pushed her plate closer to her.

“Sir . . . I . . .”

“Is something amiss?” He paused and peered into her eyes.

“I have a lack of appetite. The king glowers at me.”

“He glowers at me, not you. I swear it, and even if he does, his shifting temper will not last long,” Guy said, tapping the edge of her plate. “Besides—did I not tell you that your only focus is to be me? I will ensure your future happiness. I will give you the peace you so deserve.”

Their private, quiet conversation was doing something to him. His heart thrummed heavy in his chest, and he was struggling to keep his hands off her.

She dipped her head and took a bite of the meat.

“Is it not divine? The food is extraordinary. The smell is heavenly—rather like you.” He scooted his chair closer to hers. “And you look entirely edible and smell even better. I have lost my appetite as well, but for a different reason. I care not that the king dislikes me, for I have a stunning dove at my side. You, lady, are a rare gem—so beautiful you so move me to keep from blinking for fear I might miss a moment of gazing at you.”

She gasped and whispered so quietly he barely heard her saying, “Too bold.”

“Too true.” He reached over, grabbed a piece of her meat and placed it at her lips. “I will feed you then.”

“Sir?”

“Bite, Anne. I take care of you, and it pleases me. Eat.”

She unlocked her jaws, opened her lips and her tongue extended, wrapping around the morsel of food.

“Very good, little lavender. Eat and enjoy. And I will admire you as you do so.” He bit the left corner of his lip to keep from smirking. “Beautiful.”

“So are you,” she managed to say before she took the next bite he offered her. A dusky pink blush colored her cheeks, her lips and even her neck.

God, he was hard now. They were flirting openly with Henry seated right next to her.

Never had Guy done something this dangerous before. He risked the wrath of a king unafraid of killing people on whatever grounds he chose.

Guy shifted closer to her. Fuck Henry.

Over the next few moments they were silent, and she ate at his hands, smiling between bites.

Guy failed to gauge the king’s responses anymore. In that moment, he no longer cared.

All that mattered was this otherworldly creature before him.

There was something captivating about her. That voice, the way she moved with elegance and poise but hinted at something explosive with carnal passion underneath. Those eyes filled with intelligence and kindness. They made him want to unwrap every little piece of her to get to all of it. He had to know what she offered.

When she was done eating, he grabbed her hand without asking and pulled her up to dance.

There was music already and couples swirling around.

And they would join them.

Unlike the others, though, doing various bouncy dances where they rarely touched their partners, he took her into a close hold and went straight into a volta.

She gasped the first time he smashed her chest into his, then lifted her with a hop and a nudge from his knee on the back of her thighs. She flew with grace and ease as his hands held her about the ribs. It was like lifting a light stack of reeds as she flew above him, and he made sure to take what he could—sliding her body down his each time he had to allow gravity to pull her back down to earth.

“Exquisite—you are a most enchanting creature. You continually move me. No wonder the king is seething over my attentions on you.”

“I think it is you moving me, sir.” She grinned, failing to mention the king.

His heart rate spiked. Was she in the same place as he was—no longer caring all that much what the king thought of either of them or this budding relationship?