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Authors: Judith James

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As for his stormy nymph…she was right, of course. Even he could not keep an unmarried woman of low birth and highly questionable background. It was one thing in a bachelor court, and quite another as a married man. The Portuguese were sophisticated. They would wink at a mistress of Barbara’s stature, but to elevate a lowly street urchin to the company of his queen would be an insult they could not ignore.

So why had her request offended him? Under the circumstances it was convenient, even considerate, and perfectly reasonable. Was it the fact she had brought it up before he did that rankled so? That she seemed ready, even eager to move on? Ungrateful wench!

I expect I shall keep her awhile yet. Besides

she has no
idea what she asks
.
She needs a man to take care of her.

If I helped her out of the palace and onto her own she’d be
defenseless amongst my courtiers. An unmarried
commoner. A succulent lamb let loose amongst the
wolves.

Unmarried commoner. That was the bar, and in it lay the solution. It was simple and elegant. The girl needed a suitable husband. A gentleman of rank, but not too proud to take a commoner as his lady. Someone indulgent, grateful and quick to understand he was set to guard a treasure. A country gentleman would be ideal. Suitably rewarded to remain discreet when the lady returned to court. Her stint in the country would al ow him time to settle things between Catherine and Barbara, and al ow her to reflect upon where her best interests lay. Then, like the phoenix, she might return, reborn as a noble married lady. Al that was needed was to find the right man.

CHAPTER THREE

Maidstone County, Kent

ELIZABETH DE V ERES SPUN AROUND
in a circle, faster and faster, her arms stretched wide as azure sky and spring green meadow, leafy canopy and silvery stream, joined in a riotous whirl of color around her. When she tumbled to the ground laughing, her skirts bil owing about her, her husband caught her safely in his arms and settled her back against him.

“Bedlam has many mansions, Lizzy. Have a care.” She chuckled and reached for his hand, finding it and clutching it tight to her chest. The sun was warm on her face and, even as the sky stil spun above her, she imagined she could feel the slow turning of the earth below. She closed her eyes and listened…the shiver of leaves dancing on the late afternoon breeze, the soft babble of shal ow water meandering lazily over smooth stone, the insistent cal s and soft warbles of unseen courting birds, and underneath it al , the steady beat of his heart and the soothing rise and fal of his breath. “It makes me feel like I’m flying.” He tightened an arm around her waist. “I shal have to anchor you tight, then, so you don’t float away.”

“You should real y give it a try, Wil . It’s great fun.” He leaned over to nip her ear. “I have tried it in my youth, with you as I recal , and it gave me much the same feeling as overindulgence in very bad sack. The same tottering walk. The same sense that at any moment one’s feet might leave the ground, which I assume is what you mean by flying,
and
an unfortunate and unpleasant urge to spew.”

“Pfft! I must be married to the least romantic poet in al of England.”

“Think you so?” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m fair certain I can show you other ways to fly.” Easing his fingers from her grasp, he hooked them under the edge of her bodice, tugging gently but insistently as his knuckles slid up the soft outer curve of her breast. He lingered there a moment, caressing the sensitive skin from col arbone to ear, before deftly slipping her gown off her shoulder.

“Wil iam. It’s ful daylight. What if someone comes?” She spoke in an urgent whisper laced with excitement and alarm.

“I warned you if you married me I’d keep you very busy.” And so he had. Since Wil ’s banishment from court for the scandalous poem he left nailed to the palace gates she had never been happier. They lived in their own charmed world here in Kent along with their little family of retainers.

Samuel ruled the grounds and had a worthy garden at last.

Thomas had learned his sums, been promoted to steward and married his Jeanine, and Mary and Marjory ruled house and kitchen as wel as a baked goods stal at the local weekly market. Wil iam’s writing was prolific and had never been better, and neither had his sleep. They had remodeled the house from top to bottom and it had become a joyous place where dark memories held no sway. He stil had his cravings, but she shared them, too, and they delighted in indulging one another indoors, outdoors, day or night.

She turned into his touch with a soft sigh and he blazed a trail of molten kisses from her shoulder to her throat as his hand fondled her waist, then edged down her thigh to pluck at her skirt, slowly inching it up her legs. “Have I told you how very lovely you are? How trim your ankles and shapely your calves? How proud your breasts?” His voice, warm against her ear, sent shivers up her spine.

His hands caressed the bare flesh beneath her skirts, his palm hot against her thigh, and she yielded to his expert touch with a soft sigh. He shifted position so that she lay beneath him and claimed her mouth in a luscious kiss, his tongue stroking and teasing, coaxing her to open. She did so with a low moan, her body sinking pliant into the silky grass as his clever fingers reached higher, seeking the soft juncture between her thighs.

“Sweet Christ, Lizzy, but I am fortunate to have—”

“Praise God I’ve found you, my lord!”

Elizabeth’s startled yelp was drowned by Wil iam’s cursing as a flushed and panting Thomas wriggled, half crouching, through a narrow gap in the hedge. Hastily withdrawing his hand and using his body to shield her from view, Wil iam straightened Elizabeth’s skirts and bodice before jumping to his feet and rounding on his man.

“God’s blood, Tom! Is a little privacy on my own demesne too much to ask? The manor house had best be on fire or the Lord himself come to cal .”

Thomas brushed twigs and leaves from his coat and hair, and col ected his dignity. “Your pardon, my lord, my lady, if I interrupted a private conversation. The manor house is
not
on fire, but the king, in a manner of speaking,
has
come to cal . His messenger is here and he says it is most urgent he speak with you in person. I—”

“The king is
a
lord, not
the
Lord, Tom. And have you ever seen me brought to heel by a snap of His Majesty’s fingers?”

“Never…Master Wil iam,” Tom said with a tired sigh.

“Just so.” Wil iam clapped Tom on the back and leaned close so only he could hear. “Few ever have reason to climb this hil , Tom. You have stumbled upon a private retreat. One my lady and I have shared since childhood.

Unless we are under attack, in imminent danger, or the house
is
on fire, I should like it to stay that way. I know I can trust you to guard our secret.”

“With my life, my lord.”

“Excel ent! Off you go, then. Make our visitor comfortable and tel him we’l be along in due time.”

“Oh, Wil iam. Do you think he saw?” Elizabeth asked in a breathless whisper after he had left. “What he must have thought!”

“Does it excite you? Your eyes are alight and your cheeks are apple-red. It’s very becoming.”

“I was embarrassed,” she said with a sniff.

“Were you?” he inquired playful y. He was stretched out on his side, his head resting on his bent arm, tickling the delicious mounds cunningly displayed by her décol etage with a long blade of grass.

“‘As Chloris ful of harmless thought

Beneath the Wil ows lay,

Kind Love a comely Shepherd brought

To pass the time away:

She blusht to be encounter’d so

And chid the amorous Swain;

But as she strove to rise and go

He pul ’d her down again.

A sudden passion seiz’d her heart

In spight of her disdain,

She found a pulse in e’ry part

And love in e’ry Vein.’”

His fingers skimmed the soft skin between her wrist and elbow and her shiver was not from embarrassment or cold.

“I suppose he must have seen a great deal more, living with you in London.”

“Hush, my sweet, I prefer not to revisit it.” His thumb parted her lips and he kissed the bottom curve. “The only fond remembrances I have from then are of you.”

“But London has come to us, Wil . What do you think Charles wants?”

He groaned in exasperation, giving up. “I would expect His Majesty grows bored, little bird, as he always does. He wil cal us back to court. He is eager to see if you have turned from a lovely brown wren to a plump little partridge now you’re married. He wil want to see if I stil bite and you stil resist him. He wil invite us to come for his wedding.” Elizabeth shifted position, laying her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I have been so blissful y happy this past year, Wil . If that’s what he wants of us, is there some way we can refuse?”

“I’ve no great desire to return to court, love. The country air agrees with me and I have al I need right here.” He smiled as her stroked her hair. “I can make some excuse or another. Charlie rarely maintains a grudge. It’s too much work. We shal write him and thank him and send a nice gift. A fine mare for his breeding stock. And if he presses the thing, one or the other of us shal fal deathly il .”

“Do what you think best, Wil iam. You know him better than I. But shouldn’t we hear the message before crafting a reply?”

“Saucy chit!” He snatched her stockings from where they lay discarded on the ground and set off across the meadow with them flung over his shoulder, trailing behind him like a scarf.

“Wil iam de Veres, you give those back!” Barefoot, Elizabeth chased after him.

CHARLES HAD INDEED RECALLED THEM to court to attend his impending wedding. It was both command and invitation. The haughty messenger in his royal livery was accustomed to fawning and deference. He was not accustomed to being made to wait, particularly by a country gentleman who dressed like a farmer, and his barefoot hoydenish wife. “I say again, sir. I am His Majesty’s representative and you have kept me waiting half the day. I require a response. I require it now, so I may be about my duties.”

“You’ve received your response. Thank His Majesty for his kind invitation and tel him I wil write.” Two minutes later His Majesty’s fuming courier was escorted out the back door like a menial by Tom and one of the footmen.

“Was that real y necessary, Wil iam?”

“Feeding hubris only makes it grow, love.” He poured them both a drink and sat down on an oversize upholstered couch. Elizabeth picked up the mail and came to lie with her head against the far bolster and her feet in his lap.

“Poor little shepherdess. Your feet are roughened and bruised.”

“Whose fault is that?” She wiggled her toes in his lap and he took a dainty foot and began massaging it.

“Mmm. That’s heavenly.” She could feel his interest growing, quite literal y under her feet, but a familiar heavy scrawl had caught her eye. It was a reply from Robert at last. She had just about given up on him. He had been her only friend through some difficult years and she didn’t want to lose him. She knew he would be hurt, possibly angry at the news of her marriage, but it was hardly something she could keep from him, any more than she could have kept it from Charles. Her cheeks flushed and she gave Wil iam a guilty look from underneath her lashes.

“What have you there, love? A
billet doux
from a secret admirer?”

“It is a letter from Robert.”

“Robert?”

“Yes. You remember. Captain Nichols.”

“Ah, yes! Marjorie’s nice young man. The one who wanted to marry you. How did a little wren gain so many admirers?

Poets, captains and kings. I was lucky I kidnapped you when I did.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Did I ever meet him? I think not. Some stuffed country Puritan, wasn’t he?

“No. He’s very elegant and handsome, if somewhat private and intense. A military man. He had his own company of horse. I am hoping you wil get to meet him soon. I rather invited us to his home. I believe you would like each other.” He chuckled and she made a face at him. “That’s an evil laugh.”

“He’l not like me, my dear. You know so little of men. No man likes the fel ow who stole the woman he’d marked as his. Doubtless he judges me an immoral libertine and a terrible danger to your sweet soul.”

“Which you were.” She put down the letter. “You know it’s strange. When last we met he told me he had wanted to marry me when I was a girl, but I never had any idea. He doesn’t show his emotions. I thought at first he didn’t have any. He has always seemed so lacking in passion and so very correct.”

Wil iam shrugged, and moved his attentions from her heel to her arch. “That’s true of many who’ve seen too much of war. People deal with it in different ways. It’s not a thing one tends to share in conversation. ‘Pass the biscuits, a lump of sugar if you please, oh, and did I ever tel you about the poor bastard who had his legs blown off as he stood beside me?’ It’s no surprise some develop the habit of silence.”

“Did that happen to you?”

“Obviously not,” he said with a grin. “I am the type for whom little things take more meaning when larger ones disappoint. A fine wine, a lovely painting, a heated kiss replace glory, honor and duty. Perhaps for your Robert, it is the reverse.”

She wanted to ask him about the lust and cruelty she’d seen in the eyes of some soldiers. Whether that was a thing men took with them into battle, or something they brought from it, but he had let loose her feet and was bent over a side table, penning a response to the king. She opened Robert’s letter and began to read.

My dearest Elizabeth,

How kind of you to write and share your happy news. I can
scarcely credit that any woman managed to bring de
Veres to heel. It is an act of superb generalship worthy of
your father and congratulations are due. I am delighted for
you, my dear, so long as he treats you well. It is kind of
you to offer to visit. I, too, value our friendship, but I very
much regret it is not possible at this time. It seems the
king has found a higher purpose for Cressly, and thus I
must find one for myself. I will be gone from it by the end
of next month.

BOOK: The King's Courtesan
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