Francis’s smiling face glowered from inside his study. The cloudiness had returned to his eyes, and a strange smile tilted his lips.
“Trust I will not keep you long from your most beautiful bride.”
An overwhelming sense of dread gripped my stomach as my husband stepped back into the King’s study. As Jacques pushed the heavy doors closed, I stared at Jean, and he stared back, unable and unsure of what to say. The emotion behind Jean’s piercing eyes mirrored mine. Fear.
The doors severed our eye contact as they closed with a sense of finality.
Click.
“Come, Miss.” Jacques’s words were heavily-accented English. “It was said by our most sovereign prince that you require the ambassador chambers. I trust you shall be quite pleased with the most exquisite accommodations in all of France.”
I willed the tears not to fall as I sat on the empty canopy bed that dominated the Ambassador Suite. I’d donned the fresh nightclothes that had been laid out for me, alongside a complementary pair for Jean, and watched from my westerly window as the sun sank until it disappeared over the horizon. As darkness descended outside, I turned toward the crackling fire that illuminated the inside of the sumptuous room. The orange glow was warm, comforting. Still, I was alone.
Jacques had been correct in his assumption—I was quite pleased with the Ambassador Suite. Deep blue curtains were held back from the window by velvet bonds that matched the trim of the bedspread.
A chess table, bathed in moonlight and set for two, waited patiently for the next players, while a writing desk, complete with its own candle sconce and footrest, sat near the fireplace. An ancient trunk stood watch at the foot of the oversized bed, while the portrait of a stranger petting his dog stared down at me from the far wall. Not too large and not too small, this room proved to be most cozy. At least, it would be cozy if Jean was here to share in the candlelit space with me.
Should he come back at all.
I glanced around and noticed for the first time a handful of recessed bricks at the head of the bed. “What’s this?”
Pins and needles pricked my legs when I stood, and it took a moment until I could walk. When the feeling returned to my feet, I climbed up to examine my discovery. “Well now,” I mused.
I jumped at the sound of my own voice echoing off the stones. Tucked against the back wall of the recessed bricks, stood a modest wooden cross. “Why, it’s some sort of a little shrine.”
Though the cross was just that, a simple cross and not a holy crucifix, and there were no statues keeping it company, I knelt to my knees before it. Perfect height.
I did the sign of the cross.
In nominae Patris, et Fili, et Spiritus Sancti.
A fervent prayer muddled my mind as Hail Marys escaped my lips.
Father, please watch over my husband.
An out-of-place creak pulled me from my prayerful trance. Slowly, I turned to discover a figure illuminated by the low glow from the fire. I gasped.
“I didn’t want to disturb you while you talked to the Almighty.” Jean’s voice was a cool splash of water on a hot summer’s day. “You are even more beautiful when you pray.”
I flew into his arms. “Oh, thank God. You came back to me.”
“Of course I did. Had it been up to me, I would have been here much earlier.” He stroked my hair. “Tell me, did they leave some of those fancy sleeping clothes for me, too?”
Ever polite and even more nervous, I pointed to where his sleeping clothes lay. “I’ll turn my back,” I mumbled.
Jean didn’t answer, so I averted my eyes and continued. “What did the King have to speak to you about that was so important that it lasted half the night?”
Jean stepped around and joined me on my perch on the side of the bed. Our bed. He covered my hand with his. “King Francis had lots to say. He most enjoyed telling me, in great detail, how Henry came to choose you as his next Queen. And why he went through the trouble of hosting all the Ladies-of-Choice in such a lavish and drawn-out display.”
I shifted my weight but was careful not to move my hand from under the warmth of his. “I have been curious about that myself.”
“It seems Lady Denny made it known at Court that she had two relations of marrying age living in her home. She also made it known that she would stop at nothing to see one of you—either her daughter or her niece—wed the King. He apparently had chosen you instead of Elizabeth before you ever knew what was at stake.”
Something soured in my stomach as I remembered the day Lady Denny dressed Elizabeth and me in our finest dresses for a party at court. “Someone was being knighted, she said, and we were to attend with her. I didn’t bother asking why she wasn’t there to attend the Queen, as it was her job as her Lady-in-Waiting. I just did as I was told.”
Jean rubbed his thumb across the top of my hand. “Did you meet King Henry then?”
I shook my head. “No. Not that I knew of, anyway. We stayed at Court only for a moment. We didn’t even get to watch the knighting ceremony. We were ushered in and ushered out just as quickly. A few weeks later, the courtiers sent word that they would be coming to dine at Throckmorton Priory, my home.”
Shivers brought gooseflesh to my arms. Henry. He was always watching. Always cunning.
Jean let go of my hand and draped his arm around my shoulders. “That’s when he chose you. He decided that very night who would wear the blue dress, signifying his future Queen.”
“Did Francis say why Henry would go through all the trouble?”
“Yes, he did,” Jean began. “It was a masterful game for a bored and lusty king. He gained a beautiful new, young wife, and his subjects gained a Queen. Both were achieved in a very public way.”
I nodded and tried not to feel like a fool.
Jean continued. “Also, he increased the number of ladies at court. Mistresses, if I may be so blunt. Virginal mistresses. And he intended to enjoy them all.”
The same hot bile that had surged the day I found myself lost in the castle and at King Henry’s command burned in my throat again. “Please Jean, tell me no more.”
“May I tell you that you’re beautiful? And that every moment away from you tonight was akin to a lifetime spent in the torture chamber?”
Jean’s warm breath caressed my ear with his whispers and his words melted away the hurt and fear I’d been trying to ignore.
I turned to speak, to say something. Anything. Before the sounds escaped my lips, his mouth covered mine. His passion fueled deep kisses that reminded me of adventures we’d shared together behind the waterfall. A welcome tightness brought a groan to my throat as Jean’s strong fingers untied my filmy blouse.
Sweet kisses from my husband’s lips trailed fire down my neck. My hands cupped his stubbled face as he proceeded to explore the body he’d known so intimately only the night before. The dampness between my thighs was discovered as Jean deftly removed my billowy night pants.
“I love you,” I purred, as his kisses tickled my stomach.
The last glowing log fell in the fireplace with a thunk and cast us in only the faint, silvery darkness offered by the moon.
“Oh, my Bridget,” Jean breathed against the inside of my thigh. Carefully, he pressed my knees apart. I shivered with anticipation. “If only you knew how much I loved you.”
His kisses explored higher as I lay back against the bedspread. “If only you knew.” Jean’s voice was a throaty rasp as his fingers entered me and sent a spasm through the secret places that only Jean had ever discovered. “You would never feel fear again.”
I ignored his odd choice of words and closed my eyes as my husband’s lips met the slippery folds of my body. His fingers played a song of pleasure inside me that only the two of us would ever know.
My breath came in jagged gasps as Jean’s kisses elicited a series of sparks that threatened to choke a scream from my dry throat. Before I could summit, Jean rose up from between my knees and, illuminated in the moonlight like an earthly angel, atop me. I grasped his waiting hardness and drew him into me.
“No,” he said.
I stopped and tilted my head. “No?”
“The answer to your question from earlier. No. I should never in all my days on this earth take a mistress.”
