A Woman of Passion

by Virginia Henley

  As he strode from the chamber, Bess knew she was afraid, all right. But it wasn't of the devastating Lord Talbot. Bess was afraid of herself, afraid of her blatant response to his virility, afraid of her own passionate nature!

  After that incident Bess found that Talbot was no longer stalking her, but whenever they were thrown together in the same company, his dark gaze never left her, and when their eyes met he looked as if he would devour her. And even though he kept his distance, Bess found that she was not free of him. To her dismay she began to dream about him, and the dreams were blatantly erotic!

  The frenzied nightly celebrations went on until dawn right up to the coronation. Then, on January 14, Elizabeth made a triumphant progress through the streets of London. It was an impressive cavalcade, with her guards, household officers, and peers of the realm all mounted on horseback, with Elizabeth herself riding in a canopied chariot. She wore a mantle of gold and silver tissue edged in ermine. Her ladies-in-waiting and ladies-of-the-bedchamber followed her, gowned in crimson velvet with gold-lined sleeves.

  Along the route, upon platforms specially built for the occasion, magnificently costumed figures formed tableaux. Each had a crier who stepped forward as the queen approached and with rhymed couplets explained the significance of the scenes. It was cleverly planned to endear Elizabeth to the people. All along the way she received nosegays and flowers from the children and spoke to them sweetly, amid tumultuous cheers of “Long Live the Queen!”

  The next day Elizabeth's coronation took place in Westminster Abbey. She sat before the high altar for a grueling five-hour ceremony where she was anointed, crowned, and given the ring that bound her to the people. Brass trumpets sounded as she was declared Queen of England. She then received homage from her lords of the realm, and finally Mass was celebrated.

  Then Queen Elizabeth, carrying her scepter and orb, walked from the abbey down the long corridors to Westminster Hall for the coronation banquet. Elizabeth did not leave the hall until after midnight. Every man and woman at Court was literally exhausted. The queen, however, had made herself ill.

  For the next fortnight Robin Dudley, Cecil, Talbot, St. Loe, Cat Ashley, and all her ladies hovered anxiously about Elizabeth's apartments and the Privy Chamber. Bess was convinced that all Elizabeth needed was rest. For an entire month she had insatiably pursued pleasure, greedily snatching all that life now offered, like one who had been starved since childhood.

  The queen's illness postponed the opening of Parliament, for which Bess was profoundly grateful. Until Parliament convened, the bill to recover the Cavendish debt could not be passed. Bess knew it would be only a short reprieve, but anything that lightened her heavy burden of worry was welcome.

  On the first day of February, the queen arose from her bed with renewed vitality and determination. Her ladies knew Elizabeth was recovered when she treated them to a savage burst of profanity.

  “By Christ's precious blood, I never closed my eyes last night. Some whoreson was crashing about directly above my apartments. I want his name so I can string him up by the balls.” She waved an imperious hand. “Go and learn the dirty dog's name—he deserves to be housed in a kennel!”

  Young Lettice Knollys blanched. “Me, Your Majesty?”

  “No, not you, for Christ's sake! Lady Cavendish knows how to handle men; she has a temper that matches my own. Bess, I want you to rip up one side of the noisome bastard and down the other for the mad racket I was forced to endure.”

  Bess smiled her secret smile and picked up her skirts so she could hurry with ease to do the queen's bidding. When she arrived on the floor above, she bit her lip with amusement when she learned who occupied the chambers. Mary Sidney's husband, Henry, was housed up here, as well as Ambrose Dudley. His sister Kitty and the rest of the Dudley menagerie had been visiting last night. There was no way Bess was going to antagonize the favorite's family; Robin would have to lay down the law to his own unruly clan. Bess was headed toward the stairs when suddenly, out of nowhere, Talbot's tall shadow fell across her path.

  “Bess, we have to talk.”

  “No! We have nothing to say to each other.” Bess made a dash for the stairs. Her heart raced in panic. Dear Lord, it was like being stalked by a black panther. As she ran Bess turned her head to see if he followed and missed a step. She went tumbling down the staircase in a tangle of skirts and petticoats. She cried out as her ankle twisted painfully.

  Talbot descended the steps three at a time. “God damn it, Bess, why did you run?” His arms were about her immediately, tenderly lifting her into his lap as he sat down on a step, his face filled with alarm, his heart filled with dread. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his voice roughened with apprehension.

  “Splendor of God, I'll be far from all right if anyone sees me being cradled in a married man's lap. I'll have more than my ankle to worry about—my reputation will be blackened! Let me up.”

  Gently, he helped her to her feet and saw that she could not bear her own weight. “I'll have to carry you.”

  “You'll do no such wicked thing, you lecherous swine; you've done enough! I am perfectly all right.”

  “Be silent,” he ordered with authority. Lord Talbot was used to deference from everyone, and he certainly wasn't going to allow a woman to argue with him, especially not this maddening beauty he'd marked as his own. He swung her easily into his powerful arms and descended the rest of the stairs.

  Bess sought refuge in anger. It was her only hope against his overwhelming masculinity. She dug her nails into the back of his hand cruelly. “You aren't just a devil,” she panted furiously, “you are Lucifer himself!”

  When Lord Talbot strode into the Privy Chamber carrying his pretty burden, the queen's eyes narrowed. “What the devil happened? Have you accosted her?”

  Bess bit her lip. She was tempted to say, Yes, he flung me down the stairs, but she felt his hands tighten on her body in warning, and she did not dare. “No, Your Majesty, I twisted my ankle and Lord Talbot came to my rescue.”

  The queen studied the pair for a moment. This was the second time Talbot had cast himself in the role of knight errant to Lady Cavendish. Bess was certainly a tempting jade, a true man's woman. Even Robin wasn't immune to her allure. Perhaps it was time to get her safely married.

  “She fell down the stairs, and her ankle is badly swollen. She won't be any good to you for at least a week. I suggest you send her home to recuperate,” Talbot advised.

  Elizabeth saw the merit in his suggestion. If Bess remained at Court, the ladies would be running to wait on her instead of their queen. “Mary, pack her bag. Bess, I shall send for Syntlo and have him give you safe escort. But I want you back in a sennight.”

  An hour later, when Sir William St. Loe lifted Bess up in his arms to carry her to her barge, Lord Talbot fought the urge to smash the captain of the queen's guard in the face.

  At Brentford, Syntlo set Lady Cavendish on the couch, and Aunt Marcy elevated Bess's ankle on a cushion. When Bess introduced Sir William to her children, her two eldest sons inundated him with questions about his office of captain of the queen's guard. They dragged him off to the stables to show him their horses and dogs, and when Syntlo asked them about their studies, they took him to the schoolroom and eagerly answered all his questions regarding the subjects their tutors were teaching them.

  Sir William lingered all afternoon, and when Bess thanked him for bringing her safely home, he asked her if he could come again. “I envy you your sons, Lady Cavendish. They have such keen minds. Are you considering them for Eton?”

  “Alas, there is no money for that, Syntlo, much to my sorrow.”

  “I beg your pardon, my lady, that was clumsy of me.”

  “Nonsense. I have no secrets from you, Sir William. I don't feel uncomfortable discussing my circumstances.”

  After he departed, Marcella brought her a posset of herbs to ease her discomfort. “William and Henry took to him like ducks to water. Instead of running about like wild me
n, they actually carried on an intelligent conversation. Those boys need a father, and it is your duty to provide them with one!”

  * * *

  All that week, away from the frenzied activities of Court, Bess had ample time to think. Her grief had undergone many stages. At first she had suffered total shock and isolation as she withdrew from the world. Then came sleeplessness, loss of appetite, guilt, and finally anger, all followed by acute anxiety over the ruinous debt she owed. It had been a powerless time, filled with such hopelessness, she felt she would go out of her mind.

  Finally, when her intense sadness brought the torrent of tears every night, Bess experienced a dramatic emotional release. Her Court appointment had come at the right time. It had been a good and positive experience, and Bess knew she had no choice but to let go of her death hold on the past and focus on the future.

  Her week at home was almost up, and because she had kept off her ankle, only a slight tenderness remained. Spring had come early, and the February sunshine slanting through the latticed windows lured Bess outdoors. The gardens were awash with crocus, tulips, and a sea of yellow daffodils. Francie and Jane carried cushions out to a garden lounge chair where Bess could look down the grassy bank and watch the swans gliding on the calm water of the river.

  Bess could not afford to be completely idle. She had brought her account books outside and worked diligently bringing them up to date. Francie soon grew bored and begged Jane to come and pick strawberries for supper. Left alone, Bess soon tallied the accounts and made a list of food supplies that must be ordered.

  There was no breeze, and the afternoon was warm. Bess looked down at her black velvet and decided that when she returned to Court, she would put away her mourning clothes. She fingered the gown; it was one of her very favorites, whose soft black sleeves were embroidered with bright golden leaves and acorns. Bess closed her eyes, feeling a measure of contentment steal over her.

  When she lifted her lashes, she saw a wooden skiff gliding across the water to the bottom of her garden. She watched the man in it idly, and when he stepped from the boat and came up the grassy bank toward her, she was not the least bit surprised to see that it was Lord Talbot. Shrewsbury House was not a great distance from Brentford, and Bess realized that she had been half-expecting him.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Rested.” Bess recalled vividly another time when they had been in a garden by the river. Talbot had stood before her naked, proudly displaying himself. With a smile Bess remembered her outrage at his blatant arrogance. She also recalled every detail of his lithe sixteen-year-old body. He had stood six feet tall even in his youth, and his muscular torso had been covered by black hair. His compelling image, so virile and magnetic, had come to her when she had been married to young Rob Barlow, and lately it had come again in her dreams.

  “Come for a row on the river.” He neither asked nor ordered, he simply invited. “You'll be safe with me.”

  Bess knew she would not be safe, she would be in the gravest danger, but the moment had come for her to face up to his devilish attraction and her fear of it. She would never dispel it otherwise. “Why not? You'll have to carry me, though.” She saw his body tense up and the desire flare in his eyes. She knew she was playing with fire.

  He picked her up easily, as if she were thistledown, and strode down to the punt. Her body reacted to him the moment he touched her—nay, it had been before that. It had quivered the moment she sensed it was he on the river. He set her down gently, then climbed in facing her and took up the oars. He wore no doublet, only a black silk shirt, open at the throat. He rowed smoothly, with long strokes, and her mouth went dry at the sheer sensuality of her own thoughts. Beneath the silk she saw his supple muscles gather and ripple effortlessly.

  There was something too intoxicating about his male power, and Bess forced her gaze away from him to look across the dappled sunlit water. The slow realization came that he had some purpose in mind. She felt almost mesmerized as she saw Shrewsbury House and knew that was where he was taking her. The boat glided to the water steps, and he jumped out to secure it.

  “What are you doing?” she asked softly.

  “Abducting you.”

  “You said I'd be safe with you.”

  “You knew I was lying, Bess.”

  “Yes.” She could have taken refuge in anger, but that would have been taking the easy way out.

  He came back into the punt, splayed his legs wide apart to balance himself, then lifted her high in his arms. As he strode into Shrewsbury House and headed purposefully for the stairs, there were no servants in evidence and Bess knew he had laid his plan carefully and issued his orders for privacy.

  He took her into a spacious room she knew was his, and his alone. It was the most magnificently masculine chamber she had ever seen. The entire room was done in black and gold, a great deal of it real gold. The bed-curtains were black velvet, the matching bedcover was embroidered with an immense gold initial S that reminded her of a coiled serpent. The bedposts were covered with beaten gold leaf. The walls were dull gold, the carpet thick and black. The fireplace looked like onyx with a heavy gold mantel. Solid gold chessmen marched across an onyx games table.

  Talbot set Bess upon a deep window seat piled with black and gold pillows and stood gazing down at her. Bess realized her gown matched the room perfectly. It was uncanny, as if she had worn it especially for him. Everything in the chamber appealed to her flamboyant taste—especially its owner.

  “Bess, I want to be your secret lover.”

  Oh, God, Bess thought, why couldn't there be just the two of them in the whole world? Why couldn't there be only this present time, with no past and no future?

  “When I say secret, I mean secret. I won't flaunt you, I won't parade you about for decoration—though, God knows, you're the most decorative female I've ever seen. I have a dozen residences in the north. Just choose one and it will be ours alone. I will guarantee complete privacy. You may see me as often or as seldom as you wish.”

  Bess ran the tip of her tongue over dry lips and said carefully, “What makes you think I would agree to any of this?”

  “Because I know you desire me. Not as much as I want you—that would be impossible. Bess, you are a woman of passion, and you know I could satisfy you as no other man ever has or ever will.”

  He was so cocksure, but Bess knew that's why she wanted him. He was all male, and he appealed to every one of her womanly senses. Bess wanted him to make love to her, all right, if only he could do it without making her his mistress. She remembered the first time he saw her; he'd said with youthful arrogance, She's only a servant. If she let him make love to her, he could say, She's only a mistress, and what would be the difference?

  Bess looked at his beautiful, sensual mouth and took refuge in a lie. “You are wrong, Lord Talbot. I do not desire you; I feel completely indifferent.”

  His gaze smoldered. He was certain she lied. “A wager, Bess. Give me an hour to persuade you. If at the end of that time you are not begging me to make love to you, I'll let you go in peace.”

  It was a challenge she knew she could not refuse. She had to prove to him that she could indeed resist him, but even more she had to prove it to herself. “Why not?”

  She watched him pick up a golden hourglass with black sand and turn it upside down. The window seat upon which she reclined was nearly as wide as a bed, and Bess thought he would immediately come down to her and take her in his arms, but he did not. Instead, he propped one booted foot on the ledge and leaned his weight on his raised knee.

  His voice was husky. “Bess, I know you've had two husbands.… How many lovers have you had?”

  “Only Cavendish,” she answered truthfully.

  His dark gaze studied her face. “Then you've never been loved by a man of your own age—a man in his prime. Jesus, you've no notion what our mating could be like. I'd want you in a sable bedgown with nothing beneath it. I'd carry you off at midnight on a black stallion
and impale you right there in the saddle. I'd take you to one of my castles and lock us naked in its tower for a week and keep you at the peak of your arousal so that you would respond to my lightest touch.” His voice became intense. “Always when I think of you, I see myself deep within you. I see your lips open and hear you cry out with passion as I sheathe myself to the hilt inside you.” He reached down for her hands, holding them so close to his body, she could feel his heat leap into her fingers and race up her arms.

  “Every night I would carry you to bed. The first coupling would be savage of necessity, the second so slow and sensual you would writhe for an hour, moaning and frenzied, until I brought you to climax. But the third time I would make real love to you, cherishing and worshiping you with my body until you dissolved in liquid tremors and yielded everything I ever wanted from you.” His dark, erotic fantasies poured over her like wine, until she felt drunk with need.

  Lord Talbot's mouth found hers, and Bess opened her lips in wanton invitation. The kiss was not savage, it was perfect. His mouth was firm and demanding, but not brutal. When the kiss deepened, he almost stole her senses. Bess expected to feel his hands upon her, undressing her, and she knew she would yield to him. What she felt was not love, it was pure lust. He was the most attractive and sexually arousing man she had ever encountered. Her breasts and belly ached with need. She wanted his hands and his mouth on her body, she wanted his long, thick, marble-hard manroot filling her emptiness, and, above all, she clamored to be taken by a man her own age.

  “Please.” Bess was suddenly horrified. Was that her voice begging? She did the only thing she knew would save her pride. She cried out her husband's name. “Please, William!”

  She felt him go rigid at the insult, and she opened her eyes to watch the outrage on his face. But it was fleeting, gone in an instant, as his sensual mouth curved into a smile.

  “Bess, you are so damned clever, and that is one of the reasons I am obsessed by you. It is part of your fatal allure.”