The Jewels of Warwick

by Diana Rubino

  Amethyst felt badly for Matthew, but felt worse for the King. She could tell by that certain look only she could discern, the deepened furrow in his brow, that he'd had a most difficult day. She knew he would be at her chamber door tonight.

  And indeed he was. As they embraced he gently tugged at the combs holding her hair in place, letting her locks tumble through his fingers, as he loved to do. They sipped May wine as he stared into the fire.

  "I am so sorry I yelled at you the other night, my darling," he said.

  "'Tis quite all right, my lord. I did my share of yelling as well."

  "Did you? I did not hear you. I was so wrapped up in... Oh, this bloody mess!" he sighed.

  "'Tis just as well. What bothers you tonight, my lord? What took place at Blackfriars?"

  He shook his head bitterly. "Amethyst, that woman is relentless! She rose from her seat when called, and without replying, strode up to me, bearing her royal countenance, got on her knees before me as if I were God almighty, and implored me to recognize her as my humble and obedient wife! She went on to declare that she had come to me a virgin, with God as her judge, implying, of course, that for me to say the opposite would make me a liar! She went on to beg for a Spanish court to hold the trial, as all of my subjects, of course, were partial toward me!

  "After making a complete fool and a liar of me before Wolsey and Campeggio and the entire court, she didn't return to her seat...no, she walked out! Simply said what she'd come to say and swept out of there in a regal fashion and failed to reappear when summoned... three times, no less, but she had finished and as far as Catherine's concerned, so is the entire matter."

  Through her growing resentment of Catherine, Amethyst marveled at the Queen's boldness with a wonder bordering on admiration. "What an audacious thing for her to do. How did the court react to her entreaty?"

  "It seemed to move no one but old Bishop Fisher. He continued, in his stubborn tirade of senility, that Catherine and I are still married in the eyes of the law and the Lord. The only one against me, against Wolsey, all the other bishops...Fisher, whom I'd been born and raised with, that aging, arthritic old infirm! Catherine got to him, all right!"

  "Perhaps Wolsey can appeal to him, my lord?" she suggested softly.

  "I hadn't planned on coming up with an answer to this tonight, but the end must justify the means. Whatever it takes, I shall prevail and I shall produce an heir!" He glanced at her over the rim of his goblet. "Er...we shall produce an heir, pray God," he corrected himself.

  "Aye, my lord. Meanwhile, it has been a tiring day for you. Would a good night's sleep be in order, perhaps interrupted once or twice by a pair of caressing hands?"

  "Oh, Madam, you do treat me like a king!" he said with a lusty grin.

  "I certainly hope so, my lord, for it is no less than your due, and my greatest pleasure."

  She woke in the middle of the night and ran her hand over his warm sleeping body. She took his wrist and ever so gently brought his hand up to her neck and guided it over her breasts, very slowly, until her nipples grew erect under the sheer silk of her chemise. She cupped his hand over her left breast and continued, her voice softer and inviting: "Wake up, sire."

  She lowered her arms and wriggled free of the chemise as she continued to run his hand over her breasts. The silk slid off her shoulders and she guided his hand over her soft pink flesh. He was beginning to awaken now. She guided his hand through her hair, over her face and lips and back down to her breasts.

  "What a way to wake up!" he murmured.

  She touched his half-open mouth with hers, forcing his lips apart with her tongue, kissing him deeply, leaning against him until he rolled onto his back with her pelvis straddling his, her knees aside his ribs. His hand now slid up and down her thigh, the strokes faster, more urgent.

  She rotated her hips, easing him into her, slowly, brushing her breasts over his lips as she rode him, thrusting and undulating gently at first, then more furiously as her passion intensified.

  He clutched at her hips, drawing her more deeply to him. His lips were upon hers in a second, searching, showering her with kisses. All she wanted to do was hold him close, feel his warmth seep into hers, smooth the golden hair back from his face, kiss his forehead, nibble the searching lips. Their only hunger was for each other. She didn't think about the next hour or tomorrow. The moment was filled with their bodies, their want for each other.

  As he moaned softly, she melted into him, and they lay back against the pillows. He fondled her breasts and made a mad rush of desire course through her, starting with her fingertips, shooting down to her toes. It was a want close to pain, an ache they both felt savage through them, so intense they could never seem to get enough. He exploded within her after a few more strokes, then quickly, too quickly, he pulled away, leaving her hungering for another of his cushioning embraces, his ravishing kisses.

  He cradled her in his arms, and she felt herself floating away into a dream. "You are so beautiful." His voice was anticipating, hopeful, his hands lightly brushing her shoulders.

  She felt her body heat seep into his, warming her. Their bodies touched, sending thrills through her, as if the glowing fire in the hearth come alive, breathing its heat into them. He brushed her forehead with his lips, then his mouth closed on hers, his tongue hungrily seeking, drinking her in with mounting passion.

  She responded instantly, her breath coming in short gasps as his hands glided over her cheeks and his fingers fanned out around her breasts, causing her to shudder under his fiery touch. She embraced him tightly, as the ecstasy and fervor they'd shared came rushing back to her. Once again his mouth met hers and reclaimed the newly found magic they'd pulled down from the heavens and called their own. A warm glow of desire nestled deep within her and churned a flow of long-forgotten emotions.

  All this from a mere kiss! She longed for the touch of his hands; she wanted to bestow every facet of her being upon this man. A moan escaped her lips as he ran hot kisses over her neck and soft, sensitive earlobes. His hot breath in her ear made her shiver as she pressed closer, feeling his growing desire against the scanty film of cloth separating their bodies.

  "Oh, Amethyst, be my queen just for tonight," he breathed, showering her with kisses, down her neck, between her breasts.

  "Your queen always, my lord, if that is what you wish."

  "Oh my…"

  She placed her palms against the sinews of his chest, fluttering her fingertips over the brawny musculature. Henry's warm hand stroked her cheek and gently brought her face close to his. He boldly gripped her wrist and rested her hand against the fount of his desire.

  With a will of their own, her fingers began to slowly stroke him. She watched with mounting pleasure as his eyelids closed, and he threw his head back, groaning through lightly clenched teeth.

  As she continued her caresses, his hands began an exploration of their own. She felt them grasp her shoulders, then slide slowly, slowly down the length of her back. His fingers played delicately along her spine, and she arched towards him, pressing her taut breasts against his chest, trapping her clasping hand between their locked bodies. For a long moment, they were crushed together, and she felt her senses spin dizzily out of control.

  She lowered herself to the pillows, onto her back against the cushiony fluff, and waited in panting wonder, her heart pattering intensely against her ribs. Her eyes locked on his face, and his features came into sharp focus. Just looking at him sent a surge of excitement through her.

  But her vision blurred when his mouth descended to fasten over her eager lips. A moan escaped from deep within her, and she surrendered to his demanding kisses. Her arms stole up around his neck, and she felt his pulse beat match the rampant pace of her own.

  "Please," she begged, as his mouth left hers and trailed a fiery path along her jaw, down her throat. His hot, exploring tongue licked the salty slickness of the skin between her breasts. His lips moved to cover a pink nipple, and he nipped it gently. Then his h
and kneaded the flesh of her other breast, his mouth following to suckle at the rosy tip.

  Amethyst sighed and entwined her fingers in his tousled hair, tugging his head lower and lower. He darted his tongue over her abdomen, making her muscles clench spasmodically, and a flame ignited in her soul as he sought and found the center of her desire.

  She would never be more ready; she craved for him to fill her, to make them one. He seemed to sense her immediate need, for he covered her trembling body with his and parted her thighs with his knees.

  He looked deeply into her feverish eyes and the next instant his virile hardness invaded her tender flesh, and the roaring of a thousand storms swelled in her mind and tore through her senses. The muscles of his back flexed beneath her clutching hands as he surged into her again and again. The world spun in a swirling vortex, and explosions of joy exploded in her heart.

  She sensed he had denied his own satisfaction until she achieved hers, and now she knew he was at the threshold of fulfillment. He called out her name, and she held on tightly, as feverish thrills ripped through her soul.

  He was hers. Body and soul. And she his, for as long as the world would let them remain thus.

  They lay in bed, their bodies warm and moist, the soft sheets clinging to them, their hands intertwined. "Amethyst, I would like you to take occupancy of the adjoining apartments to my own, so I do not have to traverse the entire palace to reach you," Henry said quietly.

  She felt a hot blush flood her cheeks. "Oh, sire, I couldn't. That would brand me as your mistress for sure, and that I cannot have."

  "But you are my mistress," he said, his tone of of mild exasperation.

  "I would have hoped you regarded me as much more than that, my lord."

  "You are, love. But you are my mistress, too, in the eyes of the world. You fulfill my desires to the point of satiation. I need no other woman. You are the object of my desires. My soul mate and bedmate. And floor mate and tub mate."

  "But only while we are alone, like now. In the eyes of the court, I wish to be but a minstrel, a servant."

  He gave a short, braying laugh. "Do you not think the court has ears and eyes, Amethyst? By God, the very walls may as well be of parchment, for all the good they do to conceal the goings-on and the cavorting."

  A stab of hurt went through her and she snatched her hand from his grasp, wrapping the coverlet around her. "You consider our time together cavorting, sire?"

  "Nay, you know my feelings for you go much deeper than that, Amethyst...but the rest of the court... They all know by now how I feel about you."

  "You haven't told anyone!" she asked with a mounting sense of horror.

  He shook his head. "Nay, I've heeded your wishes and not told a soul. But when this great matter of mine is settled, I shall announce our betrothal to the world among the fanfare of trumpets, the clanging of every church bell in the realm, the booming of a thousand cannons!"

  "They know I am your close companion and confidante, sire, but do they know what goes on in the privacy of our chambers?"

  "Oh, Amethyst, by now, how could they not know?"

  "I come to your apartments very late at night."

  "And you do not leave until morning. They are not blind, Amethyst. Or deaf," he added under his breath.

  "But I do not want to be known as the King's whore!" she protested tearfully.

  His brows drew downwards. "Anyone who dares to call you that will be banished immediately. I find that now, as it has become obvious that we have grown close, you are treated with more respect. The King's confidante and special lady is a far cry from his whore. Especially now that I have banished Catherine from court, no one sees you as her rival."

  "I just wish to preserve my honor, my lord, as far as I can, considering the position I am in."

  "And what position is that, my lady?"

  "Of a woman very much in love to a man already married, and such a public figure that we may not do as we please the way the rest of the world may, but must bide our time and let no scandal attach to our love if we can help it."

  He smiled. "As you wish, Lady Amethyst. We shall keep our apartments at a distance for the sake of your propriety. Lord knows I need the exercise."

  She grinned at him. "Thank you for being so understanding. And in return for your wonderful generosity, allow me to say that I hope to keep you fit in a far more delightful way than merely walking the halls of the palace, my love."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  As the first rays of light were floating through her windows, she fought wakefulness as she gradually surfaced from her delightful dreams. Disoriented at first, she realized she was in her own bed. Alone.

  The King had probably been up for hours. She pictured him dressing quietly, slipping out of her chambers before the servants were up, taking special pains to keep from waking her. She turned and faced the pillow he'd slept on. A strand of his red-gold hair lay on the pillowcase.

  She reached out and placed her hand gently on the fabric, pulling his pillow to her, hugging it, inhaling his wonderful manly scent. The realization spiraled within her, like tulip petals fluttering through her insides. She was no longer enamored of the bejeweled and powerful monarch reigning over the kingdom from a velvet-seated throne known to his subjects as King Henry VIII. She was simply in love with the compassionate, sincere man that few subjects would ever be privileged to know, the man named Henry Tudor. Oh, what a wondrous destiny fate had in store for them both, now that they were so in love.

  Several weeks later, while practicing with the King's Musick, the door opened and in walked Mark Smeaton, very late for rehearsal. He was followed by a young dark-haired girl, her hair tumbling down about her shoulders, a bright yellow satin gown in striking contrast to the blackness of her hair and eyes. She like a striped bumblebee, all black and yellow and her haughty stare certainly carried with it the promise of a sting.

  Amethyst had seen her before; she'd been one of Catherine's ladies-in-waiting, who had stood out because of her Frenchified rather than Spanish manners. What was she doing here in the music chamber? The court had more than enough minstrels.

  As Mark rushed to his place and adjusted his music stand, his companion sat quietly near the door.

  "Mark," Amethyst spoke up, putting down her lute. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your lady friend?"

  "Oh, I'm very sorry!" he looked up from his sheet music, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "This is Anne Boleyn. She loves music, and wishes to watch us rehearse."

  "Well, if it's all right with the other musicians," Amethyst said, glancing around the room at the disinterested nods and shrugs. When no one expressed any dissent, Amethyst said, "'Tis a pleasure to welcome you to the King's Musick, Mistress Boleyn."

  Anne bowed her head ever so slightly, as if a full bow and sweeping curtsy would have been inappropriate for someone she considered of equal rank, even though the entire court knew Amethyst was the King's closest confidante.

  "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, Lady Amethyst." Her voice was low and soft, a bit uneasy, and she spoke with the slightest shade of a French accent. The dark slanty eyes continued to stare, and the thin lips gave a hint of a forced smile.

  "Do you have aspirations of joining the King's Musick?" What else could Anne do now that Catherine was being banished from the royal household? she wondered. Perhaps the King would consider placing Anne in Amethyst's service once they were married…

  She needed no more ladies-in-waiting, however; she was fully staffed. As she sized up the little minx, she decided that the King could do well by sending Mistress Anne back to wherever it was she had come from. She'd felt a tinge of uneasiness ever since Anne had walked into the chamber and settled in like a piece of the furniture and the more she saw of her, the more she felt sure the young woman was a threat in some way to the placidity of her life here at court.

  Anne shot Amethyst a wary glance as a hand reached up to clutch a lock of her dark hair. Her billowing sleeve fell away and Amet
hyst could see a tiny nub jutting out from her little finger. "I am not sure, although I feel I can contribute a great deal to your troupe."

  "Well, that will be for the King to decide," Amethyst replied, dismissing Anne's presence by strumming the opening bars of her favorite song on her lute, and banishing all thoughts of the girl as she lost herself in the music.

  But later that evening, she recalled the young bumblebee. "Who is this Anne Boleyn?" she asked Henry as they dined in his chambers late that night.

  "Oh, just one of Catherine's former ladies-in-waiting." He waved a hand through the air before plucking up a wing of pheasant.

  "Why was she sitting in on our rehearsal today?"