‘He—they—’ Katharine gave her a pointed look ‘—are back from the borderlands. They should arrive at court before evening.’
‘Oh!’ She felt her heart leap and then start to race with anticipation. They’d heard varying reports of the English army’s progress throughout the summer, but she hadn’t dared to hope for their return so soon.
‘Something tells me the Queen won’t have much need of us tonight,’ Katharine continued. ‘I doubt that she’ll notice if you want to make yourself scarce, too? A headache, perhaps?’
‘Thank you.’ Mathilde smiled, a warm flush rising in her cheeks. ‘I do feel a bit light-headed.’
‘Aye, well, we’ll see what happens. Sometimes rumours are just rumours.’
Mathilde nodded, trying and failing to concentrate her attention back on the sleeve and then giving up when she had to unpick most of her stitches. It felt like the longest, most interminable day of her life, but thankfully the rumours proved to be true.
* * *
Isabella made her way out to the bailey just as daylight was fading, welcoming the King and Mortimer home, though frustratingly, there was no sign of Henry.
‘He’s not here.’ Mathilde caught at Katharine’s arm as they stood off to one side.
‘Hard to tell with so many men.’
‘Not so many.’ She could feel anticipation turning to panic. ‘What if something’s happened to him?’
‘He’s probably just at the back.’
‘I’m going to take a look.’ She moved discreetly away. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Lady Mathilde?’ A blond-haired soldier appeared out of nowhere before she’d gone more than a few steps, murmuring her name in a low voice.
‘Yes?’ She blinked in surprise. To her knowledge, she’d never met this man before in her life.
‘I thought so.’ He made a small bow. ‘You’re just as beautiful as he said.’
‘He?’ She did her best to look innocent though her breath stalled at the words.
‘Just so, my lady.’ The man’s gaze turned approving. ‘I know nothing about anything either. If I did, however, I would tell you that a certain person has been delayed. A small matter of making a report to the Mayor of London, but he’ll be here soon and asks that you meet him tonight in the same place as before.’ He leaned closer, looking at a point just past her ear. ‘It’s still unoccupied. I already checked.’
‘Oh. That was...efficient.’
‘I rode ahead to make arrangements for the King, but I owed our mutual friend a favour, too.’
‘Then I thank you for it, Sir...?’
‘No sir, just Nicholas de la Beuvriere. At your service, my lady. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ He made another bow, took a step backwards and was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.
‘Not injured, then?’ Katharine lifted an eyebrow enquiringly as Mathilde slipped back into place beside her.
‘No, not injured.’ She smiled with a heady combination of relief and excitement, her thoughts already running to the night ahead.
* * *
It was four hours before Mathilde was finally able to leave the Queen’s rooms, running up the palace stairwell and falling into Henry’s arms the moment he opened the door to the upstairs chamber. ‘You’re back!’
‘I’m back,’ he agreed, catching her lips and kissing her until they were both breathless and panting. ‘You got my message, then?’
‘Yes. Just in time, too. I was so worried when you weren’t with the others. I wanted to run up to Mortimer and shake him until he told me where you were.’
‘I’d like to have seen that.’ He buried his face in her hair and let out a long sigh. ‘Although he’s in a bad enough mood. Things didn’t go so well in Scotland.’
‘Tell me later.’ She curled her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. ‘I want to show you how much I’ve missed you first.’
‘Wait... About that.’ He put his hands on her hips, holding her slightly away. ‘As much as I’d like that, it might not be such a good idea.’
‘Why not? I’m your wife.’
‘Because we ought to be careful and I don’t want to risk getting you with child. We got away with it once, but—’
‘Then we’ll be careful,’ she interrupted, pushing herself forward again and stroking a finger across the back of his neck. ‘I’ve thought about you so often.’ She went rigid as a new thought occurred to her. ‘Didn’t you think of me?’
‘Of course I did. I just...’ He clenched his jaw, looking as if he were having some kind of inner argument with himself, before bending down and lifting her into his arms. ‘Every night.’ He carried her towards the bed, dropping her unceremoniously on top of it and then pulling his surcoat and under-tunic over his head in one swift motion. ‘I thought of you every night. In my arms, underneath me, on top of me...’
‘On top?’ She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she undressed anyway, quickly unfastening her girdle and wriggling out of her tunic.
‘I thought about doing this.’ He helped to remove her shift and then rolled down her stockings, his gaze darkening with a look of desire as he climbed on top of her.
‘Really?’
‘And this...’ He slid a hand between them, moving it gently across her stomach and then down between her thighs, making her gasp and squirm with a sudden shock of pleasure. ‘I dreamed of touching you here.’ Another touch. ‘And here.’
‘I dreamed of you, too.’ She inhaled sharply as his hand moved away and he positioned himself at her entrance, dragging her fingertips down his arms and feeling the muscles of his biceps flex beneath. ‘I wanted to remember what it felt like.’
‘Like this.’ He nudged forward slowly, entering her with a moan.
‘Yes...’ She sighed with pleasure, coiling her legs around his waist as all her pent-up desire came racing to the surface.
‘Mathilde.’ He went very still suddenly, bracing himself on his forearms.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing. You just feel too good. I need a few moments.’
‘Or what?’ She smiled. ‘Show me.’
‘Not yet. You first.’ He laughed raggedly and wrapped his arms behind her, pulling her on top of him as they rolled over.
‘Henry?’ She looked down, faintly scandalised by the way her legs were straddling his thighs. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Sit up and you will.’
‘Sit up?’ She wriggled upwards, catching her breath at the quivering sensation the movement unleashed. ‘Oh.’
‘Oh,’ he repeated, grinning wickedly as he stretched his arms behind his head. ‘Speaking as a man who’s spent the past few months in the saddle, it’s your turn to ride.’
‘Ride?’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, narrowing her eyes at his teasing tone, and then started to move, deciding to show him just how good a rider she really was.
* * *
‘If that was you proving a point then I’m going to have to taunt you more often.’ Henry drew in a deep breath and then blew it out again heavily. ‘That was...’
‘Better than you remembered?’ Mathilde laid her chin on his chest, her smile just the tiniest bit smug.
‘What I remembered was good. That was spectacular. If I’d known it could be like that, I would never have made it to Scotland. I would have deserted somewhere around Cambridge.’
‘Then at least I know how to keep you with me next time.’ She half closed her eyes as he stroked a hand over her hair, pulling it away from her back to cool her down. Their bodies were still pressed together, still hot and sticky with moisture despite what was undoubtedly cold air around them. He had no idea what the real temperature was, though he probably ought to draw a blanket over them soon to be safe. He didn’t want Mathilde falling sick with a chill.
‘Ca
n you tell me about it?’ she murmured, her voice turning serious. ‘Scotland, I mean. Can you tell me what happened?’
‘I can.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Not that there’s much good to tell. It was a shambles. The Scots ran circles around us. They knew the terrain and how to use it to their advantage while our commanders did little but squabble among themselves. Mortimer’s agreed to a peace treaty, but it’s a heavy blow for England.’
‘I don’t care. I know I shouldn’t say so, but at this moment I wouldn’t care if the Bruce had conquered the whole of Northumberland. You’re back safely, that’s what matters.’ She pulled herself into a sitting position, looking him up and down as if she were making doubly sure that he was still in one piece. ‘Were you in any of the fighting?’
‘Just a few skirmishes.’ He shrugged, simultaneously touched and amused by her scrutiny. ‘That’s all it was in the end, a few skirmishes, but fierce enough. They almost captured the King on one occasion.’
‘Then surely a peace treaty is the best answer?’
‘Not for Edward. He opposed it.’ He furrowed his brow as he spoke. Opposed it was an understatement. The King had been livid about the humiliation being forced on him. There was little love lost between him and Mortimer these days and the whole army knew it. More and more, Henry felt as though his own conscience was being pulled in two directions at once.
‘So Mortimer overruled the King?’
‘Mortimer and the Queen. No doubt she wanted Edward back in London where she can keep an eye on him.’
‘He’s her son. She has his best interests at heart.’
‘Does she? Or is she keeping him on a leash instead?’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t discuss it.’ She rubbed a circular pattern over his chest, her voice tight. ‘I haven’t seen you for months. I don’t want to waste our time together arguing about the Queen.’
‘You’re right. And about that...our being apart, that is. Now that I’m back, maybe it’s time to ask their permission?’
Her eyes shot to his. ‘To marry?’
‘Yes.’
‘But it’s so soon.’
‘It’s what we planned.’
‘When we were both ready.’
‘Mathilde?’ He sat up beside her. ‘Is something the matter? Have you changed your mind?’
‘No, it’s just...’ She pursed her lips for a few seconds, looking thoughtful. ‘On the other hand, Mortimer’s back and there’s going to be peace with the Scots now. The invasion’s over, isn’t it?’
‘Ye-es.’ He frowned. She sounded as if she were talking more to herself than to him. ‘But what does that have to do with our asking permission to marry?’
‘It’s hard to explain, but it’s not as if we even intend to leave court straight away, is it? You still want your knighthood.’
‘True.’
‘Then the Queen won’t think that I’m abandoning her.’ Her whole demeanour transformed, her face breaking into a dazzlingly wide smile. ‘You’re right, it is time. Only let me speak with Isabella before you ask Mortimer. I’ll ask her permission tomorrow.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
It wasn’t that she was afraid to ask, Mathilde told herself, hurrying through the palace on an errand a couple of days later. It was just that the Queen was so distracted, preoccupied with discussions about the peace treaty, making it impossible to find a good moment. It wasn’t that she doubted her decision either. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more eager she was to speak with Isabella and ask her permission to marry. She’d felt guilty about keeping her feelings for Henry a secret from the start, but now their relationship could finally be out in the open. And surely there was no reason for Isabella to object since the invasion was over, her own promise was fulfilled and she and Henry weren’t even intending to leave court for the foreseeable future. The only real difference it would make was that they would be able to spend every night lying in each other’s arms instead of just a few stolen hours when everyone else was asleep...
She was halfway through the great hall when she noticed the hush, accompanied by a new awareness of eyes following her. For a moment she wondered if she’d done something shocking, like forgetting to dress, but the gazes implied more than that. They were judgemental, condemnatory and something else, some other emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Whatever it was, it made her flush with guilt even though she had no idea why.
Nervously, she quickened her steps back towards the Queen’s apartments. She was almost there, trying to convince herself that she was simply imagining things when Katharine barred the doorway, her face white.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mathilde drew back in alarm.
‘There’s a messenger come from Berkeley Castle.’
‘From the King?’ Mathilde corrected herself quickly. ‘The old King, I mean.’
‘Not from him, about him. You know he was moved there a few months ago.’ The skin across Katharine’s forehead tightened, the tremor in her voice turning Mathilde’s blood to ice.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Her voice sounded odd even to her. Hollow and distant. She knew the words were true even before Katharine’s expression confirmed it. ‘What happened?’
‘Nobody seems to know.’
‘The last report said he was in good health.’
‘Yes.’
‘Maybe it was a sudden illness? A fever?’
‘Perhaps.’ Katharine looked around and lowered her voice. ‘They say there were no marks on his body.’
Mathilde swayed slightly, trying to ignore the implication that marks might have been expected if the former King’s death had been the result of foul play. She didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of that. She had to concentrate hard on not thinking about who might have benefited. Suspicion was not proof, after all, and she wouldn’t condemn anyone without it, especially the Queen. On the other hand...towards Mortimer she felt less charitable. It seemed a coincidence, after all, that he’d recently returned from Scotland—if there was blood on anyone’s hands, then she would prefer to see it on his.
‘How’s the Queen?’ She tried to keep her voice calm.
‘In shock.’
‘Of course.’ The words were encouraging. If Isabella was in shock, then surely that suggested she hadn’t been involved in any plot herself?
‘What about the King? Has anyone told him yet?’
Katharine looked anxious. ‘I don’t know. She ought to be the one to tell him, if she can bring herself to do it.’ She paused long enough to make her next words troubling rather than reassuring. ‘She seems genuinely upset.’
Mathilde crossed the corridor to a narrow, glass window overlooking some gardens. Winter was fast approaching and the weather outside had turned noticeably colder over the past few weeks. If she wasn’t mistaken, there were even a few flakes of snow twirling and dancing about in the air. No doubt that explained why she was shivering.
‘He was a bad king.’ Katharine came to stand beside her.
‘Yes.’
‘He did terrible things. He would have done terrible things to her if she’d failed.’
‘Yes.’ There was no disputing either of those facts.
‘There was more than one rescue attempt. They might never have stopped, not until he was freed. If he’d gathered an army, then it would have meant more bloodshed.’
‘Yes...’ She turned her face at last when the silence became uncomfortable. ‘Everyone was staring at me in the hall.’
‘It’s because they’re in shock, too.’
‘They looked accusing.’ She finally identified the emotion she hadn’t recognised at the time. ‘And afraid.’
‘Who can blame them? These are dangerous times.’
‘But they were supposed to be better ones!’ Mathilde said the words angrily. ‘That was why she challenged her husband in the first p
lace, wasn’t it? To make England a better place, free of corruption and the abuse of power! That was what she said!’
‘Hush.’ Kat gave her a nudge as a door within the Queen’s apartments slammed and Mortimer stormed past, his face like thunder. Mathilde was pleased to see it. If he and the Queen were arguing, then it vindicated Isabella even more.
‘Tend to your mistress,’ he barked and she curtsied obediently. Katharine, she noticed, did not.
* * *
‘Your Grace?’ Mathilde ventured into the Queen’s withdrawing chamber first, half-afraid of what she might find, but Isabella was only sitting, face averted, on her day bed.
‘Can I fetch you anything?’ she asked as she and Katharine moved closer, slowly and steadily, as if they were approaching a wild animal, but Isabella only shook her head.
‘I would never have wished this on him. I admit that I loathed him sometimes. He humiliated me and encouraged others to humiliate me, but I would never have wished for this.’
‘Shall I call for your physician, Your Grace?’ Mathilde crouched beside her.
‘No.’ Isabella looked around finally, her blue eyes huge in a face that looked haunted. Her arms were folded around her waist and she was rocking back and forth, as if she couldn’t bear to be still. ‘I’m not unwell. Only my son...the King...’ She stopped rocking abruptly, seeming to come back to herself. ‘I must speak to him. Will you bring him to me?’
‘Of course, Your Grace. I’ll go at once.’
Mathilde made to stand up, but one of Isabella’s hands slipped out and fastened around her arm. ‘I had nothing to do with this, Mathilde, I promise.’
‘I know, Your Grace,’ she answered at once, the Queen’s obvious shock making her ashamed of her earlier doubts.
‘Hurry,’ Kat murmured as she brushed past her and out of the Queen’s apartments, glad to escape. At this moment there was no sign of her other ladies. They were starting to remind Mathilde of the spies, only it was they who kept their distance this time, as if they, too, were afraid of Isabella.
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 63
