Read Seducing Anne Online

Authors: Chanse Lowell,Marti Lynch,Shenani Whatagans

Seducing Anne (19 page)

She tried to surreptitiously observe who Guy conversed with at court.

He still spoke to Jane more than any of the other ladies, and Anne found herself avoiding that woman while in her private chambers so that she would not maul that delicate blonde creature to death.

Anne was also clandestine about questioning her other ladies about what Guy was saying to both Jane and occasionally to her sister.

No one seemed to know, or at least they would not say.

Her heart hurt when she thought constantly about how she was supposed to be pleasing Guy and doing something nice for him each day. She had been unsuccessful at both. The French lavender she had meant to give him still sat in her bedchamber, wilted and dried up.

It was dinnertime, and she was hungry.

As of late, she had been eating in her chambers as much as she could so she would not have to see Guy. It did not ease the burden. She only missed him all the more and pined away in a more unwholesome manner where she envisioned him ripping her bodice off, sucking at her nipples and piercing through her maidenhead with his broad, stiff cock.

She marched into the dining hall with her sister silently tailing behind her.

When she entered, the king was laughing with Guy and Jane Seymour at
their
table.

At her table—where she usually ate with Harry. And Jane was sitting in her spot.

Both men seemed completely enamored of the blonde wisp of a girl.

It did not matter that Jane was only twenty, as compared to Anne’s twenty-five years. She was youthful in appearance and charm, and Anne cursed her for having an allure that drew both men who were supposed to be falling at
Anne’s
feet.

Harry’s booming laugh rang around the hall, solidifying Anne’s spine as she pressed on toward them.

She plastered on a fake smile, and once she got to her chair, she tipped it back so Jane would lose some semblance of her balance.

Anne leaned over, while keeping Jane’s seat aloft, and kissed Harry’s cheek.

“Bravo,” Guy said, clapping.

The chair fell back down to all four legs, and out of nowhere, Anne’s back snapped to upright, and her hand flew.

Swwwaaaaaaack!

On the recoil, Guy grabbed her hand.

The king had failed to wince on impact, but she did when she saw the angry red handprint she left high up on his cheek above his beard.

Guy yanked her toward him, kissed the back of her offending hand and then set her palm at her side.

“Majesty, would you like me to escort Mistress Anne back to her chambers since she is clearly out of sorts?” Guy asked the king.

“No, no.” Harry wiggled his jaw back and forth and chuckled. “I probably deserved that.”

Jane popped up out of Anne’s chair, curtsied to her and then scampered away, appearing as if she had been the one struck by Anne.

Anne smoothly slipped into her seat and ordered a new goblet be brought to her.

“Whatever troubles you is no little thing, lavender,” Guy whispered in her ear.

She leaned a little toward him and whispered back, “You, sir, are a douche. Have you enjoyed rooting around with your snout in the muck?”

She reached for her drink the minute it was placed before her and ignored Guy’s silent chuckling at her side.

“I can have some bloody meat brought for your face,” Guy offered to Harry.

His Majesty waved him off, laughing all the more.

She wanted to stab them both and douse them in wine. At least then they might be sweet in some aspect.

“I am hungry. Must I wait much longer for a plate of food to be brought me?” Anne asked Harry.

Without a word, Guy slid his plate over to her spot and whispered, “This pig did not touch this food. I vow it.”

Her head snapped in his direction. “And your word is good for
what
? A pittance?” Her eyes blazed at him, and her shoulders were flung back even more so.

“A garnet ring, I am told.” Guy smirked.

Harry patted her arm as she gripped the edge of the table.

“Now, now, good sweetheart . . . Guy is in jest. He is a good man,” Harry said, chuckling.

“Since when?” she cried out, her head now turned toward the king.

“We have had some time to get to know each other. He is not so bad—he has good taste in women, rather like myself.” Harry’s small mound of a belly wiggled as he laughed.

Her insides recoiled away from him along with his touch on her arm.

“His payment for your new commissioned jewels was that he was to retain your garnet ring he took from you. That is what he wanted, and I see no reason he should not have it.” Harry cast an amicable grin at Guy.

Was there some inside joke between them?

“What if I object? That is my ring. Perhaps I want it back,” she said, her shoulders rolling forward.

“Then you should never have allowed him to take possession of it, should you have?” Harry let go of her hand, reached for his drink and bade her to eat.

For some reason she was aroused when she thought that maybe Guy had at least eaten a tiny portion of this food even if he said he had not.

“How often does Jane sit in my chair? Is it every time I do not make an appearance to claim it?” she asked to no one in particular.

“Yes.” Guy shifted toward her. “She is good company for a king with her quiet demeanor and disposition.”

At that, Anne jolted up to standing. “I have lost my appetite.” She glared at Guy. Was he suggesting she be more submissive and meek like Jane? She wanted to pick up her drink and toss it in his lap since she could clearly make out a bulge in his breeches. Well, if Jane was what he so desired, then she . . . She did not know what it meant or what to do. All she knew was her heart was cracked in two and slipping down her ribs, splintering those on their way down.

“Rest well. I shall see to you later to make sure you are well,” Harry said, not bothering to look at her. He was eating without her.

Guy, on the other hand, watched her every move, gave her a curious, almost apologetic look, but did not take his food back.

She glided across the hall, back out the doors, even though inside she was on the rampage, imagining flipping over their table and shouting in both their faces—especially Guy’s.

Why did she feel guilty for almost wishing that Guy had been banished? How dare he flirt with other women and gain an erection for the likes of Jane?

Without thinking, Anne was racing down to the laundry.

Chapter 9

 

“Oh, excuse me, Mistress Harris,” Anne said to the royal laundress.

The woman immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Mistress Anne, how can I serve you?”

“I apologize for my hasty entrance, but I seemed to have misplaced the key to my lodgings. Can I borrow yours, and I shall return it by tomorrow?”

Harris curtsied again and motioned over to the set of master keys.

“Of course, madam.” Harris went back to stirring the king’s underclothing in her pot of boiling water.

Anne searched through the keys. She remembered exactly what that man’s chamber key looked like. It had a straight cut with a square notch at the neck of the key and the rest of the jagged teeth near the tip.

She grinned wickedly as she departed with the key in hand.

Her legs moved quickly.

They should still be at dinner, and the corridors were empty, along with her chambers.

She unlocked the door and slipped inside, tossing the key to the ground.

It mattered not if she was unable to retrieve it later.

She managed to unlace her dress on her own and let it drop to the floor, covering the key she had just so carelessly flung away.

Her fingers shook as she peeled her shift off.

With trembling legs, she wound her way over to the bed and draped herself across it.

The delightful smell of lavender wafted toward her, and when she pulled down the linens on his bed, she found a fresh sprig there.

She plucked it up, tucked it behind her ear so it was threaded into her hair.

Maybe this would entice him? He always seemed to enjoy her scent.

Anne’s thoughts raced as she considered how he might react to her brazen attempt to seduce him.

What would this mean for her?

What would become of Guy if anyone discovered she had bedded him?

Would the king execute him?

Shhhhhriiiiick!

She had no time to ponder the answer because someone was unlocking the door.

Instead of being emboldened by his impending presence, she shimmied under the covers—all at once, completely ashamed of her nude form.

“Gaaaaawd,” he groaned, in that strange accent of his again.

She gaped at him as he yanked his boots free, stripped off his vest and then paused when he saw her dress on the floor.

His eyes flew at her like a spear. “Anne!” he whispered with a frightening hiss.

“Sir.” Her voice shook, and she curled the covers down to expose her breasts. “Does this please you?”

He rushed to her side, covered her back up and his eyes were closed like he was warring with himself inside his head.

“Is this not what you crave? Female companionship?” She reached out and tugged on the tip of his short beard. He had trimmed it. She loved the feel of it on her hands—in fact, she was caressing it and watching her hands stroke across his jaw.

“Anne . . .” His nostrils flared, and he huffed.

“Yes, my lord?” She leaned in and kissed the corner of his tempting lips. “So beautiful, sir. I dream about you all the time. I dare to fantasize about your touch—about your body on mine. A woman yearns for the touch of a man—but I yearn for more. I yearn for you, and you are more than just a man. You are the embodiment of all I desire. The roughness”—she ran the backs of her fingers up his prickly cheek—“the softness”—her fingers flipped over and the tips dragged down over his lips and down to the dip in his chin she remembered—“and everything in between.” She feathered her lips across his.

He still had his eyes closed, and they were so tight it resembled a grimace. “Anne . . .” His soft tone was pleading.

“What can I do to please you? I want to be everything to you. You should want for nothing, and should attain it all from me, so you never need to look upon another woman. You used to say you did not see other women. You do now. And I . . .” Her voice cracked. “I cannot abide it. It destroys me, Guy. I want that back—your vision solely on me.”

He gripped the wrist of her hand that was on his face. “Anne . . .” He shook his head, and when he opened his eyes, they were darker than usual, like coals doused with water. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You are only here because you are jealous. You will ruin my plan.”

She lowered the covers completely and pried his hand off her wrist, then set it on her right breast. “I long for your hands on my body. Can you feel how my heart flies beneath my bosom? Harry has never inspired that like you do. No man ever has or will.” She licked her lips and blew out. “Please . . . Will you not try to have an affection for me again? I am so sorry I called you a pig and a . . . and a . . . I wanted to slap you, right after I hit Harry.”

“But you refrained, and you mustn’t hit Harry again. He could turn against you and place you on the chopping block. Keep your angry hands to yourself.”

His warm palm stayed pressed against her breast, but it was motionless.

He did not want her.

She dropped her hand off his. “I . . . I am sorry. I did not mean to embarrass you by misbehaving like that. It is unbecoming of royalty.” She moved away, ready to slip off the other side of the bed and hide her head in shame.

“Wait.” He hooked his right arm around her waist and laid her flat on his bed. “Why are you here? Would you have come if not for jealousy?”

“Yes, I would have come. I was failing to obey Harry’s law to keep away from you.”

“From where I stand, you were rigid in that rule. You did not send me notes of favor, did not send lavender and you did not—”

Her chest lurched off the bed, and she smothered his words with her lips. The sprig of lavender dropped out of her hair and onto the floor.

The moment he groaned and opened his mouth, she did the same.

Her legs parted and wrapped around his waist. “Guy . . . Please, forgive me. I was wretched to you. I was . . . confused. I curse myself for reacting that way.” She ran her lips across his jaw, relishing the feel of the soft brush of the coarse hairs there.

“Anne, do you . . . Tell me now—do you love Harry?”

“No, sir. I . . . I think you know I love
you
.” Her eyes stung, and her throat closed off on her once those words were out.

He growled, tipped his head back and then he pinned her hands above her head.

“Do you trust me?”

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