Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (6 page)

As Buckingham sputtered in surprise she turned to Charles. “Thank you. That was most entertaining. The afternoon had turned so dreadfully dull. As my Lord Buckingham will tell you, I was almost forced to read.” She curtsied to both of them as if she were exiting the stage and the king watched in admiration as she walked away.

“Ahem!”

“Eh? What’s that, George?”

“Oh good. I was beginning to fear I’d faded into the paneling. You cheated me. You and she.”

Charles chuckled and slapped him on the back. “Apparently so George. Though I fear that I’ve annoyed her. I’ll have to do something noteworthy as recompense. But you saw where she put the spoils and I advise you not to go there. It would sit very ill with me.”

Buckingham raised his eyebrows. “Indeed? You know you can’t keep her, don’t you? She’s an unmarried commoner. In all seriousness. Why not pass her on to me?”

~

An unmarried commoner.
That
was the bar, and in it lay the answer. It was elegant and simple. Whatever way the thing played out, the girl needed to be cared for. She needed a suitable husband. A gentleman of rank, but not too proud to take a commoner as his lady. Someone indulgent, grateful, and quick to understand he was being set to guard a treasure. A country gentleman would be ideal. Suitably rewarded to remain discrete when the lady returned to court. Her stint in the country would allow him time to settle things between Catherine and Barbara, and then like the phoenix she might return, reborn as a noble married lady. All that was needed was to find the right man.

“Charles?”

“What? Oh, yes. Thank you, George. I shall see you later. Perhaps tonight at cards?” Charles strode past his bewildered companion and out the door.

Maidstone County, Kent

Elizabeth de Veres spun around in a circle, faster and faster, her arms stretched wide as azure sky and spring green meadow, leafy canopy and silvery stream, joined in a riotous whirl of color around her. When she tumbled to the ground laughing, her skirts billowing about her, her husband caught her safely in his arms and settled her back against him.

“Bedlam has many mansions, Lizzy. Have a care.”

She chuckled and reached for his hand, finding it and clutching it tight to her chest. The sun was warm on her face and even as the sky still spun above her, she imagined she could feel the slow turning of the earth below. She closed her eyes and listened…the shiver of leaves dancing on the late afternoon breeze, the soft babble of shallow water meandering lazily over smooth stone, the insistent calls and soft warbles of unseen courting birds, and underneath it all, the steady beat of his heart and the soothing rise and fall of his breath. “It makes me feel like I’m flying.”

He tightened an arm around her waist. “I shall have to anchor you tight then, so you don’t float away.”

“You should really give it a try, Will. It’s great fun.”

He leaned over to nip her ear. “I have tried it in my youth, with you as I recall, and it gave me much the same feeling as overindulgence in very bad sack. The same tottering walk. The same sense that at any moment one’s feet might leave the ground, which I assume is what you mean by flying,
and
an unfortunate and unpleasant urge to spew.”

“Pffft! I must be married to the least romantic poet in all of England.”

“Think you so?” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m fair certain I can show you other ways to fly.” Easing his fingers from her grasp, he hooked them under the edge of her bodice, tugging gently but insistently as his knuckles slid up the soft outer curve of her breast. He lingered there a moment, caressing the sensitive skin from collarbone to ear, before deftly slipping her gown off her shoulder.

“William. It’s full daylight. What if someone comes?” She spoke in an urgent whisper laced with excitement and alarm.

“I warned you if you married me I’d keep you very busy.” He stopped her murmured protests with a trail of molten kisses to her throat and naked shoulder as his other hand fondled her waist, then edged down her thigh to pluck at her skirt, slowly inching it up her legs.

“Have I told you how very lovely you are? How trim your ankles and shapely your calves? How proud your breasts?” His voice, warm against her ear, sent shivers up her spine

“What arms and shoulders did I touch and see

How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me,

How smooth a belly under her waist saw I”

His hands caressed the bare flesh beneath her skirts, his palm hot against her thigh, and she yielded to his expert touch with a soft sigh. He shifted position so that she lay beneath him.

“I clinged her naked body, down she fell

Judge you the rest, being tired she bade me kiss

Jove send me more such afternoons as this!”

He claimed her mouth in a luscious kiss, his lips covering hers in a slow and thorough caress as his tongue stroked and teased, coaxing her to open. She did so with a low moan, her body sinking pliant into the silky grass as his clever fingers reached higher, exploring the soft juncture between her thighs.

“William…” she breathed, soft against his lips, as her hand slid down to join him, seeking and finding his turgid erection through the thin material of his breeches and giving it a firm squeeze. Her fingers plucked at his buttons and he groaned, reaching to help her.

“Sweet Christ but I am fortunate to have—”

“Praise God I’ve found you, my lord!”

Elizabeth’s startled yelp was drowned by William’s cursing as a flushed and panting Thomas wriggled, half crouching, through a narrow gap in the hedge. Hastily withdrawing his hand and using his body to shield her from view, William straightened Elizabeth’s skirts and bodice before jumping to his feet and rounding on his man.

“God’s blood, Tom! Is a little privacy on my own demesne too much to ask? The manor house had best be on fire or the Lord himself come to call.”

Thomas brushed twigs and leaves from his coat and hair, and collected his dignity. “Your pardon, my lord, my lady, if I interrupted a private conversation. The manor house is
not
on fire, sir, but the king, in a manner of speaking,
has
come to call. His messenger is here and he says it is most urgent he speak with you in person. He has been waiting half the day and grows more impatient by the hour. I—”

He was interrupted by the excited barking of a silky haired white and tan puppy that bounded across the meadow to settle in Elizabeth’s lap, squirming and licking her chin.

“The king is
a
lord, not
the
Lord, Tom. He does not count. And his messenger is naught but a glorified servant. You are my steward now. My representative and the overseer of this estate. Would you jump if the king’s coachman told you to do so?”

“No, my lord but—”

“Quite so. So there’s no need to go flailing about the countryside crashing through bushes into private places. Let him be patient. See that he’s wined and dined and tell him we will attend him when we are ready.”

Tom made one last effort. “But he is not a coachman, Master William. He is a royal messenger. A representative of the king.”

And have you ever seen me brought to heel by a snap of His Majesty’s fingers?”

“Never…Master William,” Tom said with a tired sigh. “Nor have I ever seen you anger him as you did this last time.”

“Yet he sent us a cherished personal memento as a wedding gift. It would seem all is forgiven.”

“I rather think he meant Charlie for me,” Elizabeth said, hugging the spaniel to her chest.

“Charlie, heel!” The pup looked up and scrambled off Elizabeth’s lap to sit at William’s feet, his thick tail thumping on the ground as his body quivered in anticipation. William picked up a small branch and sent it hurling through the air. “Fetch, Charlie.”

“William, you’re a very bad man!”

He grinned and winked, then turned back to Tom and put an arm on his shoulder, leaning close so only he could hear. “Few ever have reason to climb this hill, Tom. You have stumbled upon a private retreat. One my lady and I have shared since childhood. Unless we are under attack, in imminent danger, or the house really
is
on fire, I should like it to stay that way. I know I can trust you to guard our secret.”

“Of course, my lord. With my life!”

“Excellent! Off you go then. We’ll be along in due time.”

“Oh, William. Do you think he saw?” Elizabeth asked in a breathless whisper after he had left. “What he must have thought!”

“Does it excite you? Your eyes are alight and your cheeks are apple-red. It’s very becoming.”

“I was embarrassed,” she said with a sniff.

“Were you?” he inquired playfully. He was stretched out on his side, his head resting on his bent arm, tickling the delicious mounds cunningly displayed by her décolletage with a long blade of grass.

“‘As Chloris full of harmless thought

Beneath the Willows lay,

Kind Love a comely Shepherd brought

To pass the time away:

She blusht to be encounter'd so

And chid the amorous Swain;

But as she strove to rise and go

He pull'd her down again.

A sudden passion seiz'd her heart

In spight of her disdain,

She found a pulse in e'ry part...”

His fingers skimmed the soft skin between her wrist and elbow and her shiver was not from embarrassment or cold.

“And love in e'ry Vein.’
There’s no call to be embarrassed. He saw us embracing in the grass and nothing more. Hardly scandalous and certainly no worse than he what he does with his pretty Janet in their golden bower above the stables.”

“Jeannette.”

“Mmm, yes her,” he agreed, nuzzling her neck.

“I suppose he must have seen a great deal more, living with you in London.”

“Hush, my sweet, I prefer not to revisit it.” His thumb parted her lips and he kissed the bottom curve. “The only fond remembrances I have from then are of you.”

“But London has come to us, Will. What do you think Charles wants?”

He groaned in exasperation, and rolled onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows. The puppy, expecting a game, began running around them in excited circles.

“Charlie sit!”

Charlie sat immediately, his head raised expectantly and William scratched him behind the ears. “Good boy.”

“You never get tired of that do you?”

“No, little bird. It never grows old.” William sighed as the pup wriggled in between the two of them. “I would expect his majesty grows bored, love, as he always does. He will call us back to court. He is eager to see if you have turned from a lovely brown wren to a plump little partridge now you’re married. He will want to see if I still bite and you still resist him. He will invite us to come for his wedding.”

“I thought he was about to be married a year ago.”

“He was. These things take time for kings. Contracts must be negotiated, dowries allotted. Bridal portions agreed upon and papers signed. The whole affair is managed in stages. The contract was signed a year ago, which in effect made her legally his wife. She has only just been married in Lisbon by proxy, and will arrive on British soil in a month from now, where the thing will consummated at last.”

Elizabeth shifted position, laying her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I have been so blissfully happy this past year, Will. If that’s what he wants of us, is there some way we can refuse?”

“I’ve no great desire to return to court, love. The country air agrees with me and I have all I need right here.” He smiled as her stroked her hair. “I can make some excuse or another. Charlie rarely maintains a grudge. It’s too much work.”

“He’s been very gracious under the circumstances. Sending us little Charlie when he heard we were married, and leaving us in peace though you were supposedly banished to France.”

“We were amongst his favorite entertainments. I wonder how he knew that we were to marry.”

“I wrote him, of course. How could I not? Instead of coming after you he let me keep you. You give him too little credit. He is fond of you. I believe your words hurt him.”

He grunted. “Make no mistake, love. There’s no man on earth truly offended by having his tarse favorably compared to a scepter, particularly in public. And as I recall, you were quite taken with him, and he was very fond of you.”

“He is a charming man. I enjoyed his company. But I’d much rather stay right here at home.”

Since William’s banishment from court for the scandalous poem he had left nailed to the palace gates, Elizabeth had never been happier. They lived in their own charmed world here in Kent, along with their little family of retainers. Samuel ruled the grounds and was busy planning a new orchard and everyone, including his wife Mary, practiced excuses to escape him when he began talking about his shrubs. Thomas had learned his sums, been promoted to steward and had married his Jeanine who was expecting a child to the delight of them all. When Marjory and Mary weren’t sewing baby clothes they lorded over the weekly market from their justly famous baked goods stall. And as for William…she turned into his touch with a happy sigh.

William’s writing was prolific and had never been better even though the demons he’d claimed as muse appeared in full retreat. They had cleared and redecorated the house from top to bottom and he slept well every night. Their home had become a joyous place where dark memories held no sway. He still had his cravings, but Elizabeth shared them too, and they delighted in indulging one another day or night, in every private bower, in woodland or meadow, garden or house. But what would happen to him back in London, the place that had been Lord River’s home?