A Rose for the Crown (42 page)

“Your husband is a lucky man, Kate, to have one as faithful as you,” Richard said wistfully, standing up and pacing the room. “Loyalty and courage are my watchwords, and I cannot gainsay them. But how I wish your faithfulness was for me and not for him!”

They were silent for a while, Richard curbing his urge to hold her again, Kate pondering on her loyalty to George. What of his loyalty to me? she thought suddenly. How many Simons had he bedded after he had declared his intention to wed her? How many since? Was he being loyal now? She doubted it. His sensuality had been evident that afternoon in September with the groom. Funny how she could be dispassionate about that scene now she no longer cared for George.

She watched Richard pace, twisting a ring around his little finger. He was calming himself. Certes, but he has self-control, she thought admiringly. His profile was strong: a prominent chin, straight, long nose and deep-set eyes. In repose his face looked stern, mostly on account of a thin, straight mouth and long upper lip. But when he smiled . . . as he was now. He caught her watching him and came to sit beside her. In that smile, she made up her mind.

“Richard, I must tell you about George,” she began, her eyes imploring him not to interrupt. She must trust him, for she knew she could not resist him much longer. She decided she would not talk of Thomas, because she knew he had loved her and had cursed his inability to get her with child. But she told Richard of her unhappy marriage to George, of his infidelity to her, and of her unsuccessful attempt to seek an annulment.

Richard sat thoughtfully, holding her hand and squeezing it lightly when she came to painful memories. He had seen similar behavior at Middleham between some of the young squires and pages, and his rigid upbringing in a household ruled by his pious mother, Cecily, had rejected it. He looked at Kate’s troubled face, and his young, chivalrous
heart was touched. When she finished, he raised her hand to his lips and spoke her name as a caress.

“Kate. My sweet Kate. What you have endured. It may be I can help you in your search for an annulment, but that can take years, I believe. George will be damned for his unnatural way, but that is not your fault.” Richard paused. “I am sorry for him, for he has lost a jewel. In the meantime—and I am going to make a bold statement now—I believe that if God knows you have tried to do your duty by your husband and that he has rejected you, He will not damn you for giving your heart elsewhere. Can I hope I will have your heart, Kate? Mine was taken when I found you in the forest, and your image has stayed with me since.” He stopped. This was a long speech for one unversed in the ways of wooing, and he wondered if he had proceeded too quickly. He flushed slightly. “You do believe me, Kate.”

She nodded, his earnestness making her smile. “How could I not, my lord, when I look into your eyes and see your soul. How could anyone not trust those eyes, Richard?” She paused, stroked his face and felt the soft hair that would one day be a strong beard. Then she asked again, “What of adultery?”

“I do not believe ’tis adultery. God knows you have tried! I will risk the hellfires with you, Kate, but let me know your love.”

She bent forward and brushed his lips with hers, again feeling her heart give a great somersault. Taking her kiss as a signal, Richard needed no more incentive. He embraced her, covering her face with kisses and whispering her name. This time she allowed his hand to cup her breast and he lowered his lips to kiss it through her bodice.

Kate took his face in her hands and away from her bosom. “Perhaps we should move away from the window, my lord.”

The window looked out over the herb garden and the grove beyond. It was likely one of the gardeners or a groom might wander into view. She was astounded when Richard picked her up in one swift motion and carried her to the bed. He had not given her the impression of tremendous strength, but she appeared to be a feather in his arms. She helped the novice with her complicated overdress and soon the cumbersome garment was tossed aside and his hands could feel her skin under the chemise. They knelt on the bed, facing each other. He untied the knot
that held her cap, and her heavy braid fell down her back, unwinding in his impatient hands.

It was her turn to disrobe him, and he allowed her to unhook his jacket and peel the padded garment off, revealing his short doublet, to which were laced his hose. They had said not a word during the process, mindful of each other’s personal privacy, but their impatience grew. Being naked together was not considered respectful, but a man normally removed his hose. However, that would take time. Richard’s fingers fumbled with his points, but when Kate leaned forward and drew his bent head to her breast, he abandoned the attempt and pushed her gently down. His hands felt under her smock and made their way up her thighs and flat belly to the tantalizing nipples he had seen through the flimsy fabric. They were hard and her breasts silky-smooth and firm. He felt his erection straining in his codpiece. What to do now? he thought in a panic. His hands were reluctant to relinquish their delicious fondling. Kate came to his aid. Her hand found the string and unloosed the offending piece of cloth. He moved his body up to kiss her, and one hand eased her smock higher. Kate thought she would swoon with joy when he found his way into her, but the sharp pain made her cry out for a second before she became used to the unfamiliar hardness moving in her. As she began to respond, Richard’s desire was too much for him, and he came quickly with a groan of ecstasy. He subsided gingerly onto her, unaware Kate had not reached her own climax. She was still moving under him, but in his inexperience he simply thought he was a burden on her and rolled off onto the bed. Kate was not disappointed, however, for the sweetness of the act seemed enough for her, and she found it not at all the onerous business that Martha had claimed and that she had experienced with Thomas. They lay embracing for some moments before Richard asked her, “Was this the first time for you, too? I thought perhaps I had hurt you.”

“Aye, Richard, in truth, you are the first. My husband Thomas did bed me many times, but he was an old man and had trouble . . . he could not . . .” She hesitated, not wishing to demean her first husband, but then told Richard of Thomas’s many attempts to get her with child, including his fateful final effort. Richard kissed her cheek sympathetically and was surprised to taste salt. He propped himself up on one elbow and saw that she was crying.

“Have I hurt you, Kate? I should not have asked . . . I should not have pried. I beg your pardon.”

He went to the ewer and splashed water onto a clean cloth and came back to the bed. He gently wiped her face. His nakedness gave Kate a thrill of desire that engulfed her. She caught his hand and kissed it, lightly biting the fleshy mound under his thumb. Richard was surprised to feel a mounting desire in his groin again. This time, he lifted the smock to gaze on her perfect body and attacked her nipple with such passion that she laughed and rolled him under her. Her shift landed in a heap next to the other clothes. This time, with a little more movement of her hips, Kate’s young body gave itself up to an intense pleasure.

R
ICHARD
EXITED
THE
ROOM
after Kate helped him to dress. He almost collided with Molly, who was patroling the hallway. Molly gave an awkward curtsy, and Richard asked her to see to her mistress. She nodded briefly and walked back into the chamber. Kate’s radiant smile told the maidservant that her mistress had been pleasured. His grace, the duke of Gloucester, no less, Molly thought proudly, as she helped Kate into her new gown. Aye, my mistress is worthy of a duke any day of the week.

Kate tiptoed back to the solar. She had been gone no more than an hour, but in that hour her life had been changed. She was cherished. Nay, she was loved! Her whole body smiled. Her skin tingled, and her mind reeled. Mother of God, everyone will know, she thought as she walked into the room. She could not believe she was greeted with no more interest than if she had been out to the privy. Margaret was on her knees, pretending to be a dog for Lettice, who was squealing with laughter at her mother, and William was attacking the needlewomen with a wooden sword. Agnes and Edith were hiding behind the tapestry as if afraid for their lives, while Rose, looking as starched as her wimple, refused to participate in the game and continued to sew.

“Il est abominable!”
Rose muttered. “Is
un monstre.”

“He is just a boy, Rose. Don’t be such a spoilsport.” Edith threw up her hands in mock surrender as William jiggled the sword in front of her chest.

“William! Not so close. ’Tis dangerous to wave a weapon so close, even in sport,” Kate admonished him, swiftly moving the boy a foot or
two back from his cowering victims and nodding her approval. “There! ’Tis better. Now you truly cannot hurt Edith.”

“Kate! I missed you this little while. You were with Molly, I understand,” Margaret asked from her lowly position. “Are you going to outshine your hostess again tonight with another confection?”

Kate laughed, and it seemed to her the laugh was too loud, too happy and too much for the others not to notice. But no one was observing her strangely, and she concluded she was not looking or acting differently from usual. “Far be it for me to outshine you, my lady. That would indeed be ungracious of me. But this gown is one my husband Thomas had made from his finest silk, and I must confess, it is my favorite.”

“Then I shall be forced to wear my scarlet to give you some competition. The law states clearly I should be dressed more richly.” Margaret smiled, getting off her knees. “Ladies, leave us and prepare my gown. Kate and I shall take good care of the children.”

The three women tidied up the tapestry frame and thread basket and left the room. Margaret sent the children back to their chequers and sat in Jack’s chair, first removing a book she had been reading.

“And where is the lord Richard? He was supposed to challenge me in chess.”

“And so I will, Lady Margaret.” Richard nonchalantly walked into the room. “Will you take black or white? Good afternoon, Dame Katherine, I trust I find you well.”

Kate was dazzled by his daring. She almost laughed. “In truth, my lord, you do find me very well,” she answered as demurely as she could, with a pounding heart. “But I fear you have kept Lady Margaret waiting. She is impatient to win.”

“’Twas urgent business, I am afraid, my lady. Forgive me. But now I am ready for a challenge.” He picked up the handsome chess table and placed it in front of Margaret. He sat on a cushioned footstool and readied the board. Kate noticed a long strand of chestnut hair caught in a pleat in his jacket and rose to stand behind Margaret. She caught his eye and delicately pointed to it, making a face. Margaret was busy squaring her chess pieces, so Richard quickly removed the offending hair, flushing slightly. Then Kate blew him a kiss, and he almost dropped the pawn he was inspecting.

“Come, my lord duke, I have ceded you first move. Will you drop your men willy-nilly, or must I guess where you wish to place them?” Margaret’s eyes twinkled. She had spotted the hair immediately—and its removal—and had guessed Kate was helping Richard from behind her chair. “Do sit down, Kate. You make me anxious if you peer over my shoulder. I am not over-confident, I must confess, and Sir John has vastly overstated my prowess.”

Whether Margaret was merely being modest or Richard unfocused was anyone’s guess, for a few moves later, Margaret captured Richard’s queen and called “Checkmate.”

“I do hope, my lord,” Margaret said with mock gravity, “that you did not let me win. That is no way to gain my good graces, I can assure you.”

“Nay, madam, I know not why but my mind is engaged elsewhere. Forgive me for a daydreamer. Next time I will match you queen for queen.” He was delighted to see Kate blush out of the corner of his eye. He turned his gaze to her. “Do you play, madam? Lady Margaret would teach you well.”

Kate rose and went to help the children put away their game of chequers. “Lady Margaret has taught me much, my lord,” she said over her shoulder. “But I cannot impose on her kindness every hour of the day. I shall learn, I have no doubt. We have a board at Chelsworth.” She returned to her stool, and the children went to their mother. “If you would honor me, I would show my skill at backgammon, but I warn you, I do not play unless I can wager on the game.”

Margaret was taken aback. Surely Richard would take offense at Kate’s boldness. I must teach her how to speak to a duke, Margaret thought, stroking Lettice’s flowing hair. Richard’s eyebrows were indeed raised, but not because of Kate’s flippancy.

“You play backgammon?” Richard was eager. ’Tis one of my favorite pastimes, madam. I should be happy to wager with you. Where is the board?”

Certes, the young man is indeed enamored of our Kate. I wonder how long it will be before . . . She stopped herself. Why, it may have already happened, she thought, looking from one radiant face to the other. By the Virgin, I do believe it has!

Kate and Richard were already facing each other, the backgammon
board between them. Both were digging through their purses for coins. And a wager was made. Margaret smiled and turned her attention to her chattering children.

T
HE
MOON
WAS
BRIGHT
that night and cast a sheet of light along the hallway floor, making it easy for Kate to tiptoe to the solar, where Richard lay waiting.