The Jewels of Warwick (24 page)

 

 

His eyes darkened at the sound of his wife's name. "Do you take me
for an oaf? I wish my journey to take me back to Kenilworth, not
through Traitor's Gate."

 

 

She gave an airy wave. "The King is not in the least bothered about
Topaz. He believes she is all talk. He knows her not. That is a
great relief to me; I thought he would certainly restrain her
somehow and take her much more seriously than he has. He has been so
caught up with this divorce that he has not had a moment to spare
for much of anything else... Except his most basic needs, of
course." She lowered her lids and looked away.

 

 

"I have heard nothing in weeks," Matthew said, blushing. "Topaz has
said naught since her visit here to you."

 

 

"I cannot help but think the longer she delays, the more organized
and devastating it will be if and when it finally comes," she said
in an appalled whisper.

 

 

He shrugged on shoulder and said in a low tone, "She has but few
supporters. However, this could not have come at a worse time. The
King has some enemies, and I daresay that with the divorce
proceedings, tongues are beginning to wag. There is a great
outpouring of sympathy for Queen Catherine. Topaz might be clever
enough to use it to her advantage."

 

 

"Perhaps. But they are two very different women and though I love my
sister, she is certainly not queenly material, shall we say,
compared with the Princess of Aragon. I do feel sorry for her being
cast off after so many years and understand the people's position.

 

 

"I dare not say it to the King, but I hardly believe the Pope is
going to bend. I am there when he needs me, I comfort him in his
time of need, and make him forget his troubles, but I am becoming as
frustrated as he. Every time it looks like we've opened a door,
another slams in our faces. It's gotten to where we've been short
with each other, not meaning it, of course, but these times are so
tense. I would love to marry him, but, well, it just seems as far
away as the moon at the moment."

 

 

"Amethyst, it has been some time now. Do you truly believe he is
going to attain this divorce?" he asked gently.

 

 

She heaved a deep sigh. "Sometimes it seems hopeless. But Henry is a
strong-willed man. I believe he will achieve his goal. But at what
cost, I know not."

 

 

"And you?"

 

 

"Well...when the divorce is final, I shall wait a respectable time,
then I shall accept his marriage proposal. But not before."

 

 

"Don't you think you'll have done enough waiting?"

 

 

"Oh, by then the frustrating part will be over with! Once Henry is
free, nothing will stand in our way," she said with her usual bright
optimism.

 

 

"And how long do you intend to wait out this frustrating part, as
you say?"

 

 

"As long as it takes."

 

 

"It may be years."

 

 

"Oh, nay, Matthew. Something will happen within the year..." Her
voice trailed off, lacking any conviction, as she thought of what
Matthew had just said. She'd never thought of putting a time limit
on it. But perhaps that was what her beloved Henry needed to get
things moving just a bit faster. "...if indeed Catherine ever lets
him go."

 

 

"I believe it will be the Pope's decision, not Catherine's," Matthew
said.

 

 

"Oh, 'tis so many people," she sighed. "Emperor Charles the Fifth,
Holy Roman Emperor, is Catherine's nephew and does not take to the
idea of his aunt having lived in sin. With this working against
Henry, it makes things very difficult."

 

 

Matthew shook his head and gazed past Amethyst out the window.

 

 

"I want to be everything to him, his lover, his friend, his
confidante, the mother of his heirs, and his queen. But I must
expect repercussions."

 

 

Matthew's gaze returned to her. "I still haven't told anyone. Not
your mother, no one."

 

 

"Thank you, Matthew, for your trust. I shall tell them in good time.
And Lord knows we have plenty of it at the moment. Even if things go
well today, it will be some time before we could make our love known
to the world. And I still fear Topaz and her plans. She is willful
and stubborn, but she is still my sister and I love her. I can only
imagine what the news of our engagement would do to her."

 

 

She shivered as she recalled how close she had come to dying, and
what she suspected her sister's role had been in her brush with
death. She looked at Matthew, whom she remembered had touched her,
prayed over her, helped bring her back to the land of the living.
Topaz had certainly picked a fine man….

 

 

"Aye, you are safer here on the King's side. If this plan of hers
ever does come to be, at least she can't kill you."

 

 

"Are you saying you believe the King would?"

 

 

"He's the King, Amethyst. He can do anything he pleases," he said as
if to a child.

 

 

Dear God, he sounded just like her mother and her Aunt Margaret did
throughout her childhood whenever they referred to her father's
fate. Henry would never do such a thing to her, just as no one could
ever conceive of the King's frustration over the powers thwarting
his need to be free of Catherine. But of course they couldn't they
see that, no one knew her Prince Hal as intimately as she did. Or at
least hoped she did…

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

That evening, a subdued tone enshrouded the great hall as the court
supped, listened to music and dispersed. Matthew was presented to
the King, who feigned interest in Matthew's ramblings-on about his
estates, falcons, and tennis game with detached half-heartedness.

 

 

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.