Rose Bride (6 page)

‘I am hardly young, Kate. I am seven and twenty years of age. Nor am I ever likely to be wed. Not with my reputation.’

‘Reputations can be fixed.’ Kate shrugged carelessly. ‘Besides, there is always some wealthy old man willing to accept a less than perfect bride if she will serve him well in bed. Look at me. Who would have believed I could land old Master Langley after bedding so many other men before him? Yet he pretended as well as I did that I was a maid on our wedding night, and rarely grumbles when I take other lovers, so long as I give him what is due a husband. You may be lucky enough to find such a man for yourself. Meanwhile, enjoy yourself with this doctor. He wants you.’

Margerie felt her face flood with heat at the mere thought of being in Master Elton’s bed. ‘You think so?’

‘I know so. If you had gone with him and not been such a little coward, you could have been riding the good doctor even now. I swear, he lusts after you. That look in his eyes when he saw you waiting here, your hair loose over your shoulders . . .’

‘My wretched shift, more like!’ Margerie tugged at her bodice. ‘It displays more than it conceals.’

‘Aye, it was a good choice.’

Speechless, Margerie stared at her friend. ‘You think . . .’ Her voice was choked. ‘You think I did this on purpose? That I pretended to be wandering in my sleep so the doctor would be summoned and I could snare him?’

‘Of course not,’ Kate said soothingly, and pushed Margerie back towards her chamber. ‘Else you would have gone with him when he asked.’

‘Oh, but what must he think of me?’ Margerie closed her eyes in despair. ‘Barefoot too.’

‘He will think you wanton.’

‘I know it.’

Kate laughed at her dismay, embracing her in the doorway to the women’s bedchamber. ‘Come now,’ she whispered in her ear, ‘where is the harm in a little lustful dalliance with a physician? Master Elton is not the king, after all. He is not a
dangerous
man.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘It is being whispered about the court that the queen will be found guilty and executed for treason.’

Virgil looked up from the medicament he was mixing. ‘So I understand,’ he muttered, keeping his voice low in case one of the servants should overhear. It was difficult not to let his disgust show. ‘Her trial has been undertaken in unseemly haste, so the king may marry Mistress Seymour as soon as possible.’

‘Careful, Virgil.’

He took a slow breath, then expelled it. His master was right. Walls had ears.

‘Have Cromwell and the others finished their questioning of the witnesses?’

‘Nearly.’

‘And then Queen Anne will face her accusers directly, I suppose.’

‘And the executioner soon after, they are saying.’ Master Greene made a face, not bothering to hide his own distaste. ‘There has been talk among the chief physicians this morning over who should attend Her Majesty at the Tower if she comes to the stake or the block. At least you are unlikely to be required, for only the most senior will attend. For myself, I have asked to be excused that grim duty. I could never witness such a horror. Yet if the queen is found guilty, we must abide by the law. God save the king!’

Virgil muttered the well-worn phrase too, knowing it would be expected, but in his heart he knew himself sickened by what this monarch was doing. Executing the queen on charges so unlikely they must surely have been falsified, just so His Majesty might marry a fresh young virgin better suited to grant him a son.

‘But how goes that exotic potion of yours? The one that will help the king perform his duties as a new husband?’ Master Greene smiled, seeming to put aside the queen’s impending death without too much trouble. ‘Is it ready to try yet?’

‘Not quite. I am still waiting on a few ingredients, all very difficult to obtain. Indeed, one substance is on its way here from the East. I ordered some from my supplier, but he has none left and is waiting on a new shipment that is nearly a full month late. He fears the merchant ship may have been lost at sea.’

Master Greene crossed himself piously. ‘That is sad news. God rest their souls.’

‘Yes.’ Virgil frowned. ‘If the ship has gone down, you realise, and I am unable to find that ingredient elsewhere, it may severely delay my work.’

‘The king has been asking about it. You cannot disappoint him.’

‘But without these Eastern remedies—’

‘Oh, there will be no problem with that.’ His superior shrugged, going to the door with a complacent smile. ‘So what if it lacks Eastern potency? Our stout English herbs will do the trick as well, I have no doubt, especially if mixed with undiluted wine to confound the king’s senses and tickle his need for a woman.’

The physician opened the door only to stop, a sudden disapproval in his voice.

‘Master Elton, there are two ladies here, waiting outside your workshop to be seen,’ he said loudly, and stepped aside with only the slightest bow to the women standing cloaked and hooded on the narrow landing near the top of the stairs, their backs against the wall. ‘Pray attend these ladies quickly, then return to your work. Remember, that infusion must be your priority now.’

Master Greene hurried away, leaving Virgil staring out at the two women in surprise. With a jolt of desire, he recognised one as Margerie Croft, the other her smiling friend Kate Langley.

It shook him to feel how swiftly his cock stiffened at the sight of her, his heart beginning to beat faster, his whole body responding to her presence in his modest chamber.

‘Ladies,’ he managed, coming to the door, ‘pray come inside and let me know how I may help you.’

Kate dragged her reluctant friend inside, smiling broadly. ‘Good day to you, Master Elton.’

As Margerie passed him, Virgil caught a hint of her sweet perfume – so redolent of the Damask roses he himself used to produce rose oil – and found himself cursing the smallness of the room, knowing it would be impossible to keep his distance from her. But he could at least maintain some control and hide his erection. He was not a brute beast, after all.

Reaching for a leather apron, he stood with his back to the two ladies as he tied it about his waist. Now his arousal would not be so obvious. Though it might help if he were not panting like a dog with the scent of a breeding bitch in his nostrils, he told himself roughly.

‘Has your sleep been troubled by bad dreams again, Mistress Croft?’ he asked, turning back towards them. He forced himself to breathe more slowly. ‘Have you come for a sleeping draught as Mistress Langley suggested?’

No, he thought, that was a bad idea, mentioning her night wanderings. Now he was remembering the night he had been roused to attend her and had struggled to soothe her fears while his body was shrieking at him to drag her off into some dark corner.

Margerie looked back at him mutinously, her chin raised. ‘I need something to help me sleep without fear of wandering, yes.’ He noticed that her green eyes were too bright, a flushed look to her face, and there were shadows in her face as though she had not slept well for some time. ‘But only if it will allow me to rise in the morning and attend to my duties.’

‘Of course.’

He frowned, wondering again what nightmares would drive a woman to rise from her bed while still asleep.

‘This business with Queen Anne,’ he said quietly, ‘has it disturbed your sleep?’

‘No,’ she said, her manner defensive.

‘Margerie only came back to court a short while ago. She has been in the country some years, you see, so she missed those first days when all the wild stories were flying about, before the shocking accusations, then the arrests . . . they were the worst,’ Kate Langley explained, staring fascinated at the contents of a vast jar on his shelf. ‘What are these, Master Elton?’

‘Pickled sheep bladders.’

Kate Langley made a noise of disgust, then moved away to look out of the high tower window as though interested in the view. He had a feeling she wished to give them privacy while he examined her friend more thoroughly.

Margerie Croft remained still during his examination, but he could tell from her rough breathing and the erratic beat of her heart that she was as uncomfortable as he was. He tilted back her chin and gazed into her eyes, checking for bloodshot or yellow whites. He saw nothing there to worry him. There was a dark smudge under her eyes where her sleep had suffered, but otherwise she seemed healthy.

A soft red tendril of hair had escaped her cap. He tucked it back in without thinking, the intimacy of his gesture an outward show of his inward desire. She sucked in her breath and he regretted it instantly. They were, after all, not alone here.

‘Forgive me,’ he murmured.

She had been silent, staring rigidly over his shoulder. But at this, her intelligent green eyes returned to his face. His erection, which had been subsiding, stiffened under that look. What a beauty she was. A red-haired, green-eyed beauty, slender as a wand but so tall for a woman, more than a match for his own height. He cursed her friend Kate’s chaperonage and longed to be alone with Margerie Croft, to put quite a different expression on her face.

‘What for?’

His mind was clouded with lust. For a moment he could not follow her question. Then he drew a long, careful breath, looking at her intently.

‘I should not have touched your hair like that, Mistress Croft. It is not my place.’

She lowered her gaze at once, and he saw a faint colour enter her cheeks. Triumph swelled in him. There could be no mistake this time. She wanted him too.

It was both a dangerous and a comforting thought. However much he was twisting desperately inside, eager to feel her body against his, he was not alone in this urgency. But to know that only one small step could set light to this dry and very promising tinder was to be tempted beyond human endurance. If she was indifferent to him, it would make his lust easier to bear. Instead, it made it harder, a thousandfold.

He turned away and swiftly made up a mild sleeping draught for her, pouring it into a stoppered flask.

‘I can find nothing wrong with you,’ he managed at last, handing her the flask. ‘But if you pour five drops of this into a small cup of wine at bedtime, and drain the cup, you should sleep sound enough not to walk in the night. You may also wish to tie yourself to the bed, or sleep in some private place where the door may be barred against your escape until dawn.’

Margerie looked embarrassed by his suggestion. ‘I do not wish to become a . . . a prisoner.’

‘I will make sure she takes the proper precautions if your draught does not keep her still at night,’ Kate said firmly. ‘Besides, it is only for a short while. Is that not right, Master Elton? My friend will not be wandering in her sleep forever.’

‘It is unlikely,’ he agreed, wiping his hands on a clean cloth. ‘I consulted with the chief physician after your nightmare, Mistress Croft, and he believes most cases of night wandering are due to a temporary imbalance of the humours. What causes such nightmares is less certain, of course. But I cannot imagine they will continue to plague you indefinitely.’

She had risen and was rummaging in her belt purse, not looking at him. ‘I thank you for your pains, Master Elton.’

‘Please,’ he insisted, holding up a hand, ‘I need no recompense.’

‘But the sleeping draught . . .’

‘Take it.’

Her light perfume was breaking his concentration. He was having a hard time not staring at her breasts, and that shadowy cleft between them highlighted by the flattened gold band of her bodice.

Virgil felt like he was going mad. He wanted her to stay so he could ogle her like a lout in the street, but he knew it would be impossible to work for the rest of the day if he did not let her go.

‘Come back if the bad dreams continue. Or if the sleeping draught makes you sleep too long.’

She curtseyed, and Kate Langley did too, mocking him with her knowing smile.

Virgil bowed. ‘Ladies.’

As soon as the door had closed behind the two women, he tore off the leather apron and threw it to the floor. His hand cupped the large aching bulge of his codpiece, and he groaned quietly as he thought ahead to another long day of meticulous, careful toil in his workshop – with no chance of relief.

‘If I cannot have that woman soon, I shall run mad,’ he muttered.

Some nights later, Margerie could almost have wished she were safely tied to her bed. For she would rather face such humiliating imprisonment than endure this meeting Kate had arranged, an encounter she had herself requested yet dreaded with all her soul. Consumed by her own past fears, she shrank into the shadows of the fragrant darkened garden, glad of the soft grey cloak and hood she had chosen to hide herself from prying eyes.

‘Must it be now?’ she whispered to Kate, her heart beating furiously loud and fast.

‘Yes,’ her friend insisted stubbornly.

‘But if we are caught here so late . . .’

‘Then we will claim to have been out whoring, and no man will suspect us of lying, for that is what they all think we do anyway. Now hush,’ Kate hissed, jerking on her hand, ‘and remember this was your idea and you are doing this for a friend.’

Margerie’s face flushed. ‘Hardly that.’