The King's Courtesan. Judith James

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.”

      And so he had. Since Will’s banishment from court for the scandalous poem he left nailed to the palace gates she 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 had a worthy garden at last. Thomas had learned his sums, been promoted to steward and married his Jeanine, and Mary and Marjory ruled house and kitchen as well as a baked goods stall at the local weekly market. William’s writing was prolific and had never been better, and neither had his sleep. They had remodeled the house from top to bottom and it had become a joyous place where dark memories held no sway. He still had his cravings, but she shared them, too, and they delighted in indulging one another indoors, outdoors, day or night.

      She turned into his touch with a soft sigh and he blazed a trail of molten kisses from her shoulder to her throat as his 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.

      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 and claimed her mouth in a luscious kiss, his tongue stroking and teasing, 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, seeking the soft juncture between her thighs.

      “Sweet Christ, Lizzy, 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, 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. I—”

      “The king is a lord, not the Lord, Tom. 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.

      “Just so.” William clapped Tom on the back and leaned 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 is on fire, I should like it to stay that way. I know I can trust you to guard our secret.”

      “With my life, my lord.”

      “Excellent! Off you go, then. Make our visitor comfortable and tell him 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

      And love in e’ry Vein.’”

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

      “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, giving up. “I would expect His Majesty grows bored, little bird, 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.”

      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. We shall write him and thank him and send a nice gift. A fine mare for his breeding stock. And if he presses the thing, one or the other of us shall fall deathly ill.”

      “Do what you think best, William. You know him better than I. But shouldn’t we hear the message before crafting a reply?”

      “Saucy chit!” He snatched her stockings from where they lay discarded on the ground and set off across the meadow with them flung over his shoulder, trailing behind him like a scarf.

      “William de Veres, you give those back!” Barefoot, Elizabeth chased after him.

      CHARLES HAD INDEED RECALLED THEM to court to attend his impending wedding. It was both command and invitation. The haughty messenger in his royal livery was accustomed to fawning and deference. He was not accustomed to being made to wait, particularly by a country gentleman who dressed like a farmer, and his barefoot hoydenish wife. “I say again, sir. I am His Majesty’s representative and you have kept me waiting half the day. I require a response. I require it now, so I may be about my duties.”

      “You’ve received your response. Thank His Majesty for his kind invitation and tell him I will write.”

      Two minutes later His Majesty’s fuming courier was escorted out the back door like a menial by Tom and one of the footmen.

      “Was that really necessary, William?”

      “Feeding hubris only makes it grow, love.” He poured them both a drink and sat down on an oversize upholstered couch. Elizabeth picked up the mail and came to lie with her head against the far bolster and her feet in his lap. “Poor little shepherdess. Your feet are roughened and bruised.”

      “Whose fault is that?” She wiggled her toes in his lap and he took a dainty foot and began massaging it.

      “Mmm. That’s heavenly.” She could feel his interest growing,