For the King's Favor by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online

by this summons. No ill will befall you.”
    How many times had he done this before? Ida might be innocent, but she was not entirely without knowledge. The King’s ushers and marshals were responsible for regulating the royal concubines. It was their duty to control the hidden underbelly of court life. But she wasn’t a concubine; she was the King’s ward—an heiress. How many other heiresses and wards had trodden this path at the marshal’s side in the dark watches of the night? He said she was to consider herself honoured, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt sordid, clandestine, and terrifying.
    The marshal banged his rod on the door, then opened it and ushered her before him into the chamber, his hand firmly but gently at her back, propelling her forward. “Sire, the lady Ida de Tosney.”
    Seated on a settle-bench before the hearth, Henry glanced up from a sheaf of parchments loosely stitched together at the top. “Ah,” he said and beckoned to Ida with the hand not holding the documents. “Come, mistress, sit with me.” A nod and a glance were enough acknowledgement to dismiss his marshal who bowed quietly from the chamber. Ida’s gaze flew around the room, but there were no servants; no other guests. She was alone with the King. With great reluctance, she came to perch on the end of the bench and folded her hands in her lap. She wondered if the documents he was perusing were concerned with her wardship. Perhaps he was reminding himself of what she had in dower.
    Henry gave her a long look that dissolved her stomach. Setting the documents aside, he rested one arm along the back of the bench and stretched out his legs. She saw that the toes of his boots were scuffed. “There is no need to be afraid of me,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
    “No, sire.” She pressed her knees together.
    He chuckled softly. “You don’t believe me, do you? Your lips say one thing and your eyes are filled with all that you deny…No, don’t look down. You have beautiful eyes, brown as hazelnuts.” He leaned forward and stroked her cheek with his forefinger. “And skin like the petal of a rose.”
    “Sire, I…” She tried not to recoil.
    “I know what you are thinking. You don’t want to be here, do you?”
    Ida swallowed, afraid of saying the wrong thing. She struggled to make her mind work through the paralysis of fear. “The lord marshal said you wanted to talk to me about my wardship?”
    “Ah, your wardship.” His hand had moved down to play with her braid. “You are an heiress, Ida. You will have suitors aplenty, keen to get at your lands and take a healthy young wife on which to breed their sons, hmm?”
    She flushed at his barnyard forthrightness. “I do not know, sire.”
    “Oh, not at the moment, you do not. You have scarcely arrived at court, but soon they will come, and they will be eager. Ralph de Tosney was a man of standing, and your mother was a Beaumont.” He moved his fingers reflectively up and down her braid, but always travelling lower until he reached the tassel at the end which was level with her breast. “You have lands; you have youth, and beauty and innocence. A prize indeed and one I am minded to keep for myself.”
    Ida’s gaze widened. She tensed to spring to her feet. “Sire, you would ruin me.”
    Henry gave a lazy smile. “Indeed I would, for all other men after me, my dear, but not in the sense you mean. My attention will make you an even greater prize in the eyes of those vying for my wealth and favour.” He indicated a rock-crystal flagon standing on a coffer. “Pour us some wine, there’s a good lass.”
    She was glad to escape to the task but her hands were shaking and it was difficult not to spill the wine which was as red and dark as vein-blood. She was aware of Henry’s scrutiny and it made her want to cross her arms over her body.
    When she returned to him, he stood up and set his hand over hers. “You would not make a good cup-bearer in the hall,” he