Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) by Eliza Knight, E. Knight Read Free Book Online

descended the dais to place my hand on Lord Beauchamp ’s arm.
    He leaned close to whisper, “Thank you for agreeing to dance with me.”
    “I did no such thing,” I said haughtily.
    “Ah, but you did. You could have refused, feigning a megrim or stomach-ache, and yet you did not.” We reached the dancing group, and he spun me to face him. “You also, might I add, affected the most perfect visage of boredom. You must know your young husband well to realize that such reaction would please him and allow you to go with me.”
    My lip curled at his words. “I merely play the game, my lord. I have been sitting for hours watching all celebrate, and I wished to dance before my limbs became permanently fastened to the chair.”
    “A lady with an agenda. You will be formidable when you gr—” He cut himself short and looked away.
    “When I what, my lord?” My gaze boldly met his, daring him to finish his offensive remark on my age.
    His eyes sparked with intensity. “I merely meant to say, when you have had time to ripen with experience.”
    “I am a woman married, am I not?” Challenging this man was thrilling.
    He clamped his lips closed and refused to answer.
    “Tell me truly what you think, my lord.” My voice sounded breathy, even to me.
    “If I were to tell you, it would only anger you.”
    “’Twill not, I assure you. I have a strong constitution.”
    “Well , then, I think you a child-bride. All in attendance know that your marriage is in name only and that you will not be allowed to con—” Again, he stopped and had the temerity to bite his sensual lower lip.
    “Go on,” I said with glee, liking how color flooded his face at the unmentionable topic we were discussing. I had not had this much fun in—well, I did not know when.
    “You will not be allowed to be wife in truth, my lady. So I merely meant to say from the beginning that when you are allowed to become a woman, with time, you will be a formidable opponent.”
    I laughed aloud at his discomfort, which drew several gazes our way.
    “You will have your disgruntled husband rushing forth to break us apart if you laugh so charmingly again ,” he remarked.
    “You think my laugh charming?” I batted my lashes, wine making me bold.
    Lord Beauchamp grew serious as he studied me. “I think you most stunning, my lady.”
    Now it was my turn for color to fill my cheeks. I had never been flirted with so outrageously before. Was this how it was at court? I feared I would indeed be a bad wife if such were the case.
    “Thank you, my lord.”
    “I should not be so bold with you on your wedding day.” He glanced away, looking agitated.
    “But, my lord, you said yourself, ’tis not truly my wedding day.”
    The intensity of his gaze when it turned on me had my toes curling in my slippers and my heart pounding in my ears.
    “’Tis exactly the reason why I should not be so bold. For it only leaves hope for a poor sop like myself.”
    “Hope?”
    He leaned in and whispered, “Hope for a chance at your hand when your time does come.”
    With that , he gave me one final twirl and delivered me, speechless and knees weak, back to the dais and a glowering Henry, where I was rooted the rest of the evening, and not so much by a demand but by my own wobbling legs. I drained more wine in an attempt to still my beating heart. But I feared that, instead of quelling my curiosity over my dance and the conversation held there, I merely got myself quite sloshed.
    When the night finally concluded—o r at least when my new guardian deemed it appropriate—I was taken to the barge, along with my groom, to be ushered to Baynard’s Castle. I hugged my sister Mary tight and Jane less so, as she would not allow it. I curtsied to my mother and father, who did not appear to need a touch from me. I had to blink rapidly to keep the tears from spilling over. I was not ready to leave, and yet I did not want to stay here. Rather, I wanted to return to Bradgate and a simpler