Richmond Palace, the Court of King Henry VIII, 1529
“Lady Rosalind? I’ll
take you to the queen.”
Rosalind Llewellyn
stood up, shook out her skirts, and followed Sir Richard out of the
oppressively crowded anteroom into the wide hallway beyond. She
hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. At court, presenting
the right appearance was essential, and with the kind of enemies
she had, any sign of nerves could prove disastrous.
Despite Rosalind’s
familiarity with the palace, it seemed at least a mile before they
reached the queen’s apartments. Strains of a lute and the hum of
conversation died as she entered the largest of the rooms. Queen
Katherine sat by the window surrounded by her ladies. Her
embroidery lay on her lap as she compared shades of blue silk
thread held up to the light by one of her waiting
women.
“Your
Majesty.”
The queen smiled.
“Lady Rosalind. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
Rosalind sank into a
deep curtsy. “You remember me, Your Majesty?”
“How could I forget?
You had the most charming singing voice I have ever heard and the
sweetness of disposition to go with it.”
“Sweet as a country
bumpkin or a freshly picked turnip.”
The queen looked up
sharply at the whispered interjection, and Rosalind felt herself
blushing. One of the dark-haired Spanish women clustered around the
queen barely bothered to conceal her laughter behind her
fingers.
“Hardly a country
bumpkin, Lady Celia. Rosalind was born at court and lived here for
the first fourteen years of her life. She only returned home to
nurse her mother through her final illness.” The queen smiled
gently. “Isn’t that so, my dear?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.
I—”
Rosalind stiffened
and slowly inhaled. She could sense the presence of the undead in
the room, the scent of stolen blood, the peculiar dry aroma left by
an animated corpse. She studied Queen Katherine closely to make
sure that the scent of Vampire was not coming from her. It never
hurt to be cautious, and she hadn’t been close to the queen for
several years.
She forced her
attention back to the queen and smiled. “In truth I could probably
find my way around these halls blindfolded.”
“That skill might be
useful if the king decides to hold one of his wild masques.” The
queen nodded at Sir Richard. “Please ask the king if he can see
Lady Rosalind today and give his formal approval of her appointment
to my household. I don’t think he’ll object,” she said to Rosalind.
“Your family has always served us well. Lady Clarence will find you
a bed for tonight, but until then, reintroduce yourself to my
ladies and take your ease.”
“Thank you, Your
Majesty.” Rosalind had always loved Queen Katherine and had no
intention of deserting her now, even if—especially if—the rumors
were true and she had lost favor with the king because she had
failed to produce a male child. She’d always been a most gracious
and kind friend to Rosalind.
“Oh my goodness,
Rosalind, it is so good to see you again!”
Rosalind turned and
found herself in a warm embrace. She enthusiastically reciprocated.
“Margaret, how are you?”
“I am well.” Margaret
Sinclair tilted her head to one side and studied Rosalind
critically. “You have grown into a beauty.”
“Hardly.” Rosalind
shrugged. “I’ve just grown.”
She’d known Margaret
since they were five years old, when her friend had been made a
ward of the king’s court to protect her considerable inheritance.
They had been inseparable until Rosalind’s abrupt departure five
years previously.
“And how is married
life?” Rosalind asked. Margaret was glowing, her blond hair
concealed beneath a French hood while her ample bosom was displayed
above her silver and blue bodice.
Margaret’s smile
widened. “I am very happy. Robert is an excellent husband.” She
blushed. “We are expecting a child in the summer.”
Rosalind took
Margaret’s hands and squeezed them hard. “That is wonderful news. I
am truly happy for you.”
Margaret led her away
from the queen and toward the quietest corner of the room. “You
aren’t married yet, then? Is that why your grandfather sent you
back to court, to find a husband?”
“Perhaps. But you
know how difficult I am to please.”
Rosalind tried to
keep smiling. At almost twenty, she was already considered far too
old to be unwed. It didn’t bother her; she had important secrets to
conceal, a monarchy to protect, and many dangers to face. Somehow
she suspected a conventional husband would not approve of any of
that.
Margaret gave her an
encouraging pat. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. Several of the
gentlemen present looked very pleased to see you when you
arrived.”
“Only because I am an
untried delicacy.”
“You are so
distrustful, Rosalind. Show a man a pleasant face and a willing
disposition and you will find your love match in no
time.”
“But I am not
willing,” Rosalind grumbled, and Margaret laughed. It occurred to
Rosalind that if she wanted to conceal the real reason for her
attendance at court, she would at least have to entertain the idea
of encouraging a few suitors.
There was a
disturbance around the queen and Margaret looked up. “I have to go
and attend Her Majesty. She will no doubt be taking a stroll in the
gardens. Would you like to come or will you rest from your
journey?”
“If the queen
permits, I think I’ll remain here and accustom myself to her
apartments again.”
“That is an excellent
idea. I’ll ask the queen.”
A few moments later,
the queen’s court streamed out into the pale sunlight chattering
and laughing, leaving Rosalind alone in the pleasant receiving
room. She picked up the altar cloth the queen had been
embroidering, folded it carefully, and set it back on the stool
along with the tangle of silks.
To her relief, the
faint scent of Vampire had disappeared with the exodus of the
queen’s court. She had no idea yet whether the threat came from a
male or a female. To her delicate and well-trained nose, there was
a slight difference in the odor. Females smelled more like plants,
males like animals. Unfortunately, experienced Vampires could
conceal their scent among the overperfumed and underwashed bodies
of the court. It would take her some time to sift through the
courtiers and discover exactly who was threatening the king and
queen. She could only hope she found the culprit before any damage
was done.
With a sigh, Rosalind
wandered through the large suite of rooms, but there was no further
evidence of Vampire occupation. She paused in the queen’s
bedchamber and closed her eyes. How close had this Vampire gotten
to the queen? If she was a trusted member of the household, she
might have been the last thing the queen saw at night before she
slept. The last thing the queen ever saw . . .
“What are you doing
in here?”
Rosalind blinked and
swung around to see a tall young man dressed entirely in black
leaning against the door. His crow-black hair matched his tightly
trimmed beard and he had the brightest blue eyes she had ever
seen.
“You startled me,
sir.” Rosalind advanced toward him, but he didn’t move away from
the door.
“You shouldn’t be in
here.”
She raised her
eyebrows at him. “And you should?”
He blinked as if
taken aback by her boldness and his amiable expression disappeared.
She guessed he was too used to dealing with the simpering maidens
of the court to tolerate a direct challenge from a
woman.
“In fact, yes. I’m a
member of the queen’s household and I’m sworn to protect her.” He
studied her from the tip of her French hood down to her feet. “You,
however, are a stranger.”
“To you, perhaps, but
not to the court or the queen.” She marched right up to him.
“Excuse me, sir.”
His hand shot out and
he gently grasped her elbow. “Not before I know your name and your
reason for being here.”
Rosalind gave an
exaggerated sigh. “Now you are being ridiculous. If you let go of
me, perhaps I won’t embarrass you in front of the queen by
insisting on an apology.”
Up close, she saw his
skin was olive and that within his fine eyes lurked an intriguing
strength of purpose that matched her own. He smelled of exotic
spices and leather, not Vampire, for which she was profoundly
grateful. Tangling with a Vampire without her weapons—and in the
queen’s bedchamber in broad daylight—was hardly the way to begin
her mission.
“Sir, the queen is in
the gardens. If you insist on being difficult, why don’t we go and
find her? Then you can make your apology and be done with
it.”
“That’s an excellent
idea.”
Rosalind met his
gaze, her own unflinching. “Then let go of me.”
“Not until you tell
me your name.” He inhaled slowly and his blue eyes narrowed as he
scrutinized her face. As if he couldn’t help himself, he trailed
his fingers along the line of her jaw, paused to feather his thumb
over her lower lip. “It must be Helen, because your beauty is
unsurpassed.” He leaned in closer until his lips almost brushed
hers.
She resisted the urge
to nip his thumb, instinct telling her that inviting him into her
mouth wouldn’t be wise. Was he trying to intimidate her, or was he
as intrigued by her as she was by him? She managed an unsteady
breath. For some reason, his mere presence made it difficult for
her to remember her own name, let alone why she was annoyed with
him.
“Do you normally kiss
any woman you find unprotected?”
His smile was an
invitation to sin. “Only the pretty ones. Now tell me your
name.”
“Why is it so
important for you to know who I am?”
“So that I can couch
my apology to you in an appropriately abject manner.”
She couldn’t help
herself. Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “I am Lady Rosalind
Llewellyn.”
He dropped her arm
abruptly. “Llewellyn?”
“Indeed.”
He started to laugh,
his teeth white and even against his tanned skin. “I don’t believe
it.”
“What on earth does
that mean?”
He bowed low and
stepped away from the door. “Just that I was expecting someone far
more . . . exciting.”
Rosalind glared at
his handsome, laughing face. “I do not excite you? In truth, I am
relieved to hear that, as I find you rude, ignorant, and totally
beneath my interest.”
His expression
sobered. “Oh, you’ll find me of interest, my lady. I’m Sir
Christopher Ellis. I’m sure your grandfather has spoken of my
family.”
“I have no idea what
you are talking about.” Oh, but she did, and the thought was
utterly terrifying. She fisted her hands within the folds of her
gown.
“You are lying, Lady
Rosalind. Your kind has lived in fear of mine for
generations.”
“My kind?”
“You know what I
mean, my lady.” He bowed again. “But I’m not going to discuss it
here.”
Her cheeks heated at
the implication that she was naive enough to speak openly about her
family’s secrets in the queen’s bedchamber. “You accosted me, sir. I
was merely reacquainting myself with the queen’s domain, with her
permission, of course.”
“Of course.” He
stepped back and she forced herself to step past him calmly,
without betraying her unease. “How old are you?”
She should have kept
walking, but found herself looking back over her shoulder to get
one last glimpse of his long, elegant frame lounging in the
doorway. “That’s none of your business.”
“True, but I was
anticipating a challenge, a worthy competitor, and instead I get .
. . a child.”
“Do you often kiss
children?”
“I didn’t kiss you.”
He slowly straightened. “Though you could sorely use it. And I
think I might enjoy kissing you—if you weren’t a cursed
Llewellyn.”
This time Rosalind
kept moving. When the occasion arose, she would enjoy shoving his
mocking words down his throat. How dare he suggest she needed
kissing? And how dare he underestimate her fighting skills? But
that was the way of all men. As the first Druid female born with
the mark of Awen, she had worked twice as hard to earn the respect
of her teachers and her grandfather.
She reached the
palace gardens and drew in great gulps of fresh air. He might think
himself superior to her and he might be the most handsome man she
had ever seen, but it made no difference. If it came down to a
fight between her and Sir Christopher Ellis, she would
win.