He’d shaved his beard off, and his cheeks were smooth and pale. She loved the beard, but she loved him clean-shaven equally.
He was still her lion.
He was wearing burgundy velvet with gold stitching—an ensemble most befitting a meeting with the queen. Even in sleep he appeared to be the most proper courtier, but out in the wilds of Scotland he was a wanderer, fit for the life and liking it. He was a chameleon, this husband of hers, and she marveled anew that he was actually hers, and she was his, and they were bound together forever. The thought wasn’t horrifying, as it once had been, but it was definitely intimidating. He was a person who had led a rich life full of intrigue and travels, and she was merely a lady from the French court, thrust upon her aunt as a charity case. She could never compete with Simon in life’s adventures.
She did not deserve this grand man who was larger than life, but nevertheless he was hers, and she was going to keep him and love him.
His eyes fluttered open and he smiled at her. “Good afternoon, Magpie.”
“I need a pet name for you,” she said.
“And what would it be if you had one?”
“You’ve always reminded me of a lion.”
The one brow that she could see rose. “Why a lion?”
“Because of your coloring. And you remind me of a predator, always stalking, always alert. And while we were running from Edinburgh, you protected me.”
“Because you are my lioness.”
She shook her head. “I’m not that ferocious. Magpie suits me better. I can look pretty. I can preen, and I am delicate and useless. I can’t even sing like a bird.”
His one brow came down in a frown. “None of that is true except for looking pretty. You are definitely ferocious.”
“I am not. There is no need to lie.”
Beneath the covers, he found her hand and held it. She liked the simple connection between them.
“I was very impressed with you when we went into hiding at the palace. And not once did you swoon or cry or complain when I took you through the streets of Edinburgh in such a circuitous route that it made your feet bleed. Or when you found yourself in a most inappropriate printer’s shop. Or when we had to leave Edinburgh and race toward London. Or when Rowland tried to kill you—”
She freed her one hand from the blankets and placed it over his mouth. “Enough. I did what I had to do.”
He kissed her fingers and pushed her hand away with a thrust of his chin. “And that is exactly what I do, day in and day out. We are not so different, you and I.”
She kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you for that. How was your meeting with the queen?”
He hesitated.
“My apologies. It was inappropriate for me to ask and none of my business.”
“No, no. Of course there are some things I won’t be able to tell you, but you were right next to me through all of this. There are no secrets between us in that regard.” He paused thoughtfully, adjusting his arm around her shoulders so that her head was nestled firmly in the warm nook between his shoulder and his chest. He began to rub her back in slow, distracted circles as he reflected on the meeting with the queen. Aimee felt herself relaxing under the soothing rhythm of his caress, comforted by the steady, constant pounding of his heart. “She was angry that Mary had been assaulted and that such a heinous crime had been perpetrated in her presence. She is grateful that Mary and the baby are unharmed.”
“As am I.” Aimee sensed that he was keeping something from her, that something was bothering him, but she felt it was not her place to push. This was new territory, being the wife of a spy. What was she allowed to ask, and when should she keep her mouth shut? It was all very confusing.
“She wants to meet you tonight,” he said.
Aimee sat up quickly and looked at Simon in horror. “Tonight? As in this night?”
His lips twitched in a smile. “I know no other tonight.”
“I have nothing to wear. I’m not prepared.”
He drew her back down into the softness of the bed. Truly, it was the softest bed she’d ever been in, and while she’d seriously contemplated never leaving it, the queen of England apparently wanted to meet with her.
“You can’t be surprised. I left her unwed and came back to her with a wife. She’s curious. She’s going to want to meet you.”
“Well, of course I had expected her to want to meet me, but not yet.”
“Then when?”
“I don’t know. A few years, maybe.”
He laughed. “Ah, Magpie, I love you so.”
She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing those words and couldn’t believe that, God willing, she would have a lifetime of them.
“I am very serious, Simon.”
“And so is Elizabeth. She is intent on meeting you, and you can’t tell her no. Have you seen this place? We can definitely find you something to wear from the many closets in the palace.”
—
Simon was right, as always. From somewhere in the depths of the palace, a servant produced a dress so exquisite that Aimee, who had been accustomed to beautiful gowns at one time, gasped when she saw it.
It was a gorgeous deep blue with a silver-stitched overlay that opened up to reveal the blue gown beneath. The square bodice was trimmed in silver, and the sleeves were full and ruffled.
It took two maids to get her into it, and some adjustments had to be made, but in the end it looked as if it had been tailored for her.
Matching shoes came next. They were a bit big, but she could live with that.
A girl came to do her hair, pulling it into a bun and securing it with silver combs. Small tendrils were left to curl around her face.
The girl stepped away, playing with a curl here and there, looking her over critically as Simon stepped in and leaned against the doorjamb to observe.
Quickly all the servants left, and Aimee slowly turned toward her husband.
“You are magnificent,” he said.
He was wearing a deep green coat and breeches the color of the forest. His hair was brushed until it shone with golden hues.
“If I’m magnificent, then there are no words for you,” she said.
He pushed away from the door and sauntered toward her, reminding her of the lion they had spoken of.
Nervously Aimee plucked at her skirts. “Am I fit enough for the queen?”
“Absolutely.”
He held out his hand. Dangling from it was the biggest, clearest, most beautiful sapphire that she had ever seen, hanging from a silver chain.
She gasped, her gaze flying to his. “What is this?”
“In all of our marriage, I have never given you jewels. You deserve jewels.”
“In all of our marriage? We’ve not been married a month yet.”
He shrugged. “Too long to go without jewels.”
She stared in wonder at the sapphire, which was as big as his thumb. “This is mine?”
“Yes.”
“Simon, you shouldn’t have.”
“I can afford it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No,” she said, appalled that he would think her so crass. “Of course that’s not what I’m worried about.”
“I can afford many more, and I will buy you many more, but I thought this suited your gown.”
“It matches almost perfectly.”
“Then I did well.”
“You most certainly did. Thank you, but I don’t need jewels. I’ve never been one to collect them.”
“And that is one of the things I love about you, but you will wear this one tonight. Never let it be said that I let my wife visit the queen without the correct accoutrements.”
—
If Whitehall Palace looked enormous from the outside, that was nothing compared to the inside. It stretched for blocks and blocks, and it seemed to Aimee that their rooms were the farthest from the queen’s Presence Chamber that a body could get. One could hide in this palace and ne
ver be seen. Then again, they’d hidden at Holyrood and hadn’t been seen there, either.
“What about Judith?” she asked, suddenly remembering Simon’s sister, chagrined that she had forgotten a person who was obviously so important to him.
“According to the queen, Judith is thriving under her tutelage.”
She looked at him sharply, sensing bitterness in his tone. Something had happened during his meeting with the queen, and he wasn’t telling her what. She wanted to ask, but now was not the time.
Occasionally he would nod at someone they passed. People here showed him respect, and she wondered whom he pretended to be in these halls. Certainly they couldn’t know his true purpose. So what story had he told these people? And shouldn’t she know these things?
Simon slowed and Aimee matched his steps, shooting him a curious look.
“We’re getting close,” he said.
“Merde,” she whispered. She fluffed out her skirts, straightened her sleeves, adjusted her bodice.
“You look beautiful,” Simon said.
She laughed nervously. “You have to say that.”
He took her by the shoulders and turned her toward him. “I don’t have to say that. I say it because it’s the truth. You’re beautiful, inside and out. Now show Elizabeth that.”
The massive doors to Elizabeth’s Presence Chamber opened, and they were called inside. But Simon held Aimee back. “Elizabeth is worried about our marriage,” he said. “I had to tell her that Mary thought you were a spy, and she’s…cautious.”
“Cautious? Wha—”
He gently nudged her forward, as all eyes were on them after being announced, but Aimee hesitated. “Simon, what do you mean?”
Simon put her hand on his arm and walked them through the massive doors. Aimee wanted to pull him to a stop. She wanted to demand to know what he was talking about. She wanted an explanation.
What did he mean, Elizabeth was cautious? What did he mean, Elizabeth was worried about their marriage?
The Presence Chamber was long, and Elizabeth was way at the other end of it. People were gathered here and there, pushed to the sides of the room. Some turned to watch their progress; others were too involved in their conversations to care.
Even so, Aimee felt very conspicuous, and she desperately wanted to drag Simon to the side and ask him what he’d meant, but Elizabeth was watching them.
She sat regally on her tall throne, her hair a flaming red, her face pale. She was dressed extravagantly yet elegantly in burnt orange and gold. Her fingers were covered in rings. Her hood was tall, making her seem larger than she actually was. She watched their progress with a distant expression, as if her mind were elsewhere. And it probably was, considering she was running an entire country. Simon and Aimee should be the least of her worries.
Simon stopped and bowed low while Aimee, well aware that she was representing the Marcheford name and her French heritage, curtsied so low that her legs trembled and she felt certain that her nose was going to touch the ground.
Simon took Aimee’s hand and pulled her up. “Your Majesty, may I present my wife, Lady Aimee Marcheford, previously Lady Aimee de Verris.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin and eyed Aimee over her nose, looking her up and down until Aimee wanted to squirm under the scrutiny. The queen’s impassive expression did not reveal any of her thoughts and it was disconcerting to Aimee.
“Lady Marcheford,” she finally said. “I don’t recall hearing of a family named de Verris.”
“We are related to Catherine de Medici, Your Majesty. My mother is her sister.”
“I see.” A long pause followed. Drawing from her years in the French court, Aimee kept herself still and refused to fidget like she wanted to.
“Simon tells me you are wed,” the queen said.
“We are, Your Majesty. At the behest of Queen Mary.”
“And how do you feel about that? Surely you’d rather live in France, among your people.”
Aimee hesitated, knowing that what she said next was of paramount importance. “I would have agreed with you at first. I did not want to be wed to Sir Simon at all and desperately wanted to return to my home. But Simon has saved my life more than once, and he has proved his love and loyalty to me many times over. There is nowhere that I want to be more than by his side.”
Beside her, she could feel Simon tense and hoped she had not said something she shouldn’t have.
Elizabeth continued to take her measure, her gaze moving up and down. Aimee was eternally grateful to whatever servant had found this gown, for she was definitely being weighed and measured as a suitable wife to one of England’s best spies.
“I will be honest, Lady Marcheford, I do not like the idea that you were a spy in Mary’s court.”
Aimee dipped her head. “I understand, Your Majesty.”
“You have nothing else to say to that, girl?”
Aimee jerked her head up, surprised at the queen’s acerbic tone. “Only that it had not been my intention to spy. I was under the command of Catherine. She sent me from my home and told me I could return if I did this one thing.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Elizabeth said. “The woman is manipulative and untrustworthy.”
Aimee bit back her smile.
The queen turned to Simon. “I will keep my eye on this marriage.”
He dipped his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“That is not my blessing,” she warned. “I will withhold my blessing until I find that it is appropriate.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth sighed as if she had wanted some sort of reaction from Simon and failed to get it.
“May I inquire after my sister?” Simon asked.
“Ah, yes. Judith.” She looked off into the distance for a long moment, and Aimee began to get a bad feeling. Elizabeth lowered her gaze, which had cooled, and pinned Simon with it. “I do not like that you are married to someone who was sent to spy on another monarch. I feel that is not a proper environment for a young girl to be in.”
Simon’s shoulders snapped back and his expression turned hard. Aimee put a stilling hand on his arm. He was practically vibrating with tension.
“Your Majesty—”
She shook her head. “No, Sir Simon. I cannot do it. Judith should not be exposed to such things.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Aimee said, at the last minute tempering her tone.
Elizabeth sliced her a smoldering look, silencing Aimee immediately. Her heart was sinking, and it felt as if her entire world were crumbling. Elizabeth was making Simon choose between his sister and his wife. This was completely unfair, yet she couldn’t tell a monarch that. Not if she wanted to live.
She looked at Simon out of the corner of her eye. He was furious and not hiding it well at all.
“This is wrong,” he said to Elizabeth, making Aimee cringe.
Elizabeth’s eyes snapped. “Make certain you remember whom you are speaking to,” she warned.
“I have given you everything,” he said softly, so others could not hear. “I have risked my life on numerous occasions for you. All I want to do is retire in peace to the country with my family, and yet you block even this.”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together and her nose pinched in anger. “Watch your words, Sir Simon.”
For a long, tense moment in which Aimee and, it seemed, the entire room, held their breath, Simon and Elizabeth glared at each other. Others couldn’t hear the conversation, but everyone could sense the tension between the two.
Finally Simon bowed and backed away. Aimee hurriedly curtsied and followed Simon, backing away with her head down, as one did not turn one’s back on a queen.
It seemed to take longer for them to leave the hall than it had to walk through it initially. This time all eyes were on them, but Aimee kept her eyes down and didn’t look at anyone.
As soon as they exited the doors, Simon turned around and closed his eyes, breathing deeply in an effort
to control his raging anger.
Unsure what to do, Aimee just stood there, hoping her presence was enough.
Inside she was battling her own anger at the unfairness of everything. Catherine was the closest one could be to a monarch without being one, and she had sent Aimee from her home and the man she’d thought she loved. Mary had forced Aimee to wed Simon, and now Elizabeth was forcing Simon to choose between his wife and his sister. For her entire life, she had been pushed around by one monarch after another, and she was weary of it. Weary and furious.
Chapter 31
“Simon!” A blur of green silk ran past Aimee, causing her to step back or be run over. The green silk, which was all legs and arms and bright blond hair, catapulted itself at Simon. Just in time, Simon opened his arms and caught the ball of energy.
“Judith?”
Merde, it was his sister. Aimee took another step back, not wanting to intrude, yet curious to see her. She could tell nothing at the moment because Judith was folded into her brother’s arms and was hugging him tightly.
He lowered her to the ground, and she practically bounced from foot to foot. “I wasn’t told you were back,” she scolded. “Why did no one tell me?”
Simon laughed. “I don’t know.”
“How long will you be here? How much time do you have?”
“Judith.” The warning came from a sour-faced servant standing to the side. She was dressed in the garb of a governess. “Decorum,” she said with a knowing look.
Judith stopped prancing, but she was practically vibrating with excitement. Simon frowned at the woman before turning his attention to Judith.
“Hopefully I am here to stay,” he said.
“For good? Truly?” She clapped.
“For good. Truly. There’s someone I would like you to meet.”
Aimee took another step back, strangely reluctant to meet Simon’s sister and to intrude on what was obviously rare family time.
Simon held his hand out to her, and she could do nothing but take it and let him pull her forward. Judith looked up at her with the same chocolate-brown eyes that her brother had. Her hair was much lighter, a sunshine yellow, but she had the same golden coloring.
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