Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  ‘I’m sure the Queen would not abandon her.’

  ‘Are you?’ Katharine’s jaw tightened. ‘So was I, once.’

  * * *

  The morning of their departure dawned bright and golden and tranquil, a perfect day for a voyage. Everyone smiled at each other and declared it a good omen, although if that were true, Mathilde thought, then the heavy rain and winds that buffeted their ships barely an hour out of harbour were surely the opposite.

  She was one of only six ladies now. Six ladies and one queen in the midst of an army of men, huddled together in the stale air below deck, speaking little—what was there to say?—as they sailed to invade their own homeland. She couldn’t sleep, feeling queasy without actually being sick, chewing on ginger root so ferociously that Kat had to warn her to stop before she broke a tooth, focusing all her energy on not thinking about the roar of the water surrounding them. It was relentless, as if she were trapped inside some waking nightmare that refused to end.

  * * *

  They had spent two interminable, gut-wrenching days at sea, being violently tossed about and tormented by the stormy waves, as if the weather itself was on the King’s side, until at last Katharine ventured out on to deck and called down that she could see land.

  Mathilde rushed up to join her, leaning against the ship’s railing and willing them safely into harbour. There was nothing safe about England any more, but the sight of dry land gladdened her heart. Somewhere out there was Henry, too, or at least she hoped so. It made her feel sicker than ever to think about what his continued absence might mean. He’d told her to trust him, but it was getting harder and harder not to imagine that something had happened.

  * * *

  At long last they dropped anchor off the Suffolk coast. Thankfully there was no opposing army to greet them, which was a mercy since their ships were scattered and it took an age for their forces to regroup and make camp. The Queen’s was one of the last parties ashore and as Mathilde stepped on to the sand she made a private vow never to set foot on a boat ever again. Now that she was home, she intended to stay there, no matter what.

  * * *

  She had fallen asleep the moment she closed her eyes the previous night and didn’t stir until Katharine shook her awake at dawn. Together they made the Queen ready to meet with her army commanders, but their conference had barely begun before they were interrupted by the arrival of the Earl of Norfolk, the King’s own half-brother, riding into camp under a banner of peace. There was a heavy silence as he walked up to the Queen, bent his knee to the Prince and then put his soldiers at their disposal.

  To most eyes, Isabella accepted the offer graciously, but Mathilde, who knew her better, could sense her surprise. She and Mortimer had expected support, but not so soon or from so high-ranking a source, and it wasn’t long before other barons followed suit. What started as a trickle swiftly turned into a deluge as they arrived one by one to offer their support and lay their arms at the Queen’s feet, swelling her army to twice its size in a matter of days.

  * * *

  As it turned out, the barons were only the beginning. As the army marched inland, southward and westward, from Ipswich to Bury St Edmunds and Cambridge, all of the towns opened their gates and surrendered their keys willingly. The inhabitants looked almost eager to do so, their faces wreathed in happy smiles as if they were truly liberators instead of an invading army.

  Tentatively, Mathilde started to relax and hope that there wouldn’t be any bloodshed or battles, after all. It seemed incredible that an invasion could be so easy, but it appeared that hatred of Edward’s regime ran deeper than anyone had realised. Even so, the truth, when it reached them, was so unbelievable that it took Isabella a few days to accept that it wasn’t a trick. There was no opposing army because the King didn’t have one. His proclamations and summons and threats had all been conveniently lost or ignored.

  ‘The people prefer the Queen,’ Katharine announced, her tone triumphant.

  ‘You mean no one will fight for him?’ Mathilde was suddenly glad of her family’s poverty and obscurity. Even with the best of intentions, her father wouldn’t have been able to muster more than a dozen men.

  ‘He’s brought it on himself. He and Despenser have been too greedy. They’ve ruled by fear, stolen all the gold in the land for themselves and broken faith with everyone who might have supported them. No matter what promises they make now, nobody will trust them.’

  ‘So it’s over?’ Mathilde asked hopefully.

  ‘Not yet. He probably has enough gold to buy an army abroad.’

  ‘So Isabella might still have to fight him?’

  ‘If she doesn’t catch him first, yes.’

  ‘And what happens if she does catch him?’

  The look on Katharine’s face made her uncomfortable. ‘Then it’s up to her conscience to decide what to do.’

  Mathilde felt a chill run down her spine, no longer afraid for the Queen, but for her royal husband instead. They were no longer an army so much as a hunting party and their prey was the King. Even worse, from her perspective, there was still no sign of Henry.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Oxford

  —autumn 1326

  ‘Take this.’

  ‘Yes, Your Grace.’ Mathilde bobbed a curtsy as Isabella handed her a folded-up piece of parchment, sealed with wax. She and Katharine had just finished preparing her for bed in a silk shift and slippers, and after a day’s ride they were all equally tired, but it seemed she wasn’t going to be dismissed quite yet. She took the note and made her way to the door, not needing to be told who it was for. Isabella and Mortimer were still careful to maintain a discreet distance from each other in public and it meant that she was even more of a go-between than she had been in France.

  Katharine gave her a sympathetic look as she left and made her way down to the great hall. Mortimer was busy talking with some of the barons and she hesitated on the threshold, remembering what had happened the last time she’d entered a room full of drunken men. She didn’t want to make the message too conspicuous either so she turned and went outside, on to the top steps of the keep, thinking that perhaps she could find a boy to carry the note for her, but it felt so good to be out in the fresh evening air that she decided to tarry a little while instead.

  Oxford Castle was large, but its bailey was still crammed full of carts and supplies. The town around it was packed almost to bursting, too, with soldiers billeted among the citizens, so many that she could hear the sound of voices outside the walls even from where she stood. She wrapped her arms around her waist and heaved a sigh, wishing that she’d thought to put a mantle on as she watched her breath emerge in curling plumes. It seemed strange to be so much physically closer in distance to her home and yet, in other ways, even further away than she’d been in Paris. Would her father still acknowledge her now, she wondered, if she went back to Rudstone Manor? Or would he turn her away for disloyalty?

  She was still considering the question when a lone rider appeared through the archway of the bailey. Judging by the slow gait of the horse and the weary set of the man’s shoulders she guessed they must have ridden a long way, although there was something familiar about the rider’s posture, too. Very familiar. She held her breath as he moved in and out of the shadows, half-afraid to acknowledge the faint spark of hope kindling in her chest until he pulled his hood back to reveal a tangle of curly black hair.

  It took her head a few seconds to catch up with her heart, which had already skipped a beat and then leapt with excitement, thumping heavily against her breastbone.

  ‘Henry?’ She was so afraid of being mistaken that the word emerged as a hoarse whisper rather than a call, but he lifted his head straight away.

  ‘Henry!’ She called his name out again in sheer relief, louder this time, abandoning all sense of discretion as she caught up the ends of her surcoat and hurtled at a da
ngerous pace down the keep steps.

  ‘Mathilde?’ He dismounted and reached her in a matter of strides, hauling her body against his so tightly that she felt her feet lift off the floor.

  ‘Where have you been?’ She pressed her face into his neck, ignoring the surprised stare of the groom who came forward to take charge of his horse. Henry’s skin was rough and scratchy with stubble and he smelled as if he’d been travelling for days, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was there now and safe in her embrace.

  ‘Everywhere. Or at least that’s what it feels like.’ He set her feet down on the ground again although he didn’t loosen his hold, cradling the back of her head in one hand as a slow smile spread across his features. ‘I was right. I did miss you.’

  A laugh rose in her throat. She felt reckless with happiness, lifting her hands to his shoulders and giving them a small shake to make sure he was real. He’d lost weight, his body all lean, hard muscle beneath her fingertips, yet he looked even more handsome than she’d remembered.

  ‘I’ve been so worried about you. I thought...’ She stopped mid-sentence. She didn’t want to say what she’d thought.

  ‘That the King had thrown me into a dungeon somewhere?’ He made a tsking sound. ‘I told you to trust me, didn’t I?’

  ‘So I did for the first two months, but it hasn’t been easy.’

  ‘No...it definitely hasn’t.’ His eyes darkened as he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own, kissing her with a fervency that made her feel almost light-headed. She gasped against him, feeling a tingling sensation spread all the way from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

  ‘I was worried about you, too,’ he murmured, his gaze heavy-lidded as he pulled his head back finally.

  ‘You were?’

  ‘More than I should have been.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that I seem to lose all common sense when it comes to you, Mathilde,’ he answered, a smile playing about his mouth as he smoothed his hands tenderly across her cheeks, sliding her headdress back and threading his fingers into her hair until her braid started to unravel. ‘But I couldn’t have hoped for a better welcome.’

  ‘Mmm. That’s all right, then.’ She tipped her head into the caress, revelling in the way her skin heated wherever he touched her. She thought he was about to kiss her again, but then he looked past her shoulder and frowned. ‘We might be seen here. Come with me?’

  She nodded and he took hold of one of her hands, leading her away from the keep and towards the stables. She stole a quick glance back over her shoulder, knowing that she ought to deliver the Queen’s message to Mortimer first, but unable to resist the temptation of a few moments alone with Henry.

  ‘How’s the Prince?’ he asked as they went.

  ‘In good health,’ she answered cautiously. Prince Edward was the nominal leader of the army, although he didn’t seem very happy about it. But then how could anyone be happy, she thought, when he was being used as a weapon against his own father? Isabella had made a point of parading him through all of the towns they’d passed through, but the experience seemed to have aged him prematurely. ‘He looks older,’ she admitted. ‘No longer thirteen, but there’s been no fighting at all. Everywhere we go it’s the same. The people love the Queen.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Henry’s voice was laced with cynicism and she felt her spirits sink with disappointment. She didn’t want reality to intrude upon their reunion just yet and she definitely didn’t want to argue about Isabella. She wanted him to kiss her again. Her lips were still tingling from the first time and, at the very least, she wanted some more practice.

  Fortunately, he seemed to feel the same way because the moment they reached an empty stall in the stables, he set one hand about her shoulders and the other about her waist, drawing her towards him as he pressed his lips back to hers. It was a deeper kiss this time, slower and more searching, sending a fresh, even more powerful, cascade of tingles shooting straight to her abdomen. She could feel a pulsing, tugging sensation there, too, something between pain and yearning, as if her body were striving towards some other, new feeling she didn’t know how to reach. All of her muscles and nerve endings seemed to be quivering with pent-up desire.

  Instinctively, she opened her lips and his tongue slipped inside, stroking against hers in a way that both shocked and excited her at the same time. His hands were moving now, too, she realised, exploring and smoothing and pulling her ever closer into his embrace until she felt dizzy and weightless, as if the world around them was blurring and fading away, making all of the past few months spent waiting and worrying almost worthwhile.

  * * *

  Henry slid his hands lower, over the tantalising contours of Mathilde’s bottom and hips, fighting the urge to push her up against the timbered partition of the stall and lift her legs around his waist. He’d thought about her so many times over the past few months, remembering the heady sensation of her body in his arms, but the reality was even better than the memory. She was so soft and responsive, her breasts moulding against his chest in a way that made him feel almost unbearably tight with arousal. He hadn’t expected to see her so soon, or to feel such a strong reaction when he did, and now, despite all of his good intentions about caution and secrecy, he hardly seemed able to contain himself. The sheer force of desire was alarming.

  He knew that he ought to release her before he got truly carried away...and he would...soon...any moment now...only she tasted delicious, like apples and sweetmeats and wine all mixed together, and she was kissing him back with equal enthusiasm. He felt like a starving man suddenly offered a mouth-watering feast.

  ‘Henry?’ She broke the kiss finally, panting as she tipped her head back.

  ‘Mmm?’ He took advantage of the position to slide his lips across her jaw, grazing her skin with his teeth.

  ‘I have to go. I’m supposed to deliver a note to Mortimer.’

  ‘I’ll take it.’ He reached into her sleeve, plucking the parchment from inside while he dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her neck. ‘I’ll tell him I came across you outside the hall.’

  ‘Yes...good.’

  ‘You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you.’ He lifted his head, restraining himself with an effort.

  ‘I think I do.’ She smiled. ‘But you’re here now. That’s all I care about.’

  ‘About that...’ He cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘I have to leave again in the morning.’

  ‘What?’ She tried to jerk away, but he was ready for it, tightening his arms around her. ‘You only just got here!’

  ‘It won’t be for long this time, just a few days hopefully.’

  ‘You haven’t even seen Mortimer yet!’

  ‘But I know what his orders will be once I tell him my news. I’m sorry, Mathilde, truly, but it’s important. It could mean peace, the end of the war or whatever this is. Wouldn’t that be worth it?’

  ‘Is it dangerous?’

  ‘No more than usual.’

  ‘Don’t joke about it!’ She gave him an angry look and then lifted her mouth back to his, her lips clinging as if she, too, couldn’t bear to break away. They came apart only when a horse began to stamp in the neighbouring stall. ‘Just be careful. Again.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I feel like we’re always saying goodbye.’

  He pulled her back against him, resting his cheek on the top of her head. The faint apple scent of her hair struck him as sweet and sharp at the same time, just like their reunion. ‘It won’t always be like this, I promise. Their business won’t always come first. I won’t be a spy for ever.’

  ‘I know.’ Her voice sounded muffled against his chest. ‘This is enough for now.’

  ‘For now. But not for ever.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Henry was gone by the time Isabella emerged from her rooms the n
ext morning, though Mathilde looked around the hall for him anyway, trying not to appear as dispirited as she felt. She’d barely had a chance to feel happy about seeing him again before he’d broken the news about leaving and, yet again, she had no idea when he’d be back.

  She had little time to dwell, however, before there was a fresh commotion as a messenger arrived from London, bringing word that the King had abandoned the city and fled towards Wales with the intention of going abroad and buying an army. After a brief conference with her barons, the Queen decided to follow in pursuit, taking a smaller force of soldiers this time, including Mathilde, though grudgingly allowing Katharine and Cecily to stay behind.

  * * *

  To Mathilde’s great relief, Henry re-joined the Queen’s forces on the road. He brought another Henry with him, Baron Lancaster, the most powerful man in the north of England and the King’s last remaining hope of an ally. Together, they continued west, where they discovered that Edward and his favourite, Despenser, had tried escaping to Ireland, only to find themselves thwarted by becalming winds in the Bristol Channel, forcing them to flee deeper into Wales instead. Lancaster volunteered to go and find them and Isabella allowed it, although she sent Henry, too. It was a dangerous strategy, given that Lancaster had only recently changed allegiance, but one that paid off.

  * * *

  It was only a few days before their party returned with news that the King and Despenser had been found hiding in a wood and captured, although the treatment they’d each received had been markedly different. The King, who stood above the law, had been taken as an honoured prisoner to Bristol Castle while his favourite had been dragged through the streets of Hereford on a donkey to stand trial. The very idea of it made Mathilde shudder.

  ‘We will go to Hereford at once, in the morning.’ Isabella’s eyes gleamed with triumph at the news. With the King finally captured, the war, such as it had been, was over.

  * * *

  There was yet another celebratory feast in Bristol Castle that evening. Mathilde wasn’t sure how appropriate it was to celebrate the capture of a king and, in any case, she was tired of interminable mealtimes, but Isabella seemed to thrive on them. The Queen looked more animated than ever these days, with Mortimer sitting close at her side, even preparing her plate on occasion. Mathilde wished that she could sit beside the man she cared about, too, but as usual he was seated a long way from the dais, out of her eyeline.