by Diana Rubino
"Perhaps you are lucky she grew tired of you then, for it would have been worse to keep on thus, would it not? With someone who had never really loved you?"
"Aye, indeed it would. And now I can soon be free. Free to be with someone who truly loves me."
Amethyst smiled gently over the rim of her goblet. "Do you have any regrets about it being over?"
He shook his head and said firmly, "Nay, I have not. Topaz and I were never meant to be." His voice did not betray any sadness or remorse. His eyes sparkled in the firelight just as they always did. She knew Matthew was not hiding any contrition. She knew by now that the sparkle those eyes possessed was genuine, and no remorse could show through without dimming them.
She felt confident enough to mention the King's surmise. "The King wondered if a reconciliation was in order now that Topaz has mended her ways."
He laughed, a full-throated guffaw, shaking his head resolutely. "Never, Amethyst, never could we ever exist together in peace. Her ideas, her ways, are much too reformist and perverse for me. I admire what she does for the poor, for she seems to have boundless energy with which to travel dusty, nearly impassable roads with wagonloads of food and clothes, but she and I shall never exist on the same plain, not here, not in any other unearthly life. Besides..."
He turned his thoughts inward and she could see the eyes darken as he spoke softly, "I could never forgive her for what happened to the lads. If it weren't for her relentless quest for the impossible, the boys would have been here with me, free, not locked up as surety for some future rebellion and to keep her under control."
"I know it tries you sorely that they will be sent out to live with the sons of some of the King's closest allies, but truly, you saw for yourself, they were quite comfortable. They never lived like prisoners. They had books, servants, food and drink aplenty—"
"They had confinement, Amethyst. They had naught but the four walls of the Tower. That was their home, and make no mistake about it; he will send them back again if it ever suits him. I dread to think of what they would then grow up like..." He halted immediately and thrust the cup to his lips.
Her eyes widened. "Like my father?"
He shot her a quick glance and did not deny it.
She shook her head. "Nay, Matthew. My father had but one day of freedom from the time he was locked up at age eight. One day! He spent his years in the Bell Tower, a small, musty, ancient prison that afforded no comfort. I was born there, but remember none of it. The lads were treated like princes by comparison. The King made sure of it."
"The King cannot be too sure of Topaz, can he? He obviously still considers her a threat. Otherwise he would let the lads be free to stay here in Warwickshire," he speculated aloud.
"I told you, Matthew, the King has not been, well, has not quite in his right mind, since, well, Anne Boleyn began wielding her dubious allure. He let Topaz go because I convinced him she was honest, out of his trust for me. I dare not ask him to allow the boys to be completely free of his governance. As I said before, we nobles must all serve and it will do them good to be away from Topaz, who smothers them so and fills them with ideas well above their station.
"I pray Henry will soon regain his keen perception and become once more the great ruler we all adore and then we can discuss the matter reasonably. But for now, think what opportunities they shall have as young pages and how they will be far from any bad influence Topaz may exert."
He cast her another glance, cocked his brow and shook his head. "Amethyst, are you sure you do not see the King differently than the rest of us do?"
She stared blankly. "What do you mean?"
"With all due respect, after all, he is the King, and has treated me with nothing but kindness and high regard, but he has survived several tragedies, has lost wives and children, and is advancing in age. Do you believe his condition will be reversed? That he can become a great ruler once more?"
"Oh, aye, Matthew! Living through tragedies and striving to gather the pieces of his life back together is no reason to give up on him! Look at what Henry's been through! A lesser man would have expired from much less of a strain than Henry's endured. You do not see him, Matthew. You do not see how ingenious he is, how resourceful.
"Why, when he wanted to be free of Catherine, and the church would not grant the divorce, he declared himself head of his own church! The King knows what he wants, and most of all, he knows all the intricacies of how to go about getting what he wants. He will survive this, Matthew, wait and see. He will once again be the lean, fit, sharp Henry we all once knew."
"I admire your convictions, Amethyst, and I hold your reverence for the King in the highest esteem. But I need to ask you one more time. Should the King not recover, or God forbid, retreat into a worse state of health or mind, well, all I am saying is, please come back home. Come here to Kenilworth. I want you here."
She smiled wanly. "I cannot offer you an answer until...and if...that time ever comes."
He sighed. "I want you here now, but you seem to believe your fate lies elsewhere. I have wanted you here with me for a long time now. I am in love with you, Amethyst. I want you to marry me."
She felt the goblet grow warm in her hands, felt her entire body grow heated with welcoming ardor for this man. The passion she felt for Matthew was so unlike her feelings for Henry, that she felt as if she possessed two hearts, one for each of these different, very unique men, each extraordinarily special in his own way. She had fallen in love with a king to be revered and venerated, the other to be melded with her own existence, to share the joys and sorrows of plain Warwickshire folk.
She knew she could love both equally well, for she loved the time she spent with each, in different ways. The real question was could she be everything to both these men, the regal queen, or the head of an esteemed yet provincial noble's castle?
Sooner or later, she was going to have to choose. Nay, she reminded herself. Henry would choose for them all. She could not imagine him ever letting her go, let alone marrying Matthew.
"Matthew, I cannot expect you to wait for me, not whilst I am still in service to the King. And to say sooth, what he calls his own, he keeps."
"There, listen to yourself, the way you put it...'in service'. Like it is a task you must perform, like working his fief or trundling off to Calais with his navy. Is that true love, Amethyst? Do you love the King?"
She bit her lip and said softly, "Aye, I love him, yet, he is the King and I am but his humble servant. Even if I became his queen, I would only be queen consort, still a subject, and he cannot ever—" She broke off with a gasp.
He gripped her hand hard now, hope blazing in his eyes. "Say it, Amethyst. I want to hear you say that you no longer love the King the way you once did. That what you once had is gone, dead, buried along with his martyred wives and unborn children, never to be resurrected. You are fooling yourself if you think you can return to court after all that has happened, and still be to him what you once were. Go back to him if you wish. But mark my words, love. You belong here, with me. You will return here in due time, and I shall be waiting."
She gasped at his nerve, but the truth was that Matthew had put into words exactly what she had been afraid to even think. Even though Matthew knew that she and the King had been lovers and she'd always wanted to be his wife, he touched on a nerve that went straight to her heart and made her realize what she'd been fighting all along.
Yet she couldn't leave Henry, not now, when he needed her most, when he was finally free and about to make her queen.
"Tell me, Amethyst." His eyes, darkened to a deep green, were riveted to her so that she dared not look away. "Tell me what you and the King had is over, and that you want me."
Torn in two and aching with torment, she finally gasped, "All right! You are right! I no longer love him the way a woman loves a man! If I marry him it would be out of duty, not because I am in love the way I once was. I do love him, as a friend and my king. But he is no longer the lover I yearn for."
"I knew it! Amethyst, he is becoming an old man. He has his heir, he does not need you... Perhaps he does need you in one way, but not the way I need you. Amethyst, I love you so much, oh, how I want you!"
Before she knew it they were in each other's arms and he embraced her, crushing her body to his, and she sat atop his lap, her legs winding round his waist.
He thrust her skirts to her thigh tops and caressed her sensitive flesh, his fingers seeking, winding their way through all the lace and satin. She responded in kind as she found his hardening manhood and they explored, searched, and finally found the core of each other's desire.
He lowered her to the soft bearskin rug in front of the fire, one of many soft warm comforts he'd been denied by Topaz. Then he began kissing her, slowly at first, but seemed to know her most receptive spots, the tips of her earlobes, the hollow of her neck.
He removed her robe and moved down to her breasts, kissing, licking, torturing her senses slowly. He continued downwards, running over the sensitive backs of her knees with his fingertips, trailing hot kisses down her stomach. He removed her chemise and brushed it over her naked body. He had her aching for him with every touch.
"Matthew," she could only raggedly gasp, for her voice was all but gone.
Slowly he removed his doublet, shirt, breeches and hose, and she was ready, dizzily panting. Yet he continued in his calm, slow manner, further torturing her with each deliberate kiss, each flick of his fingertips over her burning body.
"Matthew..." she was moaning, yet his breathing was as regular and even as if he were calmly tending his garden.
"You are mine. This is no mad mating because we can't control ourselves. This is how it is meant to be between us, my love."
"Yes, oh yes," she agreed mindlessly, anything to ease the ache in her heart and between her thighs.
When he finally entered her she exploded into a frenzy of ecstasy. Caught up in his exquisite lovemaking, she lost her senses and let eternity carry her away.
He wouldn't let her stop to rest, although her sides were heaving now out of sheer exhaustion. Her leg muscles were giving out. Shifting her body so that they were now on their sides, she clamped her thigh around his back and stroked his neck as they made love with powerful intensity. She exploded again, this time from within.
As she felt him growing soft inside her, she clasped her hands around his head, bringing him to her in a long, lingering kiss that incited her desire once more.
"I must rest, Amethyst, I must rest!" he panted, lying beside her, their mingled moisture glowing on their bodies. "My, what have they taught you at court!"
She laughed happily. "Nay, love, 'tis what you've taught me by driving me so mad with longing for you."
"Not as crazed as I've been. I've ached for you for so long. Now that I have you, I certainly want to make the most of it. So just keep what you're doing my dear. This destrier has not quite galloped his last yet."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The following evening, they did not even try to disguise their happiness from anyone. Amethyst and Matthew entered the great hall hand in hand. The trestle tables were adorned with his magnificent plate of silver. The candles glowed, the richly paneled walls towered two stories above them, and the minstrels tuned their lutes in the gallery.
Present were nobles from the neighboring shires, and since Norfolk and Emerald were the guests of honor, several of Norfolk's relatives had been invited, including his sister, her husband, and their flighty daughter Catherine Howard, a distant cousin of Anne Boleyn.
Catherine Howard seemed enchanted with Amethyst, and begged her to tell some stories of the court.
"What is it really like there? Is Hampton Court as sumptuous as we hear? How does the King spend his free time? What time does court retire for the evening? Is there dancing and merrymaking at all times? Is there any naughtiness in the deep dark passageways?" she asked, among other probing questions, giggling the whole time.
Amethyst told her only of the happy times, of the musical evenings when everyone sang and danced, the mimes, tumbling jesters, bawdy jokes and flowing wine. She didn't relate the tragedies of the last few years, of Anne's disastrous end, though she could tell Catherine wanted to hear all about it. She also kept silent about the grief the King was now suffering over his beloved Jane. Court was not a place the feisty Catherine Howard would want to be right now, Amethyst knew, but didn't relay her true thoughts to the impressionable youngster, who only wanted fables of cavorting knights and maidens.
"Nan never told me much about court," Catherine said, her eyes darting over to size up every young male that entered the great hall, from the Duke of Buckingham right down to the small and wiry marshal seating the guests.
"Her reign was so short," she said after a time, her voice taking on a serious tone Amethyst hadn't thought the girl was capable of. "She was my first cousin, you know. Our fathers were brothers, mine being the younger. We did not know each other well, her being nearly twenty years my senior. But I tried to follow all the happenings at court when she was first brought there, to her last days as queen. Such a fool, my cousin. She had naught but her charms to entice the King, had she not? But her ambition got the better of her."
"It was Anne's biggest tragedy that she did not give the King the son he wanted," Amethyst replied, that pang of sorrow still surfacing in the small piece of her heart she'd reserved for Anne.
"Had I been Nan, I would not have borne him any children, for that seems safer than bringing forth a girl. Look at the way Catherine of Aragon wasted away, and the way he saw fit to dispose of Nan. Now Queen Jane has died. I say 'tis safer to remain barren. Then no one can be blamed."
Oh, Henry certainly would have blamed a barren wife just as much, Amethyst thought, which was precisely the reason she'd stepped aside for Jane. No one knew what Henry was like when thwarted or disappointed better than she.
But why reveal Henry's darker side to the likes of Catherine Howard, who would probably end up married off to some social climber who would quickly squander the meager dowry she undoubtedly held.
"'Tis a pity the way your cousin Anne met her end, and I am truly sorry."
"Think naught of it," Catherine replied. "I don't."
"Ah, yes, live for the moment, hmm?" Amethyst tried to joke.
"Will he remarry, do you think?" she asked in a sprightly tone.
She blinked in shock at the girl's forthrightness. "I believe the King needs a queen who can coddle him in his old age, a genteel wife of his own generation who cannot out dance him nor outride him, but who will see him through to his final moments, and finally... outlive him."
"My, you have the King halfway to his grave already!"
Amethyst tried not to let this simpleton annoy her, for she did not know the King and never would if she could help it. Ambitious vultures, the whole lot of Howards, if Anne Boleyn was anything to go by.
"Er, not at all," she protested. "But he has had a hard life for one so young."
"Young!" Catherine sneered.
"Aye, in his heart."
Then she nodded. "Perhaps there is some truth in that. But he seems old to me because I am but seventeen, younger than the Princess Mary. I see the King as a father... No, a grandfather!"
She giggled, then focused her fleeting attentions on a young rogue with plumed hat jauntily cocked to one side, the feather brushing the shoulder of his green velvet doublet. "Excuse me, Madam...for I see someone with whom I have some unfinished business!"
She flounced away in a cloud of heady perfume and that boundless energy of the young.
Amethyst remembered wistfully when she had been Catherine's age, not quite so flighty and empty-headed, but she remembered, since it had not been that long ago. How the King had taken a fancy to her, invited her to court, made her his own... Just at that age, when she had been radiating youth, naivety, and the promise of a thousand tomorrows.
She pondered the insight her conversation with the young girl had given her,
surprising as it was. Maybe Henry did need one of his contemporaries to accompany his slide into old age comfortably.
Or could she still be just what he needed to rejuvenate that spark she knew was still within him, veiled by his shroud of grief?
Ironically, now that he was finally free of any wives plus the burden of producing an heir, the prospect of marriage to him had become just a bit dimmer, and a great deal more undesirable.
Emerald and the Duke of Norfolk arrived, and Amethyst barely recognized her sister. She'd grown so tall, that with her headdress she was nearly a head taller than Amethyst, and her once-lanky body had blossomed into that of a curvaceous woman. Her breasts swelled beneath her dramatically low neckline, and she carried herself with the grace worthy of the title she would bear as Norfolk's wife.
They embraced warmly, and Emerald introduced her to the Duke. "This is Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. Thomas, my sister Amethyst, Duchess of Warwick."