A figure moved in the shadows, and Rox caught the glint of candlelight off blonde hair. He started to follow, but remembered Elizabeth’s warning. Whatever reason Honoré had for skulking near the queen’s rooms, it was none of his business.
A fresh dusting of snow covered the park, further enchanting the palace grounds. Rox walked the perimeter of the formal gardens, lost in thought. A light tap on his shoulder brought him up short, and he turned to see the gorgeous woman from the previous night.
“Lady Morecambe, I believe.” He inclined his head and bent at the waist. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“I do not come to you with light tidings.” She scanned the area, frowning at another couple who walked in their direction. “I believe the queen’s life is in danger. She will not listen to me, but as her favorite, I beseech you to heed my warning.”
The crunch of snow sounded behind him, and he turned to find Honoré slipping from behind a tree. When he turned back to Lady Morecambe, there was no one there, yet he’d not heard her leave. How strange that he would hear one woman, but not the other.
“You’re the new duke, are you not?” Honoré asked by way of greeting.
“I am.”
“What did the whore want?”
“The who?” But he knew who she meant.
“I’m watching you, Roxburghe. The Crown’s safety is my only concern, and your rise in station makes you a risk. Pray I’ve no need to use my daggers.”
Bloody hell, what was with the threats?
“I assure you, the queen’s safety and happiness are my solemn duty.” He bent at the waist. “Good day, Lady Honoré.”
“Just Honoré. I have no title.”
“But the queen, she said you were her lady.”
“The Queen’s Lady is an honorific given to the woman assigned to protect the queen’s person. There have been many before me. We are not royal, nor noble born.”
Every word she spoke was like another threat lobbed at him. She was a spy at the least, and most likely an accomplished assassin. His father had warned him of men who Elizabeth used, but not of women.
“If the queen’s safety is your only concern, then why are you out here with me, and not protecting her?”
“How can you be sure I am not?” Her right brow arched and snow crunched beneath her pivot.
Rox stared at her back, wondering when he’d become threatening. Probably after his father’s death. If only the court would let him be. Both his brother’s and father’s deaths were from natural causes. He hadn’t murdered his family to steal the title. In fact, he’d gladly give it to one of his younger brothers, but only if he could remain Elizabeth’s favorite.
Bells rang and he made his way to the chapel for Christmas Mass. The queen sat in her private stall above the rest of the court, and Rox felt a pang of sorrow that he wasn’t allowed to sit with her. Christmas Day was to be spent in reflection and at least for Mass, Elizabeth honored the tradition. She’d sent him a note reminding him about the sleigh ride later, with the cryptic command to wear his stockings loose. He had no idea what she meant, but he’d donned the largest pair of hose he owned, covering them with the longest breeches he had. It wouldn’t do to have his hose saggy at Christmas.
Remembering Lady Morecambe’s warning, he took his place in a pew to the side, where he could see everyone in the small chapel. Honoré sat opposite, but her attention was fixed on the archbishop, who began a rambling thanks for the queen’s person, the court, the country, and devolved into several parables about gluttony and lustfulness. During the sermon, Honoré’s expression went from interested to rapturous.
At each mention of lust, her eyes narrowed and lips thinned, which gave her an ugly countenance he found disturbing. How could a woman whose sole purpose was to protect the queen be upset by fornicating? Perhaps she wasn’t aware of Elizabeth’s naughty habits. Yes, Rox told himself; that must be it. Although, if Honoré didn’t know her queen had lusty intentions, she was terrible at her profession.
She flicked a glance from the archbishop to him with a look he didn’t understand. Her piercing stare unsettled him, and he looked away. Like a moth drawn to flame, his immediate gaze traveled to Elizabeth, but he jerked his attention to the young boy who held the censer. When he dared look at Honoré again, her stare was riveted to the archbishop once more. The entire encounter took less than a few minutes, but left him with a sour belly long after the sermon ended.
He breakfasted with the other men, hoping the dark bread and mustard would settle his nerves. It didn’t, but the two goblets of mulled wine certainly did. By the time he received word that the queen was ready for her sleigh ride, he was much more relaxed and ready to enjoy an afternoon with his queen.
She waited in a lovely white sleigh with two of her ladies-in-waiting. They chatted and giggled at his approach, which he refused to let affect his good mood. A pair of chestnut geldings pawed the ground, impatient to be off.
“Come here, Roxy. Join me.” Elizabeth held up a thick fur blanket, and he slid onto the seat beside her. “What did you think of the sermon?”
A low chuckle escaped his lips, and he grinned. “I think the archbishop is wise to counsel abstinence during these religious days, but that perhaps he is a little too zealous in his approach.”
“Indeed.” She snuggled beneath the blanket and told the coachman she was ready for her ride.
Her ladies giggled behind their fur muffs, and Rox did his best to ignore their furtive glances. He felt as if they were all in on some grand joke that he didn’t know. The queen chatted with the three of them, making small talk about the weather and the planned festivities for the Christmas season. Rox was particularly looking forward to ice skating on the Thames and told them so. He was about to elaborate when Elizabeth’s hand slipped beneath his breeches and hose.
He held his surprise and continued to speak, albeit with a stutter. Her long fingers circled his cock and worked it expertly until he was hard and straining against his clothing. The ladies across from him giggled and flicked glances to where the fur blanket bobbed with Elizabeth’s ministrations.
The cold air nipped his face, but his blood was overheated and thick with lust. Her hand pumped faster than his heart could beat, and he felt the throb of release pulsing through his scrotum.
“Pinch my nipple, darling.”
“Pardon?” Surely he misheard.
“My nipple. Now, Roxy.” Her labored breaths matched his as she gyrated against the wooden seat.
Not wanting to court her anger, he slipped his hands beneath the many strands of pearls she wore. A moment’s hesitation, then he plunged his hand beneath her bodice and cradled her breast with his palm while his forefinger and thumb found her hardened nub.
“Twist it, darling. Yes, oooh, that’s it.” She arched into his grip and he increased the pressure.
His desire spiraled out of control and he flushed with his oncoming release. She squeezed the tip of his cock and every nerve in his body tightened until he was as taut as a lute player’s strings. The sleigh rocked, adding to the rhythm Elizabeth set with her fingers, and he moaned into the crisp air. He wouldn’t last much longer, what with the queen working his cock and him massaging her breast. The ladies across from him were no longer giggling. Soft moans and subtle gyrations came from their side of the sleigh. The idea that he and Elizabeth had an audience thrilled him. He pinched harder, adding a vicious twist that almost undid him.
Elizabeth’s hips bucked up once, twice, and a third time before settling on the seat. “Release, my dove.”
He did. Gods help him, he unloaded his seed into her greedy hand, soiling his hose in the process. She reached across him and lifted his breeches so that she could remove her hand without smearing the mess. Her ladies stared at her, licking their lips as if waiting for something.
What that was, shocked and delighted Rox. The queen lifted her hand to her lips and proceeded to lick his seed from her fingers. Every flick of her p
ink tongue set him aflame. He caressed her bosom, feeling two small wounds on the fleshy part of her lovely breast. A curiosity to be explored another time, for his attention was snared by her mouth and what it was doing to her fingers.
In short, she made love to him through the use of her lips as they sucked the last of his seed from her fingertips. When she’d finished, she held her hand to him.
“You may kiss me.”
Oh, if only she’d meant her lips. He took her fingers in his own and pressed his lips against the skin where moments ago a part of him had touched her intimately. His tongue flicked in the valley between her fingers, savoring the saltiness that lingered. She moaned and he risked another pinch of her nipple. Her gasp went straight to his cock.
“Saucy Roxy.” But there was no reprimand in her voice. She removed her hand from his, and he reluctantly let go of her breast to rest his hand in his lap. “Well, ladies?”
The women regarded him a moment before they both nodded. Rox wasn’t sure what to make of it, and Elizabeth only smiled. When she looked at him, her eyes were glassy and filled with desire.
The sleigh sped across the countryside, the four of them lost to their own thoughts. Rox kept his mind occupied for fear if he recalled Elizabeth’s hand on him, his erection would return. As it was, sitting beside her and not touching her became a torment.
“Have you ever wished to live forever, Roxy?”
Her questioned startled him out of his reverie. “No, ma’am, I can’t say that I’ve ever considered it.”
“What would you do with immortality?”
He started to reply, but stopped. Then said plainly, “I suppose I would try to be a good person and help those around me. Should I be so privileged to live the life I do, for eternity, I would use my title and my wealth to improve the country.”
“Spoken like a true statesman. But is it true? Would you truly be a good man, for all of time?”
“Eternity is too long to comprehend. But I would be a good man one day at a time.” He saw the frown she wore and wished to kiss it away so that she would smile once more. “And you? Would you like to be immortal? You could be Gloriana forever.”
“Oh, darling Roxy. I do not wish to be queen forever.” She took his hand in hers and patted it. “I fear I will not be queen for more than a few more years. I have already reigned longer than most kings, and I find I do not have the stomach for war and political intrigue like I once did. I am tired, my darling.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “It does my heart ill to hear these sad tidings, but rest assured that I will be there for as long as you are queen. You never have to doubt my loyalty.”
“You bring me great comfort with your words.” Her gaze flicked to his lap. “And your deeds.” A little giggle made her sound young and flirty and not at all the aged queen she’d become.
Several riders on horseback thundered past, and he caught the glint of blonde hair beneath a roguish hat.
“Is that your lady who rides like a man?”
Elizabeth peered at the riders with a frown. “I suppose it might be. Whatever is she up to?”
Indeed.
That evening, he danced with Elizabeth and several of her ladies as she requested. She paid him scads amount of attention, but did not attempt to pleasure him. Which was a blessing and a curse. Since the sleigh ride, all he could think about was her tongue sucking his juices from her fingertips. No one would guess that their Virgin Queen was in fact a lusty wench. Elizabeth delighted the court in a lavish crimson velvet gown that was the picture of modesty.
The high neck covered her bosoms and a ruff framed her lovely face. Jewels sparkled in her hair and adorned each finger. She was the most spectacular bauble he’d ever seen. She was witty and carefree, and when she danced with other men, Rox clapped and smiled despite the slash of jealousy he felt in his heart. He knew better, yet it couldn’t be helped. He was in absolute, complete awe of his queen. She’d snared his heart and fool that he was, he loved her.
To clear his head and regain his senses, he strolled the dark halls of the palace, interrupting several couples partaking in illicit activities. Even of them, he was jealous. They could fornicate to their heart’s desire, but he could not. Elizabeth might fondle him and allow him to caress her breasts, but she was the Virgin Queen. He would never consummate his love for her.
All this he knew before coming to court. Yet he didn’t comprehend the effect she would have on him. The all-consuming desire to be near her, to hear her laughter, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. His manhood grew just thinking of her wickedness.
“I will show you how to be a good duke,” she’d whispered in his ear before the feast was served. “Watch and learn, darling Roxy. You will see how to best survive at court.”
Survive at court. Yes, he needed lessons in diplomacy, but her tone suggested she meant something else. He stopped abruptly at the door to the little chapel. Of course, his traitorous mind would lead him here, as if mocking his affections. He opened the door slowly, so as not to disturb anyone who might be inside. Candles burned along the perimeter, but not nearly as many as had been aflame that morning at Mass.
The darkened space did not frighten him, nor did he find it comforting. He’d accepted his fate of priesthood, but he had not relished a life lived in devotion. His gaze caught on a bent head, her golden hair shimmering in the candlelight. Honoré’s whispered prayers echoed against the stone walls, and he shivered with recognition. She did not pray in English, nor even French, but in Latin. And her prayers were not Protestant, but Catholic.
Stepping lightly, he stayed to the shadows and approached the pew. He passed behind a thick column and paused to allow his heart to stop racing. He could scarcely breathe for the anxiety that lodged in his throat. What was he doing, sneaking up on the woman? She was praying in Latin—so what? The queen had proclaimed England a land of tolerance.
He peeked around the column, taking care not to make noise. Not only was the pew empty, several of the candles had blown out. Or were intentionally snuffed. His knees went like jelly and a roar of panic deafened him momentarily. Had Honoré heard him? He would swear he hadn’t made a sound. Perhaps she was done with prayers. Yes, that must be it.
Happy with his explanation, he turned away from the empty pew and met the cool blade of Honoré’s dagger. Icy fear slid beneath his skin. He was handy with a rapier, but was at present weaponless.
“What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?” A slight French accent broke through her English.
“No, I swear it.” He held his hands up to show they were empty. “I saw you praying and didn’t want to disturb you.”
“By creeping through the chapel? Do you think I’m stupid? She sent you, didn’t she?”
The blade pressed against his neck and he fought the urge to swallow.
“No one sent me.” He said the words slowly and carefully, but felt the sting of skin tearing despite his efforts.
“You think you know her.” Honoré’s eyes narrowed. “But you have no idea what she truly is.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He pointed to the dagger. “Is this really necessary?”
She removed the dagger and he gasped for air. A sticky trail of blood ran across his throat. That’s what he got for spying.
“Follow me.” Honoré pivoted away from him and hurried from the chapel.
He kept pace with her, peppering her with questions she refused to answer. After a dozen more, she turned on him and hissed, “Quiet your tongue, or I will do it for you. This way.”
Down a hallway he’d not noticed in his palace ramblings, she pressed a section of wall and it popped open with a hush. His own home had many secret passages, but he’d never had reason to use them. It didn’t surprise him that Honoré would not only know where they were, but make a habit of traversing them.
“Through here. Second passage on the left, about four paces in. There is a hole i
n the paneling hidden behind a tapestry. Move it aside only a finger’s span and you will see what the witch truly is.” The dagger returned to his throat. “If you say anything to her, I will know of it. It’s my job to protect the Crown, and I’m very good at my profession.”
He wanted to trust Honoré, but her words and actions flummoxed him. What was so terrible about his queen that she felt he needed to know? As far as he was concerned, there was nothing Elizabeth could do to lose his love.
Honoré grabbed his balls and rubbed her palm over the velvet of his breeches. Her lips sought his, and he stiffened against the assault.
He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “You, madam, shall not take liberties with me.”
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and grinned. “Go look. When you want a real woman who will not tease your cock, come see me.”
The door closed behind her, and he was left in the darkened passage. For near on the length of a dance, he debated leaving the cramped space. But then curiosity won out and he felt his way along the walls to the second passage and turned left as Honoré had instructed. He counted out his paces and paused, listening.
On the other side of the wall, he could just make out voices, but not the entire conversation. His fingertips tapped across the paneling until he found the hole and he pushed his finger inside to slide the tapestry enough that he could peer through.
The limited view was of an expensively furnished bedchamber, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Although he knew Honoré meant for him to spy on his queen, he thought she’d meant in Elizabeth’s sitting room. Not this most private of spaces. He withdrew his finger and leaned his forehead against the wood. Elizabeth would never forgive him for spying on her. Surely, this was a trap laid by Honoré to discredit him, but why?
The voices grew louder as they entered the room. He recognized his queen, but not the other woman. They spoke in soft caresses, like lovers. His head went fuzzy and groin ached. Was this what Honoré wished him to see? Not Elizabeth with a man, but her making love to a woman?
Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Holiday Vampire Tales Page 58