The King's Courtesan Read online

  “That’s not what I meant! You are an impossible woman. No wonder the… Pah! I should have asked for a dukedom and a palace to put up with you.”

  She turned her head away to look listlessly out the window.

  She was barefoot stil , and her cheeks were stained with tears. The necklace of flowers rose and fel with her breath and violets and buttercups sprouted here and there in her hair. She looked like a sad little girl, and despite himself he was moved.

  Hope closed her eyes, shutting him out, though she’d learned long ago it wouldn’t change a thing. Her heart was near to breaking. Deceived. Betrayed. Sold. Humiliated.

  Again. Anger warred with hurt and she didn’t know one from the other. How dare he? Hypocrite, liar, beast! As she fought back bitter tears she wasn’t sure if she meant Charles or this arrogant brute of a husband.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HOPE STUDIED THE LONG-LEGGED gentleman sprawled across the opposite seat. His large frame seemed cramped even in the spacious confines of the royal coach. He takes up too much space. They had traveled al through the day yesterday, stopping just before nightfal at an inn a few hours short of their destination. The captain had secured her a room and promptly disappeared. She didn’t know where he slept. From the smel of him, probably in the tavern. The sanctimonious prig had been half-shot even as he deceived her with his trickster vows. Perhaps he had needed to drown his delicate scruples to complete the ceremony, or maybe Charles had married her to a drunkard. Either way he was a duplicitous rogue.

  She resisted the urge to kick him. If he woke she might have to speak to him. Not a word had passed between them since they left St. James Park. Not even this morning when he’d tossed her a worn pair of shoes to cover her bare feet.

  This dissipated Captain Nichols bore little resemblance to the stiff and formal soldier who’d glowered his disapproval in her reception hal . The revels and rigors of the past two nights had left him disheveled. His lids looked bruised and heavy, his rugged jaw bristled with stubble and his hair hung loose about his shoulders. The elegant black coat with its silver trimming hung open, exposing the lines and muscles of his col arbone, and the strong column of his neck. Her eyes were drawn to the hol ow where they met and her heart beat a little faster. No knight of old now. He looked tarnished and disreputable, though every bit as dangerous.

  She stil couldn’t believe that Charles had simply handed her over to this stranger, trusting she’d be safe with only his words to protect her, and disconcerted to say the least that despite her anger and resentment, his face and form stil held the same fascination for her that they had at Pal Mal .

  It is a perfectly normal and entirely manageable reaction to a ruggedly handsome man. The kind one seldom sees at court. A novelty. And novelty fades fast.

  He began to stir, muttering something incoherent under his breath as he shifted position, and she turned away, face flushed, to look out the window.

  The road was bounded by a forest of beech, wil ow and oak. Sunlight dappled the forest floor and a playful breeze lifted fresh spring leaves so they tumbled and swayed, their undersides exposed in a mosaic of light and dark. She climbed up on her knees and poked her head out the window, the better to see. A gleaming band of silver light almost blinded her as the sun reflected off a distant river that appeared and disappeared through a curtain of trees.

  As they approached it, the traffic grew thick with carts and people. Cattle and horses forded the river in a noisy churning of water, beasts and men, while a gathering of folk stood gossiping on the bank, waiting their turn to be ferried across. It was wider and swifter than she’d expected, though not as broad as the Thames. Beyond the far bank she could see imposing stone buildings and, eager as ever to see new things, she leaned further out, keen to take it al in.

  Robert, who’d been awake the past half hour, watched her, completely bemused. Ladies of his acquaintance didn’t perch, elbows on windowsil , with their heads poking out and their bottoms in the air, their unbound hair gleaming in the sun. It was highly indecorous and utterly charming. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

  He liked her this way. Gone was the haughty courtesan, replaced by the unaffected maid who’d danced barefooted beneath the sky. The night before last she’d appeared a wide-eyed nymph, wild and free, an enchanting visitor from a magical realm. He’d almost thought his imagination had conjured her in a haze of drumming and dancing, spirits and song. Yet here she was back again. She has a sense of wonder. What fool would let her go if this is who she is?

  She was stil barefoot despite his gift, bought for an exorbitant sum from a saucy flaxen-haired barmaid who’d offered herself along with her shoes. He wondered if his…

  pretend wife would care that he’d declined. Somehow he doubted it. Stil , she was his wife by law. It would hardly be fitting to tumble a maid with his new bride sitting upstairs.

  Besides, she’d suffered more than enough humiliation in front of her rival for him to risk adding more.

  As reward for his chivalrous behavior, he decided to keep silent and enjoy the show. Bad-tempered and haughty she might be, but there was no denying she was a seductive minx. Just not in the way one expected. Mind…the sight of trim ankles and pretty toes peeping from silk petticoats was certainly arousing. She’d discarded her stockings before the dancing the other night, and he had only to stretch his arm a little to claim her skin, sliding his hand beneath her skirts to caress her naked thighs. She’s mine. She sold herself to me so that she might have a place at court.

  Her couldn’t help but notice how her arched posture made her dress cling, accentuating every luscious curve. Her breasts thrust forward, straining in her bodice, bobbing as she turned and twisted, trying to see. It must be painful to be so tightly constricted. I’ve but to move behind her and loosen her stays. Then he might reach around to cup those succulent globes, and tweak her nipples, before slipping his hands into her bodice and setting them free.

  Christ! I’ve been too long without a woman. I should have taken the barmaid’s offer whilst I had the chance. An aching erection strained rock hard against his breeches and his fingers itched to touch her. He bit back a groan, suffering in silence with no immediate way to relieve himself. I could slide her skirt up the smooth skin of her haunches, exposing that pretty rounded behind. His hands could almost feel her pert buttocks: soft, smooth, firm, demanding to be squeezed and fondled, positioned and— Stop!

  He took a deep breath, fighting to master his body and his senses. His imaginings fueled a hunger that alarmed him.

  One that mustn’t be al owed. The situation was far too complicated. She wasn’t simply another man’s mistress.

  She was mistress to his king, to be cal ed at His Majesty’s pleasure. It was clear she had no liking for him as a husband. She didn’t wish to hear his voice, let alone feel his touch. And he was not a man to share his woman. As long as he made no claim on her as such, their marriage was in name only. There was no true adultery, no true cuckolding, no pandering of wife or honor, where there was no true wife. She was a pretend wife. A royal charge. He was honor bound to see her safe and wel cared for and to strive to be civil and that was al .

  Pleased at having reasoned an accommodation that left his honor intact, he returned his attention to the window.

  She stretched, arching her neck and back like a contented cat before settling back on her elbows and shifting her knees to get comfortable again. Her bottom wiggled and bounced as she managed her contortions.

  “God’s blood, that’s quite enough! Would you please sit down?”

  Hope jumped, startled from her reverie, smacking the back of her head on the top of the window as she pul ed herself back inside.

  He winced in sympathy but made no move to help her, remembering her angry reaction the last two times he’d tried.

  “Does this suit you better?” she snapped. She sat primly, her hands folded in her lap, and gave him an angry accusatory stare.

  “Yes!” He sat up stra
ight, as wel , his hat resting on his lap.

  “Thank you.”

  As they waited their turn to be ferried across the river she stared straight ahead, al trace of the curious young lady gone. Robert felt a pang of guilt. Her excitement had been innocent, and his interruption of it anything but. He’d passed this way so many times he didn’t pay attention anymore, but it was clearly a new experience for her. One she had seemed prepared to enjoy.

  They crossed the river in an awkward silence. He hadn’t meant to ruin her pleasure but damned if he knew how to talk to the chit. He was skil ed at war and kil ing, competent at managing his affairs and more than adept at satisfying a woman’s physical needs, but he was learning—to his chagrin—he had little idea of what it took to keep one happy. Each time he tried he felt more inept, a feeling he didn’t like at al .

  Stil , a man didn’t shirk his duty no matter how difficult. He cleared his throat…. “As I’m sure you know, this is the town of Nottingham, and the river we’ve just crossed is the Trent.

  You might not be aware that Nottingham is famous for its cheese and fine pale ales, which are considered the strongest, clearest and best tasting in England. It is also renowned for the Goose Fair, which is several hundred years old and held here every fal . My… Cressly Manor is but eight miles away. You may wish to come here for shopping on occasion. It has the largest marketplace in England and my housekeeper says it has the best shopping before London. They make fine lace and stockings, which of course you’l be needing as you left yours…” His voice trailed off.

  Hope stared at him as if he were a two-headed calf, astonished at the lengthy speech after more than a day of frosty silence. Her eyes glanced to his lap and back to his face.

  “There is a castle, as wel ,” he ventured.

  He was clearly making an effort to be civil and she felt obliged to do the same. Besides, he had piqued her interest and despite her anger and mistrust, she had never been one to cut off her nose to spite her face. Her voice was flat, but she made an effort to respond. “Nottingham Castle?”

  “Yes,” he replied, encouraged. “One can climb the castle rock and see for twenty miles around.” He felt a stab of pain, remembering how he’d climbed the stairs to look from the turrets with Caroline and his parents as a child.

  “Robin Hood’s Nottingham Castle?” Her voice was a little more animated.

  “The one from the stories, yes. Unfortunately, the castle’s commander dismantled it rather than let it be used by the enemy during the war. I believe your friend Buckingham owns it now and is making some repairs.”

  “Can you see Sherwood Forest from there?” There was excitement in her voice now.

  “Certainly some of it, though it is only a shadow of what it used to be. A good deal has been cut down for lumber for building and timber for the navy, and much has been cleared for new estates. Cressly has some trees that would have once been part of it, and the king has deeded me a property that encompasses much more. I intend to preserve it as best I can.”

  “Ah! So you married me to protect a forest.”

  “In part. What better dowry for a pretty elf?” Her face brightened and she answered with a slight smile.

  Perhaps he was getting better at managing a wife. He’d set out to improve her mood and so far it seemed to be working. She had to be taken care of, just like his servants, his tenants, his soldiers or his horse. A horse needed hay, water, oats and exercise. What did a wife need? If he applied himself to the problem he was sure he could puzzle it out. He realized he’d been at loose ends for some time now. A soldier with no war was an aimless thing. His first thought had been that Hope Mathews would be a burden.

  Perhaps she’s just the project I need.

  “Are you hungry? Would you like to see the town? Perhaps we can find you stockings and better shoes.” Despite her best efforts at cool nonchalance a wide grin split her face. “I would love to climb the castle rock and see the forest, and then have a taste of your famous cheese and ale.”

  Animosity behind them and the light of excitement back in Hope’s eyes, they set out first for the mercers. She did need stockings, and brushes and petticoats, shoes and combs, and at least a couple of comfortable gowns.

  Everything she owned had been left behind her in the town house on Pal Mal .

  Nottingham was a wel -planned, bustling town with broad streets lined with substantial homes and buildings made from red brick and stone. The market was just as Robert had claimed, commanding two very large streets with a pil ared mile-long piazza for strol ing along one side. She trotted along beside him, trying to keep up with his easy, loping stride. They stopped to watch a man spinning glass, and to her delight he let her try it, heating a piece and flattening it out, then applying a second glass rod to the first one to pul and shape a delicate strand.

  She looked with longing at an array of exquisitely crafted fanciful glass birds and beasts, and then her gaze caught a mirror, its oak frame carved and painted with green leaves and acorns. She picked it up to take a look and Robert spoke over her shoulder. “You look like a woodland fairy seeing her reflection in a forest pool. We’l buy it. The poor man needs some recompense for his tutoring.” She pursed her lips and frowned but was pleased with it nonetheless.

  She found everything she needed with little effort, and though she hoped to retrieve her belongings from London, to be safe, she bought a little more. Within a couple of hours her purchases were safe in the coach and they were ensconced in the cel ar of the Crown Inn drinking ale and eating cheese. The cheese was very good and the ale exceedingly clear and, more importantly, fortifying and ful -

  flavored.

  Since their undeclared truce their conversation had been careful. The fine weather, local points of interest, the history of the town. Hope found she was actual y enjoying herself. It was thoughtful of him to take her shopping and she was thril ed with the mirror. He’d been very generous. He had already achieved what he wanted, yet he seemed much nicer today than yesterday, even though he didn’t need to be.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he pul ed a lovely glass swan from his pocket and set it on the table before her.

  She blinked, a little flustered, wondering what had come over him. She had needed a mirror, though not one so fine, but this was clearly a present. Be careful, woman. He’s far more dangerous bearing gifts than glowering and cursing.

  She must do her best to remain wary, but he was so handsome and she’d drank three pints of ale and it seemed so very hard.

  “I…don’t know what to say. Thank you, Captain Nichols. But that real y wasn’t necessary.”

  He shrugged. “I know. You needn’t look so worried. I’m a man of my word and wel aware of how things stand. You’l have your own room again tonight. But though we got off to a difficult start we are in fact married. Every woman should have a gift to mark her wedding, and if that sits il with you, you can think of it as a peace offering.” I love the sound of his voice. It’s warm and reassuring, yet seductive at the same time. She tossed back her ale and reached across the table, turning the swan so it caught the light. It was beautiful, fluid. With its long neck arched and its wings unfurled it looked like a living thing about to take flight. She was intensely aware of his fingertips, just inches away from hers. She felt them as surely as if he touched her. They sent a shiver up her arm and down her back, leaving an exquisite aching in her chest and a delicious hol ow twinge in the pit of her stomach.

  She lifted her eyes and her gaze locked with his, drawn deep into shadowed green pools, glinting with intricate patterns of dark and light. There were fine lines etched on his face around his eyes. Laugh lines, some might cal them, but she didn’t think he laughed much. She imagined she saw loneliness and grief there, She wondered what terrible things he’d witnessed, and what wonders he had seen. She imagined they held promise…wanting…need.

  She wanted desperately to kiss him.

  She cleared her throat, remembering how to breathe, and pus
hed back to sit upright. “Thank you, Captain. It’s very lovely. Shouldn’t you show me the castle soon? Before it gets too dark?”

  “Yes, of course.” He drew back, as wel , whatever unspoken communication that had crackled between them cut as cleanly as if by a knife. “Don’t you think it strange, given the circumstances, to keep cal ing me Captain Nichols? You might try Robert, or husband.”

  “Or sir?” She said it with a cheeky smile and he chuckled.

  “I am sorry I annoyed you, in the carriage.”

  “I’m not comfortable with husband—” nor with being a wife

  “—but perhaps Robert wil do.”

  “Good!” He stood, being careful not to hit his head on an overhead beam, and extended a hand to help her up.

  It was a steep climb to what was left of the castle, perched on a promontory with cliffs over one hundred and thirty feet high, known as the castle rock. The castle itself was a ruin, with only the gatehouse and part of an old bailey remaining, along with the outer wal s. The view was magnificent. Hope surveyed it al with a gardener’s eye and the curiosity and wonder of a tourist. The land was rich and fruitful, painted with great swathes of forest to the north and west, and lush meadows and rich farmland in the val ey, fol owing the sinuous course of the silvery Trent.

  While she enjoyed the view, Robert watched her with a pang of hunger. The wind whipped her hair and clothes tight against her body, molding to her curves, tugging at her skirts and lifting her petticoats like an eager lover trying to coax them off. The idea made him grin, something he was getting accustomed to since he’d met her only two days ago. He stepped close beside her, ready to steady her, a little anxious she stood so close to the edge. “There is your Sherwood Forest, and about seven miles to the northeast on that twisting bend lies Cressly. One can almost see her chimneys and turrets through the trees.” Hope nodded, as if she could. It almost seemed so. She stood on her toes and shaded her eyes and imagined she saw a curl of smoke escaping from a distant chimney.