The King's Concubine

Chapter Twelve

I had caught Windsor off guard in the audience chamber. Holy Virgin! If I had jolted him out of his habitual sangfroid, he all but stunned me. He swept the rushes from beneath my feet.

It did not start off well. We had moved on in our royal perambulations from Woodstock to Sheen, where a weighty delegation had arrived from France to begin negotiations for a permanent truce. I intervened. On instructions from me, Latimer sent the delegation away. I watched them go, aware of their furious dissatisfaction. They made no attempt to hide it.

“Dangerous, Mistress Perrers!”

The voice was at my elbow.

“And what does that mean?” I scowled indiscriminately at the departing delegation of angry, highborn Frenchmen and at Windsor.

“It won’t be popular.”

“What won’t?”

“Dictating who will and who will not see the King.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

How could I not know? This was not the first time Latimer and I had intervened between king and petitioner. Did I need Windsor to tell me how much resentment there was? As for resentment…I glared at the man at my side. I resented his presence. I resented his opinion. In that moment I resented everything about William de Windsor.

“You’re playing with fire,” he stated. Such an obvious statement.

“I know that too.”

“It will put a weapon into the hands of those who would be rid of you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“So why do it?”

He could think ill of me if he wished. There he stood, regarding me with an element of deep suspicion that did nothing to improve my mood. I did not need this, not at this precise moment. I’d had enough hard words from the Princess to last a lifetime. But if Windsor would condemn me without a hearing, then so be it!

“I won’t talk to you now! I don’t have to answer for my actions to you!”

And then suddenly, overwhelmingly, I wished he would wrap his arms around me and allow me to lean against him. What I would not give for a moment of ease, to realize that I was not alone. I would like him to stroke my arm as if I were a soft-furred cat, fold my fingers close within his, and tell me that all would be well.…

Of course, all would not be well! Immediately I took a step back, away from him, shivering at my appalling show of weakness, determined that Windsor should never read the turmoil in my mind. I would not make excuses. I would not explain. I realized that he was staring at me intently, and so I hurried to follow Latimer and the angry delegation, to make my escape. I did not think I could keep my reactions under a firm hand for much longer. I swallowed when hot tears gathered in my throat.

Windsor stopped me by the simple method of stepping in front of me. “Come with me,” he ordered curtly.

“No!”

Regardless, he took my wrist and pulled me out of the now-deserted audience chamber.

“And let go of me. Do you want every riffraff in the palace to be talking of us?” He released me, but I followed, knowing that if I did not comply, he would repeat the performance. “Where are we going?”

Since I got no reply, I marched sullenly at his side, still disturbed by the recent confrontation, the disbelieving stare of the French when Latimer offered to begin the negotiations himself. Even more unsettled by Windsor’s judgment of my motives. When I found myself hustled into a corridor leading to an outer door, I balked. Halted.

“No!”

“Why is a woman always difficult when a man has her best interests at heart?” he asked, returning to intimidate me with his height and breadth in the narrow passage.

“You have only your own interests at heart. I’ve never met anyone as self-interested as you,” I fired back, all my thoughts awry. “In fact…”

“By God, woman…!” He pinned me against the wall, regardless of who might be traversing the corridor—fortunately no one—and he kissed me. It was not a kiss of mild affection. I wasn’t sure what it was. When he lifted his head, I had no breath left to speak.

“Silence! At last!”

“Are you out of your mind…? Will you release…!” Lord, how that kiss had stirred my blood. My heart bounded against my ribs like a ferret in a hunter’s cage.

He kissed me again. All heat and power, appallingly seductive, and my will to resist was stripped away. When he released my mouth I simply stood, my senses compromised.

“Excellent! Now be a biddable girl for once in your life.…”

He had kissed me, as far as I could tell, with thorough enjoyment, but his face was stern, his thoughts preoccupied. And because I wanted to, I walked beside him, conscious of his nearness, the brush of his tunic against my arm at a turn in the stair. And then we were out in the open, climbing to the wall walk, under clouds that were low and brooding, much like my humor. There we came to stand, looking east, and I waited, limbs still shaking, wondering whether he would kiss me again. I hoped that he might, despised him for trapping me in this unexpected passion; I despised myself. I had no intention of cuckolding Edward, in private or under public gaze. The palace guards were far too obvious, far too watchful, and I retained some sense of honor even as my heart galloped like a panicked horse.

“Tell me what’s troubling you,” he invited when the silence between us grew heavy.

“Nothing. Since you think the worst of me…”

“It’s the King, I presume.”

“How should it be…?”

“Alice…! You can’t deny it any longer. He’s beyond sense. At this moment you need a friend, and I’m the nearest you’ll get. So tell me the truth.”

My determination to keep silent, to protect Edward at all costs, drained away. Yes, I needed a friend to help me shoulder the increasingly difficult burden. Wykeham was in Winchester. I would not put myself in Gaunt’s hands. So that left Windsor.…But was he that friend? There he stood, dark and saturnine, the epitome of louche self-serving. And yet there was in his face, completely unexpected, a kindness.…Why not…?

“Yes. It’s Edward.”

“You’re guarding him.”

“Yes. What would you have me do? Put him on show in London for his subjects to gawp at?” Still I was defensive.

“At least then you could not be accused of manipulating an old man for your own ends. Keeping it secret is dangerous, Alice.”

“I won’t do it! You are not helpful!”

“I’m trying to be realistic!”

Still I resisted, but in the end I told him everything. How Edward’s bright spirit was once more in eclipse, his actions unpredictable. Who could persuade him that it was not good policy to order every bridge in Oxfordshire to be repaired or rebuilt, simply because he wished to go hawking from Woodstock? I could not. The King was incapable of committing England to any future policy. How long could Latimer and I, and the rest of the loyal ministers, pretend that Edward was fit to be King? Edward barely knew the day of the week. His physicians could do nothing to alleviate his loss of awareness.

“And so that’s why I try to protect him as much as I can,” I finished. “Next week—tomorrow, even—his senses may return.”

“How admirable you are.”

“No. I’m not. But I care too much to allow him to come under attack from those who might question his right to rule.”

“Some would say that you do it for your own ends. To bolster the King’s power is to preserve that of Alice Perrers.”

“Which is entirely true, of course.” Sharp irony coated the air between us. “How could anyone think I had any concern for the King’s well-being?” I turned away, furious that once again he voiced familiar calumny against me.

“I didn’t say I believed it,” he retorted. “I think I need to distract you a little.”

“By kissing me?” Suddenly I was afraid of my weakness with this man, afraid of the burn of tears beneath my eyelids. I was far too emotional. “I hope you won’t.”

“No. Or not yet, at any rate. Later I might.…”

The preoccupation was back. Windsor had other thoughts on his mind. Womanlike, I resented his preoccupation and strolled away, angry with my twisted emotions, despairing at how easily I was maneuvered into opening my heart to this man, leaving him to lean on the stone coping and sweep an arm over the battlements to take in the view.

“I have a handful of estates in Essex,” he remarked.

Neutral territory. I strolled back. “I know.”

“I plan to have more.”

“I know that too. Have you brought me all the way up here to tell me something of so little news?” My mood was horribly unpredictable.

“No. I want to ask you something. And from the scene I just witnessed, it’s becoming imperative.”

He leaned on the parapet, chin resting on his folded arms, and glowered at the scene below, where one of the palace cats took its morning slink amongst the rabbit holes on the riverbank. I waited in silence. Then he turned his head to look at me.

“Alice…”

“William…!”

He eyed me speculatively.

“Alice, will you marry me?”

Marry…?

My mind scrabbled for understanding, for any sensible response, and found none. After all the emotion of the morning, I could not deal with this. I was forced to drag air into my lungs.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Now, there’s an intelligent reply. I often propose marriage to a woman in the spirit of mockery. The country is littered with my proposals. Will you marry me?” he repeated.

Did he mean this? I could read nothing in the hard lines of his face.

“Marriage…! But why?”

Immediately he straightened, then, shockingly, went down on one knee. For a moment of blazing memory, I recalled Edward in his strength and power wooing me after my outburst. But there was no similarity here at all. Edward had wooed me from the heart; this was a charade, a travesty of honor and chivalry. Surely it was.

“I love you,” Windsor announced. “Why else would a man ask a woman to wed him?”

“You are a liar, Windsor.”

“Ah…but how do you know?” Those bold eyes glinted in a sudden bright stroke of sunlight through the heavy cloud.

“I don’t. Sense tells me.…Stand up! The sentries will see us and the whole world will know within the hour that you are making mischief!” When he rose to his full height, the light spread over his harsh features, gilding him in an enticing softness that I instantly rejected. Pouncing, he clasped my hand and pressed his lips against my fingers.

“It’s not such a bad idea, you know. Wife and concubine—not an easy role to pursue at one and the same time, but I swear you have the talent for it. Will you?”

“No.” I had no breath, no wit to say more. What an appalling morning this had been. Was he ridiculing me? If so, there was an edge of cruelty to it that I would never have expected.

“Listen to me. I’m quite serious.” He leaned back against the parapet once more, looking up to where a pair of crows somersaulted on the thermals. His voice was clipped, his hand still firm around mine. He was deadly serious. “I foresee advantages.…”

“You would, of course!”

“For you, woman! For you! Just listen. When Edward dies, what happens to you? Alone, unprotected, you will become a perfect scapegoat for those who have loathed you since the first day you crawled into the King’s bed.” How sordid he made it sound. “From the first day that you stood at the King’s side and blocked their way to power. They’ll not accept that the King was too ill to hold the reins of government. They’ll blame you. And they’ll take utmost pleasure in throwing you to the dogs.” His eyes slid from tumbling crows to me. “And I wager that none of this is new to you. You’ve seen the threat of the storm clouds building on your horizon, just as those birds know the power of the thermals to lift them. Look at them! Storm crows. Birds of ill omen.”

Who’d have thought Windsor would be superstitious! “I have seen the storm clouds,” I replied. “And I see the crows every morning without fear. I have made provision.”

“I’m sure you have. Squirreling away wealth for your old age.” How cynical, how practical. No superstition here! Did he think I had been robbing the royal coffers? “But what if they target your sources of income?”

“I have taken precautions.”

“I know. I know how clever you are.” I thought it was no compliment. “But that’s another reason for you to watch your back. Men don’t like it when a woman oversteps the line of what is acceptable for her sex. A man would get away with it. A woman…? She will be damned as impertinent, presumptuous at best. Immoral at worst. A woman who fights for herself, who is bold and outspoken and fearless, and is amazingly successful at what she sets her hand to, is instantly vilified, whereas a man is praised for his perspicacity. You’ve made yourself notorious.”

“As have you…” I retaliated, horrified by his brutal brushstrokes of me and my character.

“That’s not relevant,” Windsor fired back. “Just as your innocence or guilt is irrelevant. They’ll be snapping at your heels as soon as the King is laid out in the chapel. Now, if you wed me, I would stand protector for you and your property, through the courts if need be.”

Ah! Of course! Not kindness at all! “And what would you get out of marriage?”

“Someone to watch over my interests in England when I’m in Ireland.”

I frowned. “That’s not an answer a woman wants to hear. It’s a marriage, not a business deal.” I pulled my hand free and turned my back on him. “Are you still so sure you’ll be allowed to go back?”

“Yes. As I said—who else is there?”

“Then pay an agent to look after your properties for you. It’s cheaper than marriage. With far fewer problems,” I added dryly. “I’ll get Greseley to recommend someone.”

“I want someone who will do it for better motives than a paid clerk. I want you!”

I want you! I shook my head to jangle my thoughts into order. “No.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason!”

I fell back on the practical, because I dared not contemplate my initial reaction. “I can’t. Edward…”

“Edward would not need to know.”

“What? We would keep it secret?” My shock doubled.

“Why not? Would it be so very difficult? If we did take so momentous a step, it would undoubtedly be better if the Court didn’t know of it.”

I followed his line of sight, the crows twisting and falling in unison, a mating dance, and, brusquely, asked the primary question in my mind: “Why would you consider—why would any man consider—making such a proposal to the King’s mistress?” I swallowed against the constriction in my throat and made my question plainer. “Why would you wish to share your bed with the King’s whore?”

“I’ve thought of that. I’ve decided it doesn’t matter.” When I looked at him in amazement, he returned my gaze with frank assessment. “What are you to him, Alice? What are you to him now?”

“I…” The question took me unawares, and I sought for a reply that would not betray Edward. I would never speak of what passed between myself and the King.

“What are you to him?” Windsor repeated. I must have looked momentarily lost, so he made it easy for me. Who would have thought that he would do that? “Friend?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Counselor?”

“Yes. When he asks—and sometimes when he does not.” I smiled sadly. “Edward likes to talk. Or he did.…”

He cocked his head. “Confidante?”

“Yes…always…” I set my teeth. I knew what was coming.

“Lover?”

My reply stuck in my gullet.

“Be honest with me, Alice. For God’s sake! I’ll not spread it through the palace!”

Should I give him the answer he wanted? The one that was the truth? Blessed Jesu! I found my nails digging deep into my palms.

And, seeing, he took my hand, smoothing out my fingers, asking gently, “Are you still lovers?”

“No!” I cried out, with infinite sadness at this ultimate decline in so great a man. “No longer…”

“As I thought…”

“He cannot.…” I felt the need to explain, to defend the King when he could not defend himself. I could not bear that he be sneered at for losing that essential masculine power that made him the crowned stag, the vigorous stallion. Edward would hate it, shrink from it. But I did not need to explain. Windsor showed no scorn.

“The sad depredation of old age,” he remarked matter-of-factly. “It strikes us all down eventually. How long since?”

“Two years or more now,” I admitted.

“And yet you stay with him.”

“Yes.”

“For the power it brings you?” His eyes bored into my soul.

“I can’t deny it, can I?” I demanded bitterly.

“I think you are better than that.”

He reminded me of Wykeham. It should have been a comfort to have two men who believed that I had even an inch of a better nature, but it was not. When the whole world railed against me, sometimes it was difficult not to believe the defamation. Perhaps I did not deserve happiness. Not when the length and breadth of my sins were tallied up.

“He needs me,” I stated, consigning self-pity to the devil. “I cannot leave him.” To my relief, Windsor made no comment, letting the moment draw out between us. “He loves me, you see,” I continued. “Even though he cannot play the man any longer, he loves me. Does he not deserve my loyal service to the end?”

Windsor turned back to the wall, resting his chin on his hands again. “Think of it like this. If you are not intimate, would it matter if you were wed to me? It would not be a physical betrayal, would it?”

“But the King would see it as a betrayal—and rightly so.”

“I can’t agree. How often does he not know you when you walk into his chamber?” He must have felt my resistance. “Be honest again. You’ve nothing to lose. I’m no gossip.”

No, he was not. “Too often…” I sighed.

“Here’s the thing,” he drove on, the timbre of his voice deepening. “You are vulnerable. And when the King’s dead you will be on your own.”

“And if I wed you, you will stand for me.”

“I will.”

“And in return I will administer your property.”

“Yes.”

“Still a business arrangement, all in all.”

“If you wish to call it that.”

“It’s what it seems to me.” Dismay, like a reaction to the cool breeze after a hot day, shivered over my skin.

His glance was a direct challenge. “Wed me, Alice. Do you have the courage?”

“I don’t think I lack for courage.”

“Then accept!”

I let the idea tumble through my mind as the crows dived and rose once again on the air, a pair enjoying the freedom of their kind. I did not think that I had any freedom.

Windsor sighed. “Alice…”

“No. I won’t. I can’t.”

He did not press me but abandoned me alone to ponder the joy of the two crows flirting above me. I was left trying to deny the effect of his mouth against mine, to deny what I wished for rather than what I was in duty bound to do.

Windsor’s proposal made an uncomfortable bedfellow, and I did not sleep that night.

Marriage. A business agreement was one thing—but marriage? To a man whom I found inordinately attractive. It had an appeal, until integrity demanded that I consider my loyalty to the King. Did he not deserve my fealty, my steadfastness?

Edward smiled serenely, uncomprehendingly, as I wished him good night, kissing his cheek. I might have been the servant who brought him wine at the end of the day to help him to sleep. I had not shared Edward’s bed for physical gratification since he returned from the desperate attempt to invade France. His failure had rendered him impotent, his physical desires vanished entirely, his passionate need for my body transfigured into mild affection when he recognized me. Just as we all knew that Edward would never again lead an army into France, I knew that he would get no more children on me. He might need me to share his bed, but for comfort only: He made no more demands on my body. The years had their cruel sway.

But marriage to Windsor?

When the tenure of my royal position ended, I would have the wealth I needed to bolster the rest of my life and ensure security for my daughters. What more did I need?

You need a man to stand protector.

Did I? No. I had married once and found no joy in it. I would not do so again. I did not even know if I liked William de Windsor. His touch might set fires ablaze in my blood, but that was mere lust. No, he was not for me. If I wed, it would be to some mild, biddable soul who could be managed by a strong-willed woman. I would be no one’s chattel. No, I stated again, firmly in my mind as I considered that undesirable state, marriage was not for me. And it would be a brave woman who agreed to take on William de Windsor.

Are you not a brave woman?

I buried my face in my pillow. He said he loved me but I did not believe him. His proposal had smacked of a transaction to buy property. I should know, should I not?

Not one soft word had he spoken.

I abandoned sleep, taking up a quill to record my most recently purchased manor of Gunnersby, a property on the Thames that would prove far more trustworthy than William de Windsor.

“Good morning, Sir William.” I stood in the little group of shivering courtiers with Edward, who had expressed a wish to fly the falcons. We were on foot, ambling along the riverbank at a speed that would suit the King, who seemed not to feel the cold. “I did not expect to see you so early in the day. Or are you hoping to win royal favor?”

He ignored the bait. “Have you thought about it?”

“I have.”

“Second thoughts, Mistress Perrers?”

I inclined my head in a parody of regal dignity that I knew he would appreciate. “No, Sir William.”

“Let me know when you do.”

“I will not.”

He grinned. “I think you will.”

On our return, as the falconer retrieved his birds and carried them off to the royal mews, there he was again at my shoulder.

“Think of the advantages.”

“There are none.”

“I say there are.” His gaze, forthright, lingering, drove a shaft of heat through my body. I felt it color my cheeks and quickly turned away.

“You are presumptuous, Sir William.”

“I am indeed. Would you cast my offer into the flames without giving it due consideration? You would do as much for an offer on the feudal rights of a manor.”

So I would, damn him!

“A woman would enjoy some words of courtship, Sir William.” I was atrociously demure, studying the gold embroidery-work on my new gloves.

“I am not a man of soft words, Mistress Perrers.” It was a statement of fact, not an excuse, and I could not resist abandoning the stitchery to search his face. There was no subterfuge in the man. He said what he meant, both fine wine and bitter lees of sediment in the cup. If I drank, I would have to accept both.…

“You might try.” Still I hoped for something that might have a leaning toward courtship. “If you truly want my hand in marriage.”

“I have no poetry in my soul.”

Neither had I—but I would have liked to hear some from him. I think he saw my disappointment, for, stretching out his hand, he drew the tip of his finger along the curve of my cheek.

My heart turned over, a little leap of pure delight.

I thought about it again. I thought about Janyn Perrers. I thought about Edward. I worried the subject to death in the early hours. What would it be like to be tied to a man who did not need my care? A man whom I was free to choose or reject. I had no experience of such freedom. What would it be like to love a man of my own free will? I had no idea.

It would be far better for you if you loved no one!

As for that…

Discreetly I watched Windsor fit seamlessly into the daily pattern of the Court. His agility with horse or sword in mock combat, his merciless single-mindedness in hand-to-hand conflict, the tip of his sword resting against his opponent’s throat—until he put it aside to grasp the man’s hand in mutual congratulation. The arrogant lift of his head. The proud knightly stance. Stop it, Alice!

He was not a handsome man, but he took my eye.

I felt again that unexpected caress of his fingertip that made my face burn.

And I watched Edward slip further and further away from me, until the morning he demanded in a querulous manner as I curtsied before him, “Philippa? Where have you been? Have you persuaded Isabella not to wed de Coucy? Tell her I’ll not have it.…”

It tipped me over the edge.

He saw me coming, and immediately stepped away from where he was loitering by a huddle of equally dissolute idlers who were casting dice to pass the time. Inactivity did not suit him. I kept my expression stern.

“Change of heart, dear Alice?”

“Yes.”

His brows climbed infinitesimally, but at least he did not allow victory to descend into smugness. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good—I like a woman who does not mince her words.”

I left the arrangements to Windsor, for he had the freedom from the public eye that I did not. Still it was a simple matter for me to make the excuse of visiting my little girls at Pallenswick. I was free to travel, had been so since the birth of John, and after a brief halt at Pallenswick I would make my way to Gaines near Upminster, a manor we had bought in partnership, and in Windsor’s name. Edward stared vaguely at the wall beyond my shoulder and gave no recognition when I touched his hand in farewell.

I did not try to explain. John Beverley would care for him. My absence would not be a long one.

Windsor traveled separately. I was seated alone in my barge, rowed swiftly by the oarsmen who made easy weather of it with the pull of the tide. With every mile my nerves leaped like crickets in the summer heat. There in Upminster we were wed in a simple service in the village church with no fuss and no guests, no bridal ring for me or gifts exchanged between us at the altar. There was nothing to mark the occasion but for a solemn taking of vows; Windsor’s steward and William Greseley were stolid witnesses. Greseley, perhaps recalling a previous marriage, managed what might have passed for a smile.

“I always knew you would have an adventurous life, mistress.”

“And I have you to thank for much of it.” I knew what I owed him.

“I have a manor in mind to purchase, not too far from here.…”

I stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Tomorrow, Greseley. That will keep for tomorrow. For today—I am busy.”

It had been many years since acquisition of property had not been my prime concern. But not today. Today was for my marriage. Today was for the man who stood at my side and was now my husband.

I stood in the porch of a house I did not know, feeling nothing but shock, blind to the assets of the little wood-and-plaster manor of which I was now joint owner. I had done it. I had married him. And there he was, throwing back the door, gesturing for me to walk into the entrance hall, smiling at me.

Words would not come. In all that I had done in my life, I had no experience of such a relationship, stepped into at my own behest. It was like hopping from familiar territory into a strange land, all subtle shadows and traps for the unwary. As I entered, my heels echoing disconcertingly on the wide oak floorboards patterned with their whorls and knots, I was afraid.

“Well, Lady de Windsor?”

I shivered a little. Then laughed at how easily it had all been achieved. Yet perhaps it was not easy at all. How much did I really know about the man who stood regarding me? It was not easy to untangle my feelings for him.

“I suppose I am lady of the manor.”

“You are indeed.” He took my hand to lead me through the nearest doorway, rubbing my fingers between his. “You’re cold. Come in—there should be a fire lit in here. Can’t have my wife being cold.” Then on a thought: “Did I actually say that?”

“I think so.” I hardly registered the small paneled parlor, the pleasurable warmth, the polished furniture. Every sense was fixed on this man who had swept me off my feet. And had I not allowed him to do so? I removed my hood and mantle and placed them on a gleaming settle. “I suppose you intend to consummate this business arrangement in the proper manner?”

“Of course.”

“A cup of wine and a signature on a document?”

He was already pouring the wine with solemn concentration, the flagon and cups having been made ready for us. His preparations had been meticulous. I took the one presented to me, raising it to my lips.

“I had a more energetic consummation in mind!”

And I laughed again. How easy he was to talk to, to laugh with. And how much my body desired that consummation. And then a thought wormed its way into my mind, for no apparent reason.

“Have you shared a bed with many women?” I asked bluntly.

“Yes.” He lifted his cup in a silent toast. “Does it matter?”

“No.”

“I won’t ask you the same.”

“No.” I sighed a little. “But I was a virgin when I went to Edward’s bed.” And wished I had not brought the specter of the King into the room. I grimaced mildly. “Forgive me.…”

“It’s not easy, is it, Alice?” He touched my hand with such understanding that my heart lurched.

“No. It is not.” Nothing in my life had been easy.

“We knew it would not be. This day is ours. We’ll not let others intrude.”

We consummated our union in time-honored fashion, between the lavender-scented linen of Windsor’s bed—what an efficient housekeeper he had acquired. How thoughtful he had been of my comfort—and for a soldiering man, astonishingly so. And how careful he was with me, an unexpected gentleness. Until his energies got the best of him, and he approached the task of disrobing me like initiating a campaign against the Irish: with a wealth of cunning and stealth to destroy all barriers. Not that there were any real obstacles to overcome between us. Were we not both experienced? Only my own unusual, unsettling reticence held me back.

“Alice…!” I had felt my muscles stiffen as he unfastened the lacing on my gown, letting his fingers trail across my nape. “You are allowed to enjoy this.”

“I know. It’s just that…”

“I know what it is.…You think too much. Let me seduce your mind as well as your body.” His breath was warm, his lips soft along the line of my shoulder.

“You don’t know any poetry,” I managed on an intake of breath as he kissed the sensitive skin below my ear.

“But I do know how to use my lips for other purposes than mouthing meaningless sentiments. Like this…”

He was inordinately successful.

I did not compare him with Edward. I did not. I would not. There were no ghosts there with us, not Edward, certainly not Janyn Perrers. As for the nameless, faceless wraiths of Windsor’s ghostly amours, I did not feel even one of them treading on my hem as he led me to the bed.

And then Windsor filled my entire mind. He was a new lover, with new caresses and heart-stopping skills, a resourceful lover whom it would take time to get to know.

As things were, I did not think I had that time.

On a practical note—a very necessary one—I took care to protect myself with the old wives’ nostrum of a carefully positioned fold of wool soaked in cedar gum, messy but essential. It would not do for Windsor to get a child on me, and I bred easily. Were we not, even through our marriage, opening Pandora’s box, allowing the escape of a multitude of dangers? A child would put weapons into the hands of those who did not love me. Besides, I was in no doubt: Whatever censure might be leveled at my own actions, Edward must be protected. I would not carry another child. I would never foist another man’s child on Edward, or brand him as a cuckold.

And Windsor? He understood, and accepted. We both saw the yawning perils of our position, the strange delicacy with which our marriage must be conducted.

I received no bride gift after my wedding night. I did not care. For the first time in my life I had been given a gift that was far more precious than monetary value. I could not yet put a name to it, but I knew its value.

A strange happiness settled within me, like a bird come home to its nest. Physical delight made me languorous. A meeting of minds, as equals—for were we not equal in ambition and talents?—satiated me with pleasure. And so we lived out a little idyll at our manor at Gaines, far from enemies and Court intrigues and the pressures of the world. The few days we snatched away were long and warm, perfect for new lovers.

For that short time I was able to set aside my nagging fears for the future. I laid aside my anxiety over Edward in my absence. He was well cared for. My children were safe and lacked for nothing: I had enough wealth in land to protect them. Why should I not allow myself these few days for my own enjoyment? When had I last done that? I could not recall. Without guilt I wallowed in sheer self-indulgence, as we spoke of the inconsequential things that come to those who share a bed and a creeping, blossoming contentment in each other’s companionship. Certainly nothing of our lives outside the walls of the manor was allowed to intrude. We sat or strolled as the mood took us, rode out in the meadows, ate and drank. Made love, like the young lovers we were not.

Did I regret my precipitate decision? Not for a moment.

Did Windsor? I think not.

When, as it must, my mind began to escape the confines I had set it, to reach out to that other life, there remained a fine solace to my very soul, wrapping around me like a fur on a winter’s morning. When Edward died, God rest his soul, I would not be alone. I would be with this man whom I…

My careless thoughts slammed up against a barrier like a battering ram against a stone buttress. Uninvited, horribly intruding, fear bit deep. The words refused to form in my mind, although my heart urged them on.

With this man whom I had an affection for. That was enough.

Windsor’s caresses awakened my body to an awareness of him that I had not anticipated. As all my earlier reticence was swept away by his experienced touch, I used my skill to make him shiver.

“I told you, you would not regret your decision,” he whispered against my throat. “Why are you always so reluctant to believe what I tell you?”

“Because I know you for a devious man. And you, Will? Do you wish you had never made me that offer?”

“I knew I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. It was merely a matter of timing.”

“Long-term planning.”

“I am a master at it. And I am content.”

I believed him. So was I too content. I would change nothing. But did I wish to commit myself in similar words? It is dangerous to open yourself, body and soul, to a man you barely know and whom you suspect of less than altruistic motives. And yet I did speak them.

“I am content.”

And what did I do? I destroyed this new contentment.

Willfully, wantonly.

Because I was afraid.

Every day I was conscious of the moods of my new husband, learning to read them, learning his interests, learning the workings of his mind. I grew to know his care for me, the tenderness that sometimes undermined all my determination to remain a little aloof, and the fire of passion when we came together within the curtains of his bed. And throughout our rural sojourn, I was conscious of an energy burning deep within him, to be, to do, to act, to be engaged with the world beyond our bedchamber. It burned quite as strongly as the passion. He never spoke of it. He never said a word of his ambition to be elsewhere. And I loved him more for that.…

Love?

My realization of it stole my breath. Too soon, too reckless. Too hazardous. Why would I seek an inner fervor that robbed me of my freedom? I feared it like the plague. I would flee from it if I could.

In the end, honesty took me in hand and I could no longer deny the murmurings of my heart, but it was only to my own innermost thoughts that I spoke the word, savoring it on my tongue. I had hidden my emotions for so long, I was incapable of baring my soul to anyone. I had never done so to Janyn, to whom I was a means to an end. Nor to Edward, who was not interested in my soul. Before God, I could not expose my vulnerability to William de Windsor, who seemed against all the laws of nature to hold my heart in his hands. For if I did, would not that double, treble, quadruple my weakness? Better that I kept my own counsel. Better that I did not give him the power to hurt me. He did not love me. I would not put the power to wound into his hand.

So what did I do to our magical sojourn together? I destroyed it.

Here was my inarguable logic. If I did not destroy it, it would destroy itself, imploding on its inward-turning sweetness. A delight it might be now, but its honeyed intensity would soon rot our teeth. We could not stay together away from the world of the Court, where our ambitions must be played out. Windsor could not; and I had a duty elsewhere. At least this destruction was on my terms, with the hope of a renaissance, a reconciliation at some point and time in the future. My love was not on my terms, because I did not want it, but this decision would be. I would claw back control. Simply to preserve what we had, frozen in that sweet ice, would kill it slowly, for neither of us was made for domesticity, for happiness confined within four walls.

And yet in my heart I yearned for it. What I wanted and what I knew I must not want warred within me. And the victory of common sense near broke my heart.

On our return to Court, separately, discreetly as we must, I went immediately to Edward.

“Alice! Come and play chess with me.…”

He recognized me, welcomed me, defeated my wayward manipulation of my knight against his bishop with a few clever moves that I had been too preoccupied to follow, but I think he did not know that I had been absent for more than a few hours. I talked to him and explained what I wanted him to do. And he did it, accepting the rightness of my advice, signing and sealing the document.

My heart wept and my mind rejoiced at my success.

I took it to Windsor’s room, little more than a passageway, in one of the distant wings. Going there was indiscreet, perhaps, but I chose my time and closed his door at my back, wishing there were another way as I offered the document, stepping no closer. If I did, I might be seduced by the strength of his arms. And if he kissed me…I thrust the document forward between us. “This is what you want, Will.”

He took it, his eye traveling down, then up, his face illuminated with this victory, and I knew that I had done the right thing.

“Ireland!” he said.

“Yes. Ireland.”

“King’s Lieutenant.”

“A valuable office.”

“So you will be rid of me sooner than we thought.”

“Yes.”

He folded the document carefully, his mind suddenly arrested, as I knew it must be. “Is this your doing?”

“No.” I perjured myself without regret.

His glance was sharp. “What made him change his mind?”

“Who’s to say?”

So great was my sense of impending loss that I actually turned to leave him to enjoy his achievement alone.

“Is this difficult for you?” His question stopped me.

To persuade Edward, or to let you go?

And I knew he suspected my hand in it, despite my denial. Our knowledge of each other had grown apace.

“No.” My voice was steady. “Edward needs a man of ability, not a young man barely out of adolescence—and as you so frequently say, who is there but you?”

“You knew it would be like this, Alice.”

“Yes.”

Still, the space yawned between us. He was the one to close it, to kiss me with a familiar echo of the passion I had come to desire.

“It’s what I want, Alice.” Did he think I did not know it? For a brief moment it grieved me that he should desire that distant office more than he desired me, but with his words, the sorrow passed. “I’ll miss you more than I ever thought I could miss a woman.” The wound healed a little, and I pressed my forehead against his shoulder. Until he lifted my chin so he could look at my face. “I’d ask if you’ll miss me…but you’ll never admit to that, will you?”

“No. How can I?” I frowned, caught in the toils of the dilemma I had helped create. He rubbed at the groove between my brows with his fingers.

“What’s this? Guilt?”

“A little,” I admitted. “Perhaps the King’s Concubine is not free to miss you. Perhaps she is not free to have her emotions engaged.”

“Does the King engage them?”

“With friendship. Compassion. Respect. All of those. I will not leave him, Will. I am not free to do so until his death.”

At last the document that would take him from me was cast aside. Windsor’s voice was tender. “Then I would say that the King could have no more loyal subject. And still I say you are free to miss me.”

“Then I will.” I would give him that, at least, and I thrust my guilt away.

His lips were soft on my brow. “Write to me.”

“And risk interception?”

“You don’t have to admit your undying love. Not that you would anyway!”

I laughed softly. We understood each other. “I’ll write.”

We made use of that one snatched opportunity to be together, in Windsor’s sparely furnished room. Our coming together was unsatisfactory, all in all, both of us with our senses stretched against possible discovery, struggling to make the best use of the narrow pallet. Little clothing removed, a hasty coupling—it was a reaffirmation of our commitment to each other rather than an outpouring of passion. And yet I would not have him leave me without experiencing that intimacy once more. How many months would it be before I saw him again?

We exchanged few words. What was there to say?

“Keep safe,” he whispered.

“And you.”

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts, Alice.”

“And you in mine, Will.”

He was gone within the week. I could not put my loss into words; it was too great. He had said he would think of me, which was as much as I could hope for. For the first time in my life I knew what it was to have a broken heart.

How can it be broken! I upbraided my foolishness. It cannot be broken unless you love him. And, of course, you do not! And William de Windsor? I received an unexpected communication from my absent husband within the month. After a brief summary of events in Dublin, he added:

I said that I would miss you, Alice, did I not? I do. You belong to me, and it seems that I belong to you. Keep in good health. I need to know that you are safe for my return, whenever that might be.

It was the closest to poetry that I would ever get from him. It was a precious thing. And yes, I wept.