A Love Most Dangerous by Lake Martin

Author:Lake, Martin [Lake, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2015-01-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Favorite

1 April 1538

Now the whole world knows that I have a favorite. The King’s words echoed in my mind throughout the rest of the evening. I danced with the King a number of times and watched the jugglers and listened to the singers. But my mind was in a whirl.

The King had publicly danced with me, taken me by the hand and led me to the Queen’s Throne. I was his favorite and now the whole of the Court knew it.

He was right when he said that there was to be no more skulking down corridors for me. He led me by the hand from the Great Hall and we ascended the staircase to his Private Chambers together.

I could feel a thousand eyes boring into my back. Few of them, I knew, would be wishing me well.

The King was boisterous as a pup when we got into his bed.

“That showed that scoundrel Thomas Seymour,” he cried. “The effrontery of the man. Dancing with you without a by-your-leave.”

He leaned closer to me, a sudden suspicion flashing in his eyes.

“Do you know Thomas Seymour, Alice? Have you met him before?”

My heart missed a beat. It would be best if I told the truth, I realized, and, indeed, I had nothing to hide concerning the man. I told the King all my dealings with him.

He grew angry as he listened and then laughed and waved his hand dismissively.

“So he lusts after you, Alice, just as I thought when I saw him dance with you. Well, I put him in his place tonight. And that’s just the start of it.”

I slid over his body and began to kiss him. He was aroused in a moment and we performed the act with much noise and gusto. As soon as we had finished, the King gave a huge grin.

“That showed Thomas Seymour,” he murmured and promptly fell asleep.

I climbed off the King and lay back in the bed. The candle by the bedside flamed strongly, casting deep shadows across the room.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. This was not what I expected. This was not what I wanted. I found my hand pressed against my lips, like a little girl who realized she had done something her daddy would find disappointing.

No, this was not what I wanted.

I stared at the glow the candle cast upon the ceiling. It pulsed as if it were a living thing, breathing and sighing, strong one moment, weakening the next. I stared into the shadows beyond the glimmering light.

What did I want? What had led me to this dangerous adventure?

I knew what I did not want.

I did not want a life of service to others who I knew to be my inferiors in gifts and spirit. I did not want to be a woman who danced attendance upon a countess, a duchess or a queen.

I did not want a life of penury with the only hope of escape a reluctant marriage to some

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