Two Novels: The Intended and Flame

Chapter 14

14

“A midsummer wedding, perhaps?” the duke of Norfolk suggested, eyeing Robert Radcliffe, earl of Essex and new Lord Great Chamberlain, across the table.

“That’s too soon,” Essex responded, looking noncommittally at a parchment in his hand. “Though we expect to receive word any day now regarding the negotiations with the queen’s family, it is unreasonable to expect the king to officially annul his marriage to Anne of Cleves until the end of July.”

“A fall wedding, then,” the duke growled irritably.

“Nay, Norfolk. Much too late for king’s liking.”

Catherine Howard picked up her cup of wine and glared petulantly at the two men huddled at one end of the table. Her uncle and the Lord Chamberlain were two of the dullest old men alive—she was convinced of it. Staring at the Lord Chamberlain’s bald head, she decided he would probably collapse into a pile of dust if someone were to shake him. She looked at the servants and clerks standing in two small groups by the door and wondered which one of them would be man enough to do it. With a quiet sigh, she glanced back at the two noblemen discussing her wedding—every detail of the blasted thing.

Catherine was bored. She couldn’t recall ever being quite so bored. She had been standing in this room for over half an hour listening to their drivel. Why, she thought angrily, couldn’t they just finish this? And why did she need to be here, anyway?

Sighing audibly this time, she turned her back on the two men, and her gaze came to rest on Edward, sitting at the far end of the long table. Her eyes boldly devoured all of him. His handsome face wore an expression of boredom, as well, and his eyes flashed only momentarily in her direction. She could tell he was forcing himself to look past her; even his look of ennui had vanished. But she knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off her for long.

Making Edward crazy with desire had always been a favorite sport for Catherine, and one in which she was quite adept. Throwing a casual glance over her shoulder at the two older men, Catherine sauntered slowly down the room, holding the cool cup against her cheek with one hand and letting her other hand trail over the backs of the carved wood chairs. Her eyes focused on Edward’s face—on his gray eyes, his full lips. Gazing at that mouth, she could even now feel his lips and tongue tugging at her n*****s. Oh, how he had made her cry out in ecstasy, his long, thick shaft nestled deep within her.

Feeling fresh desire stir deep in her belly, Catherine continued to make her way toward him. Edward had pushed his chair back from the table, and he sat with his legs spread before him, one hand resting on the polished wood surface. By his hand on the table sat a pitcher of wine. Catherine’s chest heaved slightly as she considered what would happen if the two of them were alone right now. She would move directly in front of him and raise her skirts. As always, he would be far too impatient to let her undress. She would climb onto his lap, straddling him. It would be a simple business to free his manhood of its codpiece. She could feel the heat of his breath on her skin as his strong hands pulled down her dress. His teeth and tongue, rough on her n****e. His arousal, pulsing and hard, probing at her moist folds and driving deep between her legs. Catherine paused, shuddering involuntarily with the exhilaration of the vision.

Letting out a long breath, she moved even closer. The two gruff voices droned on behind her. Catherine thrilled at the sight of Edward’s eyes, now focused on her every step, rising only to linger over at her swaying hips, rising again and halting on her breasts as she laid the cup against her skin there. She felt the wetness between her legs and the tightness in her middle that cried out for the man’s touch.

Catherine stopped beside him and, with a casual wave, dismissed an approaching servant, picking up the pitcher of wine herself. Her skirts brushed seductively against the knee of one of his high boots.

“Did you have an enjoyable morning, cousin?” she asked sweetly, filling her cup to the top.

“Most entertaining,” he growled softly.

“The hunt went well?”

“The game here is so abundant.” His eyes lingered meaningfully on her breasts before glancing away toward the servants. They were too far away to hear anything.

“Ah, but so little time for the truly pleasurable pursuits.”

“Aye, cousin.” His gaze turned slowly and bore into her eyes. “And it would appear the time for those pleasures is growing even shorter.”

“You could take me right here, if that would be more to your liking.” Catherine’s eyes roamed the room. Her leg rubbed suggestively at his knee.

A wry smile crossed Edward’s face. “I think that might just upset the negotiations going on at the other end.”

“But it would certainly add some excitement.”

Edward stared at her. “Excitement? Aye. And danger, too.”

“I thought you lived for danger, cousin.” Catherine brought the cup to her lips and let her pink tongue lick seductively at the edge. His eyes never left her mouth. “I’m quite certain you’d find the rewards worthy of the risk.”

“I’m certain, as well.”

“Then perhaps, tonight.”

“Catherine. Edward.”

Her uncle’s voice cut through their talk like Lenten sleet. Shutting her eyes, she tried to control her sudden anger, her annoyance at his meddling. As Edward stood, she opened them, turning with the look of a demure and obedient niece. “Do you require something of me, uncle?”

Norfolk pushed his chair sharply away from the table, and the Lord Great Chamberlain followed suit.

“Have the documents sent up, Essex, if you would.” Norfolk said to the other man, a note of satisfaction obvious in his tone.

The Lord Chamberlain nodded and bowed to Catherine. “Your servant, mistress.”

“It’s settled,” the duke of Norfolk said, rubbing his hands as Essex and his entourage exited the chamber. “Assuming the negotiations are concluded in Flanders regarding the queen’s future, you’re to wed at the end of July. And apparently it makes no difference to the king whether it takes place here, at Kenninghall, or on the royal barge in the Thames.”

Catherine nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Edward,” the duke said, rolling up the parchment on the table. “I believe it would be highly politic of you to marry Jaime after the king and Catherine marry.”

“Whatever you think best, Father,” Edward replied indifferently.

“Besides,” Norfolk continued, “we still need to work out the details of her grandfather’s estates. And I don’t know that the b****y Macphersons are about to give up the lands in Kent without a bit of arm twisting.”

“Very well,” Edward agreed, glancing up at Catherine’s face. Her skin was livid with rage. Her eyes were daggers of fury.

“Come along, Catherine, Edward.” The duke started for the door without a backward glance. “We’ve a great deal to do.”

“We’ll follow along momentarily,” the knight said, trying to keep his voice even as his father passed out of the room.

“You’re to marry?” she hissed under her breath as soon as the door closed behind the departing duke.

He nodded, “Aye, why not?”

“To Jaime? A half-blooded Scot?”

“To our cousin,” he answered quietly.

“She is no cousin of mine. She’s a self-serving prig. She’s a Scot...barely more than an animal. She knows nothing of propriety. She mixes servants and masters, for God’s sake!”

Edward looked away, trying to distance himself from her anger.

“She is a faster worker than I thought.” Catherine slammed her cup on the table. “Tell me, how is she in bed?”

He ignored her question. “We should be going.”

“She must be foul. Otherwise you would have come bragging to me.” She sniggered viciously. “It must be her money.”

His face blackened, and his eyes were narrow slits of steel, but Catherine was too angry to notice. She and Edward were lovers long before she had left for court. He had taken her first when she was just fourteen. And he had come to her bed every day since he’d arrived here. She didn’t care a jot whom he married. But to hear from the old duke, and not from him, that he was to wed to that half-Scot, half-French hussy. Coward, she thought.

“Well, dear cousin, I never thought this day would come.”

“Marriage between us was never a possibility,” Edward began.

“Marriage? Hah!” Her mirthless laugh had the cutting edge of a blade. “Nay, I mean the day when you would bend to being dependent on your wife. To ask her father, a beast of a Scot, for a spending allowance. To have them provide you with a home.” A nasty smile appeared on her face. “Tell me, does she already carry your balls in her money purse?”

“Catherine,” he growled threateningly.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to be living in Scotland. It is no secret at court that once the old duke dies, your brother Surrey will be cutting you off without a farthing.”

She watched Edward’s hands curl into fists at his side—his jaw clenched, the muscles on the side of his face twitching nervously. Well, she thought with satisfaction, she had struck close to home.

“The second son,” she continued, her tone thick with feigned pity. “Poor Edward, the boy needs to marry a rich girl to survive. Desperate Edward, selling his pride and placing his neck under his enemy’s foot, just so they will pay his keep.”

She leaned forward and hooked her fingers into his belt. Her whisper was barely audible when she spoke to him. “On second thought, I could take care of you, cousin. Do not forget, I am to become your queen. And you must gratify me as I please. Aye, please me well, Edward, and I perhaps will give you enough to keep you out of the Scot’s clutches.”

Without another word, Catherine spun on her heel and started for the door, never seeing the gaze, cold and ruthless, that he turned upon her.