Chapter Thirteen #2
“It didn’t look like you were putting her out. It looked like you were enjoying yourself quite thoroughly.” She was almost frightened by the savagery in her voice.
Dominic’s cheeks darkened. “I swear to you by all that is holy, I did not sleep with her that night. We had a brief … liaison when I was last at the French court two years ago. She wished to take advantage of that. And think of me what you like, Minuette, but I have the desires and weaknesses of all men. I should not have kissed her as I did. But that was the whole of it, I swear. And you are avoiding my question.”
“I don’t believe you actually asked me anything.” With every patient statement Dominic made, she wanted more than ever to break his infuriating control. If that smug French girl could shake him so that he acted on impulse, why couldn’t she?
She wanted to hurt him as she’d been hurt, so she said the worst thing she could think of.
“Will touches me, you know. When we are alone. You did not imagine we spend all that time playing chess, did you? His control is not as good as yours—or is it that he desires me more? He is careful, of course, of my honour. I am virgin still, if it matters to you. But I have spent much time with my eyes closed and his hands and mouth on me, and do you know what I see then? Always you.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Be honest? I know a woman is not supposed to feel this way, or at least a lady isn’t.
But it is the truth. When I saw you kissing that woman, I wanted to be her.
I wanted to be the one coming from you half dressed and wanton.
I want you, Dominic, in every way. I think it is you who must regret loving me, for you have scarcely come near me for months. ”
Her eyes were stinging and she struggled with all her might not to cry. She had meant to hurt him, not humiliate herself. She hadn’t even known how deeply his coldness had damaged her until it spilled out.
Dominic moved so swiftly that she just had time to breathe in before he pulled her against him.
His kiss was not gentle, not sensitive and careful like he usually was.
It was demanding and brutal, and Minuette met it with equal passion.
Her hands wound into his hair, seeking to tug him closer.
His arms dropped to her hips and tightened, holding her fixed against him.
At some point she felt herself back into the table’s edge.
Dominic released her just long enough to shove a spot clear of dishes and food and then she pulled him with her as he laid her down on the wooden surface.
“You think I do not want you?” His voice was rougher than she’d ever heard it when he pulled away.
“If I did not love you so much, I would show you this moment that my desire is the equal of any man’s.
Do you imagine I have not thought of the possibilities?
A di future marriage—we have made our future vows.
I dream every night of cementing that promise with my body.
And if we were anyone else, I would. But to do it right, Minuette, to marry with a priest and witnesses, so that it cannot be undone—that is worth waiting for. ”
“So your honour will always be greater than your desire,” she snapped, shoving against his chest until he moved and let her up. She hated that he could be so reasonable when she seemed to be all blood and breath and warm skin.
“Do you want me to take you on a table?” he yelled. “Get you with child and make a hasty marriage after? The last court couple who tried that are both in the Tower!”
“Stop it!”
“I will not take you in secret. Give me the word, and I’ll go straight to William myself and tell him the truth.”
“We can’t just throw this in his face. He’s not ready to hear it.”
“He’ll never be ready, Minuette. I know you don’t want to hurt him. But he isn’t a child, and he wouldn’t thank you for treating him as such.”
“Don’t tell me how to deal with William!”
He shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was controlled now, and his expression. But his eyes were deep with sorrow. “You won’t confess, and I won’t lie.”
Her skin that had burned so hot flushed with cold. She knew that implacable tone—it meant that Dominic would not be moved. “So where does that leave us?”
“I won’t force the issue against your will. But I can’t be alone with you until this is settled. When we return to court, I will ask the king to give me leave. I should spend some time at Tiverton now that I am its master. When you have made your choice, you let me know.”
This isn’t happening, she thought. She stared after him blankly, bewildered and heartsick as he turned away. Before vanishing through the door, he stopped and said, “I am glad to know you are virgin still. If you were not, I should have to kill him.”
Elizabeth was reunited with William at their father’s lavish but still unfinished Nonsuch Palace.
The fortified north side was medieval in appearance, but the south side had all the splendor of octagonal towers and decorative elements.
Her brother greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks in the inner courtyard with its high-relief stucco panels, then led her into one of the towers for a private dinner.
Truly private, for he dismissed the attendants curtly and, the moment they were alone, snapped about her decision not to bring Minuette with her. “She’ll be as anxious to see me as I am to see her. Why did you send her on to Dominic’s mother?”
“As a courtesy. They have long been correspondents.”
“A courtesy the woman will not remember. Her mind is gone.”
“She is mad only now and again. Surely you can spare Minuette for a few days longer? Besides, this will help settle rumours of your affections, which you must know have already spread to the French court.”
What else could she say? Tell him that Minuette and Dominic had been quarreling (as much as one could quarrel with a maddeningly reserved man like Dominic), that Minuette had behaved erratically that last night in France, flirting outrageously and drinking far too much for her own good?
She couldn’t say any of that. Nor could she explain the uneasy feeling that had settled in her stomach as she’d watched Minuette and Dominic at odds with other during the journey home.
One who should not be watching her in quite the manner that he is, Walsingham had warned her. Surely he hadn’t meant Dominic. And yet …
Since she couldn’t say any of that, she parried. “Have you and Robert quarreled?”
“Why, because I did not bring him along to our private celebration tonight?” he asked sarcastically. “I thought his absence might settle the rumours of your affections, Sister.”
She blinked. William was often imperious, but almost never rude. Not to her.
And she knew that they had fought. Robert had written to her often during her sojourn in France, and the things he had not said were even more revealing than the things he had.
She opened her mouth to be biting, and realized that William wasn’t really speaking to her. His temperament was all about who wasn’t here: he was taut, almost frantic, with his impatience to see Minuette.
So she changed her sentence to, “How was your visit to Kenninghall? Did the Howards behave themselves?”
“Impeccably.”
“Including Eleanor?”
“Indeed. I think you would not know her now. She has … softened. Grown up. Motherhood suits her.” William spoke casually, as if he thought nothing of it, but she did not miss the strained set of his shoulders or the way his eyes darted without settling on her.
Elizabeth was more inclined to believe that widowhood suited Eleanor Percy. “And the child?”
“She is healthy, active. Only sixteen months and already she can speak intelligibly.”
“What does she look like?” she asked, meaning, Who does she look like?
He met Elizabeth’s eyes at last. “Her hair is red-gold and curls naturally.”
Like my own, she thought painfully.
“She is called Anne,” William added.
To keep from showing that any of this had shaken her, Elizabeth said, “Presumptuous of Eleanor, giving her child that name.”
“My child. She is mine, Elizabeth. I am taking steps to recognize her formally. And Eleanor will return to Lady Rochford’s household at court. It was her only request.”
Because of that red-gold hair, she thought. Being invited to court is Eleanor’s reward for having living proof of my brother’s virility.
“Be careful, Will. I’m not sure who will be less pleased—Dominic or Minuette.”
He laughed, clearly relieved that she didn’t intend to lecture. “Minuette, no doubt about it. But she will have to learn to trust me. Now, tell me about this new man you’ve retained. Walton something?”
“Walsingham.”
“Another scholar, like John Dee?”
“Walsingham knows Dee, but his talents are … varied. Lord Burghley also knows him; it was his letter of introduction that got him to me in France. He is an intelligent man with a wide acquaintance. I shall certainly find him something useful to do.” Like keep an eye on you, she decided.
For some reason, she didn’t want to tell William that Walsingham had tracked Dominic for her to the Spanish ambassador.
Better if she had her own sources of intelligence and kept them private.
Even she never knew everything that William might think of.
But some secrets she could not in good conscience keep.
“He had a letter from John Dee while we were in France. It seems Dee is concerned about the Duke of Northumberland. The duke has been receiving guests while he has remained away from court—men of radical disposition and the will to enforce it with arms.”
“So I’ve heard,” William replied, snatching away her momentary triumph. “Rochford’s keeping an eye on them. He thinks it’s mostly Northumberland busying himself while waiting to see what I do about Guildford.”
“What are you going to do?”