Read Online Cicely's King Richard (Cicely Plantagenet Trilogy) by Sandra Heath Wilson - Free Book Online Page A

His tread was light and swift, and he was alone. His fur-lined cloak was wet with snow, some of which still clung to his thigh boots. At the top of the steps he removed his gauntlets and his hat, which was pinned with a costly emerald and pearl brooch. There was no table, so he dropped both gauntlets and hat on the floor. She saw how thickly his wavy, very dark chestnut hair fell to his shoulders. It would tangle, she thought, for its texture was like her own.
    He was about to take off the heavy cloak, his precious rings shining in the smoking light of the torches, when he realized she was there. She sank down on the floor, against the wall, unable to move or speak. His face grew serious, and he let his cloak fall carelessly with his other things, before coming towards her.
    He was clad in a green velvet doublet and black hose; the doublet’s arms were slashed to reveal heavy gold embroidery, and he had a presence that was far removed from the monster her mother accused him of being. Around his lean waist was an emerald-studded belt from which hung a sheathed dagger, and across his shoulders rested the magnificent livery collar of York that her father had worn so often, although the pendant that swung from it now was not the lion or sun in splendour, but the white boar.
    She flinched and closed her eyes tightly as he put out his hand. There seemed a desperately long pause before he spoke. ‘My poor Cicely, what have they been telling you about me?’
    His voice was gentle, not fierce or angry, and she opened her eyes to look at him. At last he was before her, clearly, and she gazed up at his handsome, aristocratic face. Jane Shore was right, he was beautiful, but in a very masculine way, and he reached out to something deep inside his second niece. She had been a child when last she saw him, but she was older now and could see more surely because of it, and in that single moment she knew exactly why her sister was in love with him. And why Jane Shore would not have hesitated to lie with him.
    He was not a muscular man by any means, but of slender build and slightly less than middle height, and would have been taller but for the affliction to his back. She knew he had been straight enough as a boy, for so her father had told her. The sideways curve of his spine had come when he was only ten or so. But it did not matter that his body was not perfect, for his rich clothes hid the fact anyway. All she saw was him. He was spellbinding, and everything about him passed into her soul.
    ‘Why do you fear me, Cicely? I would not harm you. I am your uncle, not your enemy.’
    At last she found her tongue. ‘My brothers . . .’
    ‘Ah, yes. You believe it all, do you?’ As he bent to take her hands and pull her to her feet, she could smell the costmary on his clothes. With unexpected attention, he pushed her untidy hair away from her face, and then stepped back to look at her from head to toe. ‘You have grown somewhat since I last saw you, and I am glad to see you do not shave your forehead.’
    ‘You are?’
    He nodded. ‘You look very well as you are.’ Then he smiled. ‘So, you are growing up, but believe me, your troubles are only just beginning.’
    ‘Troubles?’
    ‘It does not matter, I meant nothing.’
    ‘Yes, you did.’
    His grey eyes swung back to her in surprise. ‘You would argue with me?’
    ‘Would you mind if I did?’
    He hesitated, but then shook his head. ‘I do not believe so.’
    ‘What did you mean that my troubles are only just beginning?’
    ‘That the course of life does not always go as we hope.’
    She gazed at him. ‘Has yours?’
    ‘Jesu, lady, you ask a lot of questions. No, my life has not gone as I hoped, but there is little I can do about it.’
    ‘Maybe it would have done if you had chopped off the heads of all your enemies. Every last one.’
    He was amused. ‘Possibly, and I have reaped the consequences of the oversight.’
    ‘Do not be so merciful again, Your Grace.’
    He