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

gazed at her for a long moment. ‘You have changed more than I imagined. Perhaps I should have you sit on my Council?’
    She smiled, drawn to him more and more. Not even her father had allowed her to speak with such latitude. ‘I will do so if you wish it, Your Grace.’
    He laughed suddenly. ‘I do believe you would.’ He studied her again. ‘What do you think, Cicely? Was I right to ascend to the throne? After all, it did you no favour.’
    ‘I know my father’s pre-contract was real, Your Grace, so yes, you were right.’
    ‘You bear me no grudge?’
    She shook her head. ‘No grudge, Your Grace. Because you were right,’ she said again. She could hardly believe she was so forthright with him, but he invited it and she admired him for it.
    ‘Well, since you are evidently now a lady, I must tell you I have been given to understand that your father consented to your marriage to Ralph Scrope.’
    ‘Oh.’ She felt her cheeks go crimson. Was there anyone who did not know of her passing interest in Ralph?
    ‘Is it true? Because if it is, I will see that it comes about.’
    She gazed at him in dismay, unable to speak.
    He gave a slight laugh. ‘You are not speechless with delight. You do like Scrope, do you not?’
    ‘Well . . .’
    He searched her eyes in the torchlight. ‘But not enough for marriage?’
    ‘No. Something Bess said made me realize—’ She broke off, her face suffusing even more as she remembered what the conversation with Bess had entailed.
    He looked curiously at her. ‘I hardly dare enquire exactly what Bess said.’
    ‘Please do not.’ She noticed he played with the fine ruby ring on his right thumb. He wore other rings, but the ruby was truly magnificent.
    He smiled. ‘Then the matter is over and done with. I had gone so far as to have a contract drawn up, for believe me, Scrope is eager for the alliance. He is the son of one of my northern supporters, a man I like and respect, and . . . well, Ralph is waiting down in the courtyard, hoping to speak with you.’
    She drew back. ‘He is? But . . . I have barely spoken to him, Your Grace, and certainly have not intimated any wish to marry him.’
    ‘So he presumes?’
    ‘Unless my father really gave him permission, yes, he does.’
    ‘Do not worry, Cicely, for you have heard the last of such a match. I will not coerce you into Scrope’s bed.’
    ‘I want to marry for love,’ she found herself saying.
    ‘An ambition I can only respect. We all wish to marry for love, I think.’ He touched her hair again. ‘If you change your mind, or if there is ever a man to whom you give your heart, you have only to tell me. I may be many things, but I will never stand in the way of true love. Unless, of course, you tell me you want a hound like Henry Tudor.’
    ‘Never.’
    ‘Good.’
    He was an odd, rather exciting mixture of composure and unease. ‘You . . . are not at all what I expected,’ she said.
    ‘Expected? Did you not remember me?’
    ‘Not really. Oh, I did in a way, but not as clearly as Bess does.’ She lowered her eyes, wishing her sister’s name had not slipped from her lips again.
    ‘It has not pleased me to see you frightened of me. It was the same with your brother when I met him at Stony Stratford. It did not please me either that he is such an officious little prig, but we have the Woodvilles to thank for that as well.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I should not have said that about your brother.’
    ‘Why not? It is the truth. Dickon is far better.’
    ‘Oh, he is.’
    She had spoken of her brothers in the present tense, and so had he.
    ‘So, do I take it that you are no longer afraid of me? Or do you still imagine that because my body is not straight, my soul must be crooked? That I eat small children when I break my fast? That the only reason I would come here would be to seize you all and imprison you in a deep dungeon?’ He waved an arm to mock the shadows.
    ‘Why have you come?’
    He leaned back