Read Online Rose Bride by Elizabeth Moss - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Moss
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knows that Wolf lied about his wife, and intends revenge. His Majesty is looking for some business that will send Wolf away from court, leaving his bride unprotected.’ Her voice shook, for she knew what danger she stood in simply by delivering such a message. ‘If any summons should come from the king, Wolf must ensure his bride’s safe return to Yorkshire, for His Majesty is unlikely to pursue her there.’
Hugh drew a sharp breath, his head close to hers. ‘I see.’ His face had hardened as he listened, but now he managed a terse smile. He laid a hand lightly on her arm. ‘I thank you for coming here tonight, I know it cannot have been easy. But there is a friend I need to consult on this matter. And at once. May I leave you here, Mistress Croft? Or do you require safe escort back to your chambers?’
Suddenly uncertain, Margerie met his earnest gaze. She heard the tower bell chime midnight. If she returned to the women’s quarters now, she might lie awake for hours, fearful of what might happen if she let herself fall asleep. For she had run out of her supply of sleeping draught, and without it, she knew her body capable of rising while she was still dreaming and wandering the palace in her nightgown. The shame of what she might do while in that dream-state filled her with horror.
‘No,’ she said, and smiled back at him, her manner equally terse. ‘I too have someone I must see before I sleep tonight.’
‘Then I shall bid you good night, mistress.’
Hugh Beaufort bowed, raising her hand to his lips, then strode away down the corridor, surprisingly graceful for one so tall.
She watched him go, then wished she had asked for his escort anyway. For now she was alone, Margerie became uncomfortably aware of that rustling sound again in the shadows. She turned, narrowing her eyes as she searched the torchlit corridor, then caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone was watching her!
Startled, and more than a little afraid, Margerie hurried towards the door in the alcove, hoping that Lord Carlyle would not be in his quarters. If she could make it look as though her errand there had indeed been to visit the nobleman, perhaps as his mistress . . .
But by a happy chance the door was already ajar. Instead of knocking, she opened it, meaning to slip inside and hide until the spy had gone.
The sight that greeted her took her breath away. A fair-haired woman, whom she did not recognise, was bent naked over a day-bed, with one naked man entering her vigorously from behind and another – Lord Carlyle, if she was not mistaken – thrusting into her mouth.
She gave a cry, stifling it with her hand, and stumbled back from the door. It swung closed as she hurried away, her cheeks hot. But even while her mind protested, she knew that the sight had aroused her.
Swiftly, she made her way towards the tower where Master Elton lodged, wondering if he would ever indulge in such decadent games. But no, the doctor was too controlled a gentleman. Though if he were ever to lose that control . . .
She shivered, a chill draught about her feet and ankles as she raised her skirts, climbing the unlit tower stairs to his room. Her footsteps echoed on the stone stairs, and once or twice she paused, frowning as she heard some faint noise below. But the darkness only mocked her and she carried on, keeping one hand cautiously on the wall for balance.
The narrow landing at the top was poorly lit, the one torch almost burnt down to its bracket. She hesitated, still sure someone was following her. It would be foolish to knock at Master Elton’s door if she were under scrutiny. Better to wait and see if anyone was coming up the stairs behind her . . .
She waited, holding her breath. Sure enough, a figure soon emerged from the entrance to the stairs, keeping to the shadows as though trying not to be seen. But it was a woman, not a man.
Margerie stared, almost outraged that she had been scared for nothing. ‘Who are
Hugh drew a sharp breath, his head close to hers. ‘I see.’ His face had hardened as he listened, but now he managed a terse smile. He laid a hand lightly on her arm. ‘I thank you for coming here tonight, I know it cannot have been easy. But there is a friend I need to consult on this matter. And at once. May I leave you here, Mistress Croft? Or do you require safe escort back to your chambers?’
Suddenly uncertain, Margerie met his earnest gaze. She heard the tower bell chime midnight. If she returned to the women’s quarters now, she might lie awake for hours, fearful of what might happen if she let herself fall asleep. For she had run out of her supply of sleeping draught, and without it, she knew her body capable of rising while she was still dreaming and wandering the palace in her nightgown. The shame of what she might do while in that dream-state filled her with horror.
‘No,’ she said, and smiled back at him, her manner equally terse. ‘I too have someone I must see before I sleep tonight.’
‘Then I shall bid you good night, mistress.’
Hugh Beaufort bowed, raising her hand to his lips, then strode away down the corridor, surprisingly graceful for one so tall.
She watched him go, then wished she had asked for his escort anyway. For now she was alone, Margerie became uncomfortably aware of that rustling sound again in the shadows. She turned, narrowing her eyes as she searched the torchlit corridor, then caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone was watching her!
Startled, and more than a little afraid, Margerie hurried towards the door in the alcove, hoping that Lord Carlyle would not be in his quarters. If she could make it look as though her errand there had indeed been to visit the nobleman, perhaps as his mistress . . .
But by a happy chance the door was already ajar. Instead of knocking, she opened it, meaning to slip inside and hide until the spy had gone.
The sight that greeted her took her breath away. A fair-haired woman, whom she did not recognise, was bent naked over a day-bed, with one naked man entering her vigorously from behind and another – Lord Carlyle, if she was not mistaken – thrusting into her mouth.
She gave a cry, stifling it with her hand, and stumbled back from the door. It swung closed as she hurried away, her cheeks hot. But even while her mind protested, she knew that the sight had aroused her.
Swiftly, she made her way towards the tower where Master Elton lodged, wondering if he would ever indulge in such decadent games. But no, the doctor was too controlled a gentleman. Though if he were ever to lose that control . . .
She shivered, a chill draught about her feet and ankles as she raised her skirts, climbing the unlit tower stairs to his room. Her footsteps echoed on the stone stairs, and once or twice she paused, frowning as she heard some faint noise below. But the darkness only mocked her and she carried on, keeping one hand cautiously on the wall for balance.
The narrow landing at the top was poorly lit, the one torch almost burnt down to its bracket. She hesitated, still sure someone was following her. It would be foolish to knock at Master Elton’s door if she were under scrutiny. Better to wait and see if anyone was coming up the stairs behind her . . .
She waited, holding her breath. Sure enough, a figure soon emerged from the entrance to the stairs, keeping to the shadows as though trying not to be seen. But it was a woman, not a man.
Margerie stared, almost outraged that she had been scared for nothing. ‘Who are
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