Read Online The Forgotten Queen by D. L. Bogdan - Free Book Online Page A

sleeves to match Jamie, who met me with his bonnet in hand as he did whenever I was in his presence as a sign of respect. My heart stirred at the sight of him standing before me so noble and proud.
    I wore a crown, the crown of a queen. It was heavy on my head and I trembled as I reflected upon its significance. My father told me this was my destiny—my fate since birth. He knew it then and I knew it now. I stood straight under the weight of this crown, vowing even as I exchanged vows with my king that I would endeavor to be the greatest queen Scotland had ever known.
    The Archbishops of Glasgow and York officiated and we shared the Host at the Mass. I started at the trumpets that announced our union and blinked back tears when Jamie handed me the scepter. Holy oil anointed me then and with this ritual I truly became the Queen of Scots.
    Jamie wrapped his arm about my waist as we removed to the banquet at Holyrood House. “One of my favorite residences,” Jamie explained as I gazed at the castle towering before me. “I pray you will come to love it as I do.”
    “I love it already,” I said because it sounded so charming. And I was dazzled. But as I entered the great hall I grew more aware than ever that this was not my home. I will never see you again. My father’s words rang in my ears, as resonating as the church bells celebrating my presence.
    Jamie drew me from my wistful reflections by insisting that the gifts be given in my name. He poured my wine with his own hand, attending to my every need as a stream of gifts paraded before us. Goblets and bolts of fabric, jewels and caskets, trinkets and treasures the worth of which was beyond my conception.
    “Are you happy, little one?” Jamie asked me in his enchanting brogue. He began to fix our plate, making certain I was served first.
    “I am so happy, my lord,” I breathed. “But I am happiest knowing I have married the handsomest, most wonderful prince in Christendom!”
    He laughed, bringing my hand to his lips.
    We ate the splendid fare before us, served from fifty different platters. I could not contain my ravenous appetite and Jamie laughed as he watched me sample the different meats and puddings. He was quite restrained and ate sparingly.
    “You think me unbecoming eating this way,” I commented, flushing.
    “I think you are a growing girl,” he said in soft tones, fondness lighting his green eyes.
    The evening passed in a whirl. The English and Scots minstrels and musicians battled against each other, each in the hopes of outshining the other, and there was an underlying tension behind the seemingly good-natured competition. We danced till the soles of my feet ached and throbbed. My legs tingled and my face flushed from wine.
    At last the moment that held the court breathless with anticipation arrived. We were escorted to our wedding chamber. Separately the king and I were dressed in our shifts.
    “Your hands are cold, Your Grace,” my aunty Anne observed as she squeezed my icy fingers in hers. “You are afraid?”
    I had not allowed myself to think of this moment. Now that it had arrived my heart thudded against my ribs in a painful rhythm. I offered a small nod.
    “Have you been instructed on how best to please a man?” Lady Surrey asked.
    I shook my head. “My grandmother thought it sinful to discuss such things.”
    “A wonder King Henry was conceived at all,” Lady Surrey muttered with a smile. “In any case, it does not take much to please them—I daresay a man will infiltrate any hole available.” I flinched as dozens of scenarios presented themselves before my mind’s eye. “Just yield to their fancies, be sweet, and ever ready to serve.”
    “Don’t be afraid, Your Grace,” Aunty Anne instructed. “The pain does pass.”
    “There’s pain?” I asked, my throat constricting in panic.
    Aunty Anne’s eyes widened, as though she was fearful at revealing this unpleasant insight. She stroked my hair. “There is,” she informed