Read Online The Winter Queen by Amanda Mccabe - Free Book Online Page A

does not signify. We should concentrate on your romance. There must be a way we can smuggle a message to him. Oh, here, put mistletoe in your bough! It is the most important element, otherwise the magic won’t work.’
    Rosamund laughed, taking the thick bunch of glossy mistletoe from Anne and threading it through the centre of the bough. Surely there was some kind of magic floating about in the winter air. She felt lighter already with Christmas here.
    Yet, strangely, it was not Richard’s blond visage she saw as she gazed at the mistletoe but a pair of dark eyes. A lean, powerful body sheathed in close-fitting velvet and leather flying across the glistening ice.
    â€˜Holly and ivy, box and bay,’ she whispered, ‘put in the house for Christmas Day.’
    There was a sudden commotion at the end of the gallery, a burst of activity as a group of men rushed inside, bringing in the cold of the day. Among them was the handsome young man who had winked at Anne the day before—and been soundly ignored.
    And there was also Anton Gustavson, his skates slung over his shoulder, black waves of hair escaping from his fine velvet cap. They were full of loud laughter, noisy joviality.
    The ladies all giggled, blushing prettily at the sight of them.
    As Rosamund feared she did too. She felt her cheeks go warm, despite the sudden rush of cold wind. She ducked her head over her work, but there in the pearly mistletoe berries she still saw Anton’s brown eyes, his teasing smile.
    â€˜Mistress Anne!’ one of the men said. Rosamund peeked up to find it was the winker. He was even more good-looking up close, with long, waving golden-brown hair and emerald-green eyes. He smiled at Anne flirtatiously, but Rosamund thought she saw a strange tension at the edges of his mouth, a quickly veiled flash in his eyes. Perhaps she was not the only one harbouring secret romances. ‘What do you do there?’
    Anne would not look at him; instead she stared down at her hands as they fussed with the ribbons. ‘Some of us must work, Lord Langley, and not go frolicking off ice-skating all day.’
    â€˜Oh aye, it looks arduous work indeed,’ Lord Langley answered, merrily undeterred. He sat down at the end of the table, fiddling with a bit of ivy. On his index finger flashed a gold signet-ring embossed with the phoenix crest of the Knighton family.
    Rosamund gasped. Anne’s admirer was the Earl of Langley. And not old and crabbed at all.
    She glanced at Anton, quite against her will; she didn’t want to look at him, to remember their wager and her own foolish thoughts of kissing boughs and ice-skating. But she still felt compelled to look, to see what he was doing.
    He stood by one of the windows, lounging casually against its carved frame as he watched his other companions laughing with the Marys. An amused half-smile curved his lips.
    Rosamund’s clasp tightened on her bough, and she had a sudden vision of standing with him beneath the green sphere, of gazing up at him, at those lips, longing to know what they would feel like on hers. She imagined touching his shoulders, heated, powerful muscles under fine velvet, sliding her hands down his chest as his lips lowered to hers…
    And then his smile widened, as if he knew her very thoughts. Rosamund caught her breath and stared back down at the table, her cheeks flaming even hotter.
    â€˜We were not merely skating, Mistress Anne,’ Anton said. ‘We were sent by the Queen to search for the finest Yule log to be found.’
    â€˜And did you discover one?’ Anne asked tartly, snatching the ivy from Lord Langley’s hand.
    He laughed, undeterred as he reached for a ribbon instead. ‘Not as yet, but we are going out again this afternoon. Nothing but the very best will do for the Queen’s Christmas—or that of her ladies.’
    â€˜You had best hurry, then, as Christmas Day is tomorrow.’
    â€˜Never fear, Mistress