The King's Mistress Read Free Page B

from speaking of her. He had listened to the tales since his arrival; indeed he could hear the accolades in his mind even now.
    She was beautiful. Her long, rich golden-brown hair reached nigh to the floor and flowed in generous curls over her lushly endowed body. Poems had been written about her gloriously blue eyes and sculpted red lips.
    She was well educated—her family had provided the most learned tutors of the day—and she could speak most of the languages of the continent andcould read and write in at least five, including Latin and Greek.
    She was well pedigreed—in spite of her illegitimacy, her bloodlines reached back to Charlemagne and the great Frankish kings. She had connections to most of the royal families in the Christian world on the continent of Europe.
    And she was the king’s whore.
    Orrick sought out the window in his chamber. Pushing it open he observed the activity beneath him in the yard. Enjoying the familiar frenzy, he breathed in deeply and tried to allow the coolness of the breezes to soothe his concern. He wished he could talk this over with someone, but there was no one he could trust with his doubts over this marriage. There was so much more to this than a simple agreement and an order of the king. Was he being humiliated for being only an English nobleman and not one of the king’s favorites? Had his father or mother sinned against the Plantagenets and he would bear the cost of it now?
    He planned to do nothing here in the severe scrutiny of the court other than accept Marguerite as his wife and take her back to his lands. Any problems between them would be worked out there, where no one questioned his authority or power. No one except the woman who pushed her way into his chambers now.
    â€œHave you met her yet? Has she been presented to you?” His mother had followed him to Woodstock as he had expected but her presence here was nothelping him. Instead her questions and veiled comments caused him more concern.
    â€œI meet her in less than an hour, Mother,” he said as he turned away from the window to face her. And to clear up any doubts, he continued. “Alone.”
    Orrick watched as his mother did momentary battle with the words she wished to say. Her face, not bothered yet by the wrinkles of life, tightened in worry. When had her pale blond hair begun to change to gray? She still had the full, robust figure he’d always known, but she was beginning to favor her mother in appearance. Now that he looked closer, Orrick could see the softening of her green eyes.
    â€œAlone? But your family and hers should be present at such an important meeting. I must—”
    â€œYou must do nothing, Mother. I will meet Marguerite alone first and then you may attend the ceremony with the others.” His words sounded harsh, but he must speak sternly to her or she ignored him and went on her own merry way.
    She looked as though she would argue for a moment and then a different expression filled her eyes. He saw the tears gathering and, for once, he knew these were not just a ploy to gain his sympathy or support. Her words confirmed it.
    â€œI only wish your father could be here to see this. He had hoped you would consider marriage years ago, but…” Her words drifted off.
    Orrick regretted his tone. “I delayed and now he will not see it. I am sorry for that, as well.” He left the window and walked closer to her.
    â€œThings will be different,” she whispered.
    He heard the fear in her voice. She would lose her standing with the arrival of his wife. Instead of being lady of the keep, vital to its efficiency and safety, she would now be an interested onlooker with no power or control that he or his wife did not grant her. Did she realize that she had given him the opportunity he had searched for to speak on this issue before his marriage?
    â€œMother,” he began, unsure of his words. “After the marriage…”
    â€œIf