Free Elizabeth: The Golden Age by TASHA ALEXANDER

saffron.
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    At the far end of the room, Bess faced Raleigh. “The pirate is not too bored by the vanities of the court, I hope,” Bess said, eyes sparkling, lips drawn in a winsome smile. “A simple sailor, dazzled by the bright lights,” he replied, the ladies surrounding him all but sighing over his every word. He showed no displeasure at their attention but gave no indication of disappointment when Bess drew him farther away. “If you can bring yourself to leave the dazzle of the bright lights for a moment—”
    “Drawn away by the brightest light of all,” he said, catching her gaze, holding it.
    Bess’s cheeks flushed dark as claret as he spoke, and her reply came too quick. “That can only mean the queen.”
    “I don’t presume to raise my eyes so high.” He turned to the queen, and with a wicked smile across his face, bowed low.
    “It seems you’ve presumed after all,” Bess said.
    He stepped closer to her. “It seems you’re determined to think the worst of me.”
    “Tell me what it is you really want.” Her voice was soft, intimate, bright.
    “What every man wants. Money. Fame. Love.”
    “In that order?” she asked, looking up at him through golden eyelashes.
    “Each leads to the next,” he said. “The money will buy and equip ships for a return voyage to the New World. The success of my infant colony there will make me famous. The fame will bring me love.”
    “It seems rather a long way round,” Bess said.
    “There are benefits along the way. It is something, after all, to take a blank on the map and build there a shining city.” There could be no question of his enthusiasm; his entire body radiated it, pulsing with energy.
    “Which you will no doubt name after yourself.” Her tone teased.
    He smiled. “No doubt.”
    Bess paused, considered. “Well, then. I am answered.”
    “May I ask a question in return?”
    “Of course,” she said. “How am I to win the queen’s favor?”
    “Why should I tell you that, sir?” She could not help flirting with him; he was far too charming, far too good-looking.
    “I’ve little enough to offer, I know. But whatever I have to give—ask, and it’s yours.”
    Bess thought for a moment, studying his face, the creases between his brows as he looked intently back at her. “My advice to you is say what you mean to say as plainly as possible. All men flatter the queen in the hope of advancement. Pay her the compliment of truth.” She offered her hand, which he took and kissed at a pace so leisurely that it made all the skin on her body crave more of his touch.
    “I don’t even know your name,” he said.
    “Elizabeth Throckmorton.”
    “A second Elizabeth.”
    “Everyone calls me Bess.” She looked away, suddenly self-conscious, curtsied to him and returned to the queen. Halfway there, she turned back. He was staring after her.
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    “What have you to tell me, Bess?” the queen asked when she reached the high table. “What have you learned about our puddle man?”
    “He is... magnetic, Majesty. Mesmerizing. Handsome.” She smiled, leaned close and whispered. “His breath is the sweetest I’ve smelled.”
    “High praise,” Elizabeth said. “I’m pleased.” She would encourage the girl’s friendship with him, if only to keep him close. She had not expected to find him so fascinating. The court had long been needing a new bright spot, and she was delighted to have found someone who might be a suitable candidate.
    Bess slipped back into her seat, and the queen, who had long since finished eating, whispered in German to the archduke, who smiled in response. Silence fell over the room as she rose from her chair. “His Highness the archduke informs me that my charms overwhelm him. He will retire to his private quarters to rest.”
    A swell of laughter filled the room and drew looks of disgust from Don Guerau. The archduke swallowed the last bite of custard, stood, and bowed solemnly to the queen before departing