Free The Forbidden Queen by Anne O'Brien Page B

occasion.’
    ‘Where is the gift I sent you?’ he demanded.
    I shook my head in incomprehension. Seeing it, Henry condescended to address me in fluent court Latin. ‘I thought you might have worn the brooch,
Mademoiselle
.’ A rank chill drew all colour from his tone.
    ‘Which b-brooch, my lord?’ I stammered.
    ‘I sent you a brooch as a token of my regard. A lozenge with a fleur-de-lys set in gold with rubies and amethysts.’
    ‘I did not receive it, my lord.’
    The frown deepened. ‘It was a costly item. A hundred thousand ecus, as I recall.’
    What could I say? ‘I do not have it, my lord. Perhaps it was lost.’
    ‘As you say. Perhaps it fell into the hands of my enemies. I expect it graces the war coffers of the Dauphinists, your brother’s misguided supporters who would fight against me.’
    ‘So I expect, my lord.’
    It was a strangely unsettling conversation, leaving me with the thought that it was the value of the lost gift that concerned him more than the failure of it to reach me and give me pleasure. The English King was obviously displeased. I risked a glance, wondering what he would say next, but the matter of jewellery had been abandoned.
    ‘I have been waiting for you all my life, Katherine. It is my intention to wed you,’ he announced with cool and precise diction. ‘You will be my wife.’
    He did not ask if I would be willing. We both knewI would follow the dictates of my family. But still I responded from my heart.
    ‘Yes, my lord. And I would wish it too.’
    And as he raised my hand to his lips, in a neat gesture of respect, Henry smiled at me at last, a smile such as a man might use towards the woman he had an admiration for, a woman he might hold in some affection. A woman, I thought, who he might actually come to love. The austere planes of his face softened, his eyes gentled. In that moment his simple acceptance of me overwhelmed me and I sank into admiration for this beautiful man. I returned his smile, my cheeks still flaming with colour.
    ‘Katherine,’ he murmured. His English pronunciation made of it a caress.
    ‘Yes, my lord?’
    He is not harsh, I thought, seduced by the power of his proximity, the allure of his direct gaze, he is not cold. He is handsome and potent and he wants me as his wife. I was, I decided, sliding into love with him, so easily, and when Henry kissed my cheek again, and then the palm of my right hand, my heart leapt with joy, imagining the picture we must present to our noble onlookers, the King of England treating me, the youngest of the Valois daughters, with such gallantry.
    ‘I must send you another jewel,’ he said.
    ‘And I will take great care of it,’ I replied.
    A sudden outburst of animal temper thrust between us, and we turned to where the Valois leopard bared itsfangs at the English hound that now lunged, barking furiously, drowning out any stilted conversation between their owners. I flinched away, but Henry abandoned me and strode forward.
    ‘Take them out!’ he snapped, his curt English harsh with irritation. ‘Who in their right minds would bring a hunting cat to a formal negotiating table? That is the end of proceedings for today. We will begin tomorrow at dawn, with no distractions of any nature.’
    Whether we fully understood or not, the meaning was clear. Henry bowed with magnificent condescension and strode from the pavilion, followed by Warwick and the recalcitrant hound. But my lord of Bedford stayed behind and walked towards me.
    ‘There is nothing to fear, my lady,’ he said softly in French.
    I did not know whether he meant from the animals or from his brother.
    ‘Thank you, my lord.’ I said. And I meant it. His assurance was a soothing gesture after Henry’s abrupt departure.
    Thus my wooing at Meulan left me in a muddle of heaving emotion. Here was a man who did not dislike me, who would make me Queen of England. Could he perhaps come to love me? Only time would tell. If I was to be the prize to draw Henry