Free Rose Bride by Elizabeth Moss Page A

name, and will tell you nothing more.’ Margerie put up her hood again. ‘Goodnight, Mistress Tyrell.’
    She watched as Susannah Tyrell turned and slowly returned the way she had come. After a moment, she hurried to Master Elton’s door and knocked. Her hand faltered, and she found herself wishing she too could run away down the stairs.
    What would he think of her, calling on him so late?
    Then she lifted her chin and knocked more loudly, three times, and heard movement within.
    What did it matter what he thought? It was rather too late to be worrying about her lost reputation now.
    The door opened cautiously. It was Master Elton in his sombre physician’s robe, belted at the waist, but with his dark hair dishevelled as though he had been asleep.
    His dark eyes met hers, widening slightly, and there was a sudden flare of desire in his face. Then it was gone, hidden behind that shuttered control as he bowed.
    ‘Mistress Croft,’ he said coolly, almost as though he had been expecting her. He raked down his untidy hair, then stepped aside for her to enter his room. ‘I take it your supply of my sleeping draught has run out?’
    ‘Forgive me,’ Margerie said as soon as he had shut the door behind her. ‘I should not have come. The hour is very late, I know.’
    His smile was dry as he turned to reach down a bottle from one of his high shelves. ‘There is not a doctor in the land who has not had his sleep disturbed by a patient. And for far less urgent a cause than yours. Please,’ he said, indicating a seat, ‘it will only take a few moments to prepare the medicament you require, then I shall escort you back to your chamber.’ He hesitated, looking round at her from under his lashes. There was something about his stillness that alarmed her. ‘If that is what you desire?’
    What she desired was to have his mouth against hers, Margerie thought longingly. But although she felt sure he was interested in her as a woman, Master Elton was nonetheless an honourable gentleman and not someone she would ever wish to drag into disgrace.
    ‘Yes,’ she told him firmly, and tried hard not to look at his mouth. ‘That is what I desire , sir.’

CHAPTER SIX
    Greenwich Palace, Summer 1536
    The courtiers had been gathered in the Great Hall at Greenwich Palace for almost an hour after the feast had finished, still with no sign of the royal couple and their entourage. The courtiers whispered to each other, fanning themselves in the heat, while the musicians stood bored and idle too, for they could not play until the king and his new queen had arrived.
    Another feast, Margerie thought wearily, uncomfortably warm in her heavy gown, and yet more festivities to celebrate the king’s recent nuptials. When would it end?
    The dark-clad seneschal, entering in great pomp and followed by a line of noble young knights and squires in royal livery, banged his staff of office on the ground three times.
    The Great Hall hushed with expectation.
    The king and queen were formally announced, before their courtly procession through the hall began, the royal company heading for the high dais at the far end.
    Dropping to her knees in a rustling whisper of silks and satins, along with the rest of the court, Margerie kept her head lowered as the royal couple approached, her hands clasped before her. She wished hard, prayed to heaven, willed it not to happen . . .
    But it appeared God was not listening.
    A pair of shoes stopped in front of her, shining and new-made for the precious feet they shod, richly buckled, undeniably his. Fear possessed her. Her breathing quickened and her nails bit into the flesh of her palms.
    Control yourself .
    Then he spoke her name and she had no choice but to look up, schooling herself to appear demure and submissive, not to give away by so much as a flicker of her eyelids how much she loathed him.
    ‘Your Majesty,’ she breathed, and bowed her head again in token of her utter obedience to his will.
    ‘Tell me, how is