Free The Hostage Queen by Freda Lightfoot Page A

child, you were born in an unhappy age.’
    But she remained determined to use this last unmarried daughter to bring another crown to the House of Valois, as well as peace to the realm, no matter at what cost to her own happiness.
    Until then, it would be Madame de Curton’s responsibility to keep the girl chaste. Considering Margot’s growing fascination for a certain chevalier, it was a task no one in their right mind would envy.
     
    Margot was thrilled when they received an invitation to visit her brother at the front, which meant she would also be able to see a certain chevalier. She guessed that Anjou was finding army life difficult. No doubt he missed his silken sheets, his warm, scented bedchamber, the court luxuries to which he was accustomed. He was not a natural soldier. He might enjoy the glory of victory but as lieutenant-general he was only in nominal command; Biron and Tavannes were the ones really responsible for the campaign.
    She easily persuaded her mother to accept and the necessary preparations were made, Catherine arranging to meet her favourite son at the Castle of Plessis-les-Tours, because the camp was some long distance from Paris. The court reached Tours in less than three days, where the King met his brother with cool indifference, making caustic remarks about where the true glory lay.
    Margot felt saddened to see her two brothers so at odds through foolish jealousy, but her concerns were of a more personal nature. She lived in fear of yet more marriage proposals as her love for the handsome Henri duc de Guise was stronger than ever. At least they were together again, albeit meeting in secret, and their lovemaking grew ever more dangerous and exciting.
    ‘Oh, how I have missed you,’ she cried, responding eagerly to his kisses.
    ‘And I you, my darling. Every day we are apart is a torment. Let me hold you, caress you. You are so very beautiful.’
    There was a desperation in their embraces as passion quickly ignited. How far dare she let him go? Margot wanted him badly, knew that he wanted her, but as always she drew back from the ultimate conclusion. His groan when she curbed his advances cut to the heart of her.
    ‘I cannot, I cannot. The risk is too great. They scour Christendom for a husband for me, and you are not even on the list.’
    ‘Then you must have Her Majesty rewrite the list, and set me at the top of it.’
    ‘What makes you imagine I would ever take you as a husband?’ she teased, looking up at him through her lashes. ‘Even if the Queen Mother approved, which you know she does not.’
    ‘You would have me tomorrow, Margot, and you know it. We are meant for each other, you and I.’
    ‘Oh, it is true,’ she cried, kissing him with great fervour. ‘I do still hope to win the Queen round to a marriage between us.’
    ‘Despite her plans to win you a crown?’ His gaze was both concerned and adoring, the trail of his fingers against her skin bewitching. How could she resist him?
    ‘Every failed proposal is a cause for jubilation, but we must at all times be discreet.’
     
    Keeping up appearances before the court was an endless concern for them both, as well as a source of some amusement. They might politely converse if others were present, or take part in some group sport, such as the crossbow, at which Margot excelled. But they were ever circumspect, anxious not to reveal their love by the smallest hint of a stray glance.
    Should their paths accidentally cross, she would feel his eyes upon her as she innocently walked by, pressing her lips together so that she would not laugh out loud and give the game away. Once or twice she risked lifting her eyes boldly to meet his gaze, and her cheeks would flame with the daring of it. Innocent as she still was, some instinct told her she could not hold back for much longer. She wanted him too much.
    Oh, how she loved simply to look at him.
    His dark eyes would crease softly at the corners whenever he smiled, and he would