Free The King's Courtesan by Judith James Page A

whom men fel and stayed in love.
    “Can you muddle about on your own for a space, Captain?”
    “I expect I can manage it, Your Majesty.” ROBERT WATCHED WITH cold admiration as his new friend the king took the arm of his beautiful courtesan. She wore a distinctive gown, with deep purple skirt and sleeves, white, flower-embroidered petticoats and black stomacher.
    It captured the eye and drew attention to her trim waist and the sway of her hips as she walked. Surprisingly, given who her lover was, the only ornaments she wore were a floral crown of wil ow, violets and ivy, with one errant green sprig trailing down her cheek, and a few stray flowers woven into her hair.
    Hope Mathews. He’d heard of her. The orange girl who’d leapt from the stage and stormed the palace to become His Majesty’s “country miss.” She was finer than he had expected. Neither coarse nor vulgar, quite charming in fact, and a breathtaking natural beauty. With soft creamy skin, a ful pouting mouth and a luxurious mass of rippling waist-length black hair, she had no need of enhancement, but it was those eyes that had stopped him dead in his tracks and held him captive. Arresting eyes ful of secrets, glowing violet then blue, beneath ful sweeping lashes.
    He marveled at his own unaccustomed whimsy, but he’d always been fascinated by violet eyes, and true ones were exceedingly rare. He reminded himself that despite those delicate wrists and wounded eyes, she was no pure and innocent waif. She was a royal concubine, possibly more striking than her court-bred rival, and definitely fit for a king.
    Creatures such as she exuded a powerful sexual al ure.
    They were meant to be enticing. Yet she looked like a wild thing sprung from the forest, her smile sparkled and enchanted like a warm summer’s night, and she smel ed like spring. He hadn’t expected to be quite so…entranced.
    She looked back at him from over her shoulder, as if she had heard his thoughts. A few sprigs of greenery escaped her crown and tangled in her hair. His breath quickened and he felt an unaccustomed twinge of longing. For a moment everything went stil around him, and there was only him and the girl. He tilted his head in a slight bow and she answered with a sunny smile and the merry eyes of a mischievous child. He couldn’t help a slight chuckle.
    Whatever she was, the lass had lightened his spirit like nothing had done in a very long while. Definitely not an innocent waif, but perhaps a wayward elf.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    ROBERT COMMANDED A QUIET ALCOVE in a corner of the salon. It was a relief to leave the reception room behind him. He had no idea why any sane person would line a room from floor to ceiling with mirrors. When he first walked in, the whirl of gaudy colors and bewigged heads had left him feeling nauseous and faintly dizzy. He wondered how those who drank too much ever found the door.
    The stir around the king had diminished somewhat. The courtiers had made their greetings, the king had accepted them, and now everyone seemed intent on enjoying themselves. Several sat at tables playing hazard and basset, and people streamed in and out of the dining room eating when and what they pleased. The Duke of Buckingham and the charming Mistress Mathews performed a skit in the salon. He thought it somewhat childish, but others seemed to find it uproariously funny. He hid his impatience. He didn’t like surprises and had yet to discern why he was here.
    It was a pleasant surprise to see Elizabeth across the room, though. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left London close to a year ago. By the looks of it her husband was back in favor. He was deep in conversation with the king.
    She kept smiling and beckoning for him to join them, but Lord Rivers had a grip on her arm as strong as the one he used to keep on his drink. He looked up from his conversation from time to time, and his eyes held a warning and a possessive gleam. It was enjoyable to watch them. A touch on the arm, a