Free The King's Mistress by Terri Brisbin

her again.
    Marguerite crept from the bed on shaking legs and washed herself with the still-warm water in the basin. Her chemise was torn beyond use so she crawled into the bed naked, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. Her body felt strange, as though it was somehow different than it had been before. As she sought sleep, she thought on how her tactics had worked.
    She could deal with his anger. When he nearly forced himself on her, her anger helped her to face him unafraid. It was his gentleness that she feared.
    His gentleness would be her undoing.
    She would need to guard herself against that or she would truly be lost.

Chapter Seven
    O rrick was gone from the keep and the village the next morning when she awoke. Edmee told her that he traveled to the abbey and might be gone for several days.
    Marguerite rose and washed and dressed with the help of her servant and then asked for a tray to be brought. She did not want to face his people this morn, especially not that rude Scot or her mother-by-marriage. What she wanted to do was walk outside.
    The window seat was a comfortable place now that the morning sun shone down through the window and warmed the alcove and cushion. Peering out the window, she watched as the yard came alive with people. Servants carried on in their duties and the gates of Silloth were open to visitors. If people could come and go, then there was a way to send a message south. Deciding on her course of action, Marguerite told Edmee to find parchment and ink for her to use.
    She surprised herself by finishing all of the foodon the tray. She’d expected to be tired this morning and not have an appetite at all. Ah, well, she had survived the night and submitted to Lord Orrick’s attentions. Now, with him away from Silloth, she would have time to herself. Time to send a message to Henry and ask for his forgiveness once more.
    Taking the quill and sharpening it, she composed the letter to him in her thoughts first. She detailed the horrors of the journey there and then the meanness of this keep and the surrounding lands. Marguerite revealed the lack of the amenities and comforts and entertainments that she was accustomed to in her life with him.
    Dipping her quill into the ink once more, Marguerite began the more personal part of the letter, the part that told of how she had submitted to Lord Orrick’s attentions and how it had broken her heart to be touched by any man other than Henry. She promised that, though her body had been taken against her will, her heart and love remained only his. Although she had clearly embellished some of her account, she felt in her soul that she did still belong to Henry. Then Orrick’s heated words came back to her— You are mine now… I will be the only man you think of in this bed.
    Her heart protested his claim, but she knew that when he softened his assault, he had commanded her body in a way that frightened her. She had not thought of Henry while Orrick took her. She had thought of nothing. She had only felt. A shudder wracked her body as she realized that her reaction had been worse than simply not thinking of Henry.This man had pushed all thought, all control from her mind.
    Putting the quill down on the table, she pressed her hands to her eyes and thought back to the time last year when she had first voiced her displeasure to Henry over her meaning to him. Oh, how she wished she had never demanded more of him. She wished she could go back and change it, change the complaints she gave and change how she told him of her pregnancy.
    All she could do now was make him understand that she repented of her haughtiness and naive behavior. It took her a few hours but when she finished she was quite pleased with the results—two letters written to her uncle and a friend at court, each with a copy of the letter to Henry enclosed. She dare not try to have anything delivered directly to the king from here, so she sent them to two people she knew