Seducing Anne (18 page)

A few moments later, something was slid under her door.

Her eyebrows almost touched each other as she got up to fetch what was intruding on her bedchamber.

She picked up the folded parchment and gasped when she opened it.

Guy.

He wrote her something?

Dear lady,

Do not fret. I bring you good tidings of great joy . .
.

She had to laugh, even though his sense of humor was uncouth. This would be seen as sacrilegious—his using words from the story of Christ’s birth being announced to shepherds in the land on nearby hills. Still . . . She was laughing quite a bit.

I have survived Henry’s ire, and you, my little lavender, will continue on with a good life.

It has been decreed by the douche that I am to never speak to you without his authority granting permission on the matter. He did not, however, forbid me from writing to you, so for now, we must be in contact this way. All your correspondences will be safe with me, so do not censor your words, great lady. You will burn mine after reading, otherwise I will not send them to you.

If you see fit, please send me more French lavender so I can remember what it was like to be near you.

For now, it will have to suffice until I can persuade the king differently.

And so you do not think me a knave without a romantic ounce of blood in his body, I have written you a poem.

Au milieu du champs d'herbes longilignes

Se trouve la fleur mauve qui doit perdurer

Sa fragrance est cristalline,

Ses intentions immaculées

Tout ce qu'il Lui reste à faire est de la préserver

Pour qu'aucun homme ne puisse la piétiner

Ses pétales flottent au vent mais jamais ne se brisent

Grâce à Celui qui à l'abri l'a mise

Elle était plus honnête et plus estimée

Que toutes les dames qu'Il avait rencontré

Elle a su le contenter.

It is not much, but it is all I have when I ache to be near you again.

Your Sir

He had written in French about how she was the loveliest of flowers, never to be trampled upon, and how she was more dear than any woman ever could be.

Her heart pounded so hard, it almost made her feel a little light-headed.

She took a whiff of the parchment. If she could just smell his clean, citrus scent, maybe he would not feel so far away.

There was only a trace of his delicious smell, but not enough to help her feel better.

Anne spent the rest of the evening in bed, reading his note over and over, dreading when she released it into the flames to be consumed.

Tomorrow. She would turn it to ash tomorrow . . .

* * *

Anne was in a somber mood after burning that precious letter.

She wanted to pen him her own letter, but she was uncertain how to get it to him without the king finding out.

Her legs dragged as she headed out for the hunt.

Harry was full of excitement, talking to all of his friends, making them laugh.

She was glad of it. He was happy, which would most likely keep him off her and from interrogating her more about Guy or Wyatt.

She harrumphed. Wyatt . . .

When had she ever wanted that man? Not once had she desired him.

And now she wondered if she had truly ever desired Harry as well.

It was nowhere near the craving she had for Guy.

She approached her horse, patted its neck and whispered, “You will do well today, will you not? You have never let me down.”

She smiled because she was not going to use her palfrey. No, no. She would ride her destrier she had used to escape the grounds with Guy.

That seemed so frightfully long ago—the thought almost made her cold inside.

As she continued to stroke the black hair of her horse, so like her and Guy with its darkness and ease of being hidden in the shadows of night, she heard
his
voice.

Guy. He was to join the hunt?

And how did he have a horse of his own?

Her head whipped around until she found him.

He was staring right at her, smirking with a delicious, triumphant grin.

For a moment, she forgot she was amidst other nobility with idle tongues that would gossip—she stared right back, reflecting that mischievous grin.

Good God, he was gorgeous.

Had any man ever taken her breath away like he did?

She tried to suck in some air, but it was not a task easily done.

He nodded as if to say she needed to quit looking now. Why was it when he gave permission for her to do something, she liked it? But if Harry told her what to do, it rankled her more than any sore on her body could ever do. She could not hold back lately and was yelling right back in the king’s face most of the time.

He had to be taught it was not his duty to be a royal brat.

She took another shallow breath and motioned for one of the stewards to help her onto her horse.

Harry was saddling up himself.

A moment later, she was atop her ride, and once more, found her eyes on Moore.

Oh, how she loved to watch him mount a beast. There was this raw power in his movements she could not get enough of. And my God . . . Those thighs of his . . .

His movements were sensual. They were naughty. They were
forbidden
.

And she liked all of those things.

She licked her lips, pressed them together and walked her horse over to Harry.

He paid her no heed, so she took a spot behind him and his friends while they excluded her and chatted amicably.

They spoke of nothing of consequence.

Her mind wandered aimlessly, and of course, unbidden memories of Guy barraged her mind. He was under her skirts and doing unspeakable things to her most private of body parts. It made her pant.

Her body was overheating, and she did not want to be flushed and sweating, so she motioned for one of her hunting attendants to hand her the hawk she most prized.

She put on her leather glove, took her bird and spoke to her like an old friend. “You will do me proud as usual. I know you will. But your job today is to distract me by circling up in the Heavens, reminding me of what God has in mind for me. It is your charge to keep my mind in a lofty place where I can do the most good for my people.” She gave an air kiss and then sent it flying free.

It soared overhead, and she smiled with squinted eyes. The sun was bright today, and consequently, it was already hot.

Normally she was proud of her skills as a huntress, but today she could not concentrate knowing Guy was behind her somewhere.

Who was he talking to? And why was she not allowed to speak to him at all?

It seemed absurd that in a situation like this, she could not say one word to him.

You can ask Harry to reconsider for today, at least.

That thought was quickly crushed when she looked over her shoulder and spotted Moore speaking to Jane Seymour.

A thousand knives slit through her gut and her blood spurned hatred at that blonde woman, able to do whatever she liked—including talk to Guy.

Anne took off into a gallop, taking charge of the group and racing after a stag she saw up ahead.

“She has it!” Harry called out behind her—the pride was thick in his tone.

She cared not if he was proud or ashamed of her in this moment.

The deer veered off to the right, and Anne’s horse whinnied, then bucked for a moment.

She pulled the reins to the left to find another path her animal might like better, but once more, the beast reared up, and this time, she fell off.

“Damn you, Rigley!” This was a different horse from the one she fell off the day she met Guy. So why was this happening again? Why was she on her ass with dirt splattered on her dress? And this time for him to see it take place?

She rolled over to her right.

Before she could stand up and brush her dress off, she saw what had the horse spooked.

A snake—and it was looking straight at her, heading her way.

She scurried backward, using a crab-like crawl.

Her feet were refusing to let her stand and run.

She glanced around, and Harry had been pushing his horse so hard in the hunt, he had a ways before he could get back to her.

In the blink of an eye, Guy was off his horse and between her and the viper. He loosed his long hunting sword with the flick of his wrist, and the snake was paralyzed right behind the head with his sword pinning it in place.

She gasped, and an inexplicable heat ran down the entirety of her body. Her heart raced harder than it had when fear had struck her in place.

“Cursed fucking Adder!” Guy spat on the snake’s head, knelt down, pulled out his shorter hunting dagger and stabbed the snake twice more in the head, ensuring it expired.

He turned to her. “Are you all right, my lavender?” He said it quiet enough so only she could hear.

She nodded and barely blinked.

He strode right over to her, grabbed her hands and helped her up. In the next breath, he was inspecting her, circling her body to ensure there was no damage to her person.

She had to lean forward slightly so she could try and catch her breath.

“What in God’s name happened?” Harry bellowed, finally arriving.

“A venomous snake frightened Anne’s horse, and then it came after her once she was thrust to the ground,” Guy explained.

Harry’s wrath-filled eyes turned on her. “Are you able to continue?”

She squeezed her eyes shut so she would not cry. This was all he had to say to her? He did not ask if she was harmed, only if she could keep going.

She wanted to go back to the palace to hide away, but Guy was here, and if this was the closest she could be to him, she would stay. In addition, she was no coward.

“I am able,” was all she responded with.

Harry nodded, staying mounted.

Guy helped her onto his horse instead of her own.

The king gawked but did not protest.

Anne’s insides exploded with light and joy.

Guy was caring for her when even her own betrothed took no thought to do something as kind as this.

“This one likes to wander. Keep a firm grip on the mane with one hand, and then a sure grasp on the reins with the other,” Guy told her, then patted the horse so it would move away from him.

She could not stop glowing with a radiant smile.

Her eyes kept shifting over to him, taking her horse Rigley at hand.

This man was a master at everything—including God’s reckless creatures like Rigley.
And
Harry.

He had found a way to be there for her, even when he was on Harry’s list of enemies.

The rest of the ride was not as filled with glee, for Guy continued to talk to Jane Seymour at the back of the group. A few times he even spoke to Mary, Anne’s sister.

In those moments, she shattered inside and thought she might send her hawk to claw those women’s eyes out.

Harry was cutting into the hart on the ground he managed to capture.

Her hawk finally alighted on her attendant’s arm.

She was weary from these few hours of being in the sport. It was unlike her to feel so exhausted this early.

It would be dinnertime soon, but still . . . She was known for being able to keep pace with Harry all the day long when he hunted from sun up to well past sundown.

Something inside her felt in bad humour.

“Anne, are you in need of some refreshment?” Mary asked her, coming up to her side.

Guy’s horse that Anne sat atop scooted over a little.

“Guy just said to me—”

“You are too brazen of a whore to speak to that man!” Anne hissed at her sister, her face so hot it felt on fire. “And as long as you are bound to me by blood relation, you will keep your distance from him and me!”

Anne removed herself from her sister’s presence, setting herself at a better vantage point to watch the slaughter of the animal bleeding on the ground at Harry’s hands and weapons.

Something violent erupted in her thoughts, and for some awful reason she wished some of Mary and Jane’s blood could join this creature.

Her narrowed eyes cast over to Guy, who was looking straight at Anne while Mary spoke to him at his side.

Undoubtedly, she was reporting what Anne had said.

Well, that was none of Anne’s concern.

She squared her shoulders and went back to observing what Harry did best—dismantling God’s creations.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, she did not receive a letter from Guy, nor did she send him one herself.