actually transformed him for an instant, and Bridget caught a glimpse of the young man he must once have been before he began his career serving the House of Tudor. Rumour had it that he had been a mercenary soldier in Europe, although no one seemed to know very much about the details. He was a bit like Bridget in that regard, a virtual nobody who had, by some quirk of fate, ended up at court. Except that Thomas Cromwell did not look like the kind of man who ended up anywhere that he did not expressly wish to be. He was certainly a man of intrigue, and Bridget found herself oddly drawn to him.
A figure appeared behind him, and Cromwell broke eye contact. It was Will Redcliff and the Master Secretary was attending closely to what he had to say. He whispered something in answer to Will; it looked like he was issuing instructions, and then Will disappeared. Bridget made the sudden decision to follow him.
Making sure that Cromwell still had his attention diverted elsewhere, Bridget got up and made her way as quickly and quietly as she could to the back of the Hall. Feeling an unaccountable need to see Will, she exited the Hall and just caught the edge of his retreating back disappearing around a corner.
Quietly, Bridget trailed him through the palace and out into the cold night air. Once they got away from the immediate environs of York Place, it became very dark. There was no moon, and Bridget had to be especially careful where she was placing her feet. She had left in such a hurry that she had forgotten her cloak and soon her arms were a mass of goose bumps. She rubbed them vigorously and continued forward until she was grabbed from behind and a strong hand clamped over her mouth.
She felt her body pressed very firmly into the hard embrace of a man. He had one arm hooked tightly around her waist, so tightly that Bridget could barely move. “Do not scream,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. It was Will Redcliff.
He slowly removed his hand, and Bridget took a gulp of air. For a few moments, the only sound was their respective breathing, hers laboured, his slightly less so. Will still had her round the waist and he showed no signs of letting her go. “Now,” he said, his voice low, “why were you following me?”
“I saw you speaking to your master and I wondered where you might be going in such a hurry,” Bridget replied. Will said nothing; he did, however, loosen his grip on her waist. Bridget took the opportunity to slide away, but she found her back against a wall. Will was standing right in front of her and, even in the gloom, she could see his eyes boring into hers.
“Where I go in the service of my master does not concern you, Bridget,” he said evenly. “It is not your place to follow me. Your place is with the queen and the rest of her ladies in the Great Hall.”
Bridget replied almost without thinking. “Where you go may not concern me, but it may concern Her Majesty,” she said quickly. Her eyes had now fully adjusted to the dark and she saw Will smile.
“Oh really? Mistress Manning, do not tell me that you are becoming caught up in the machinations of the court? ’Tis a perilous thing to do. Best to remain as you are—an innocent.”
With that, he closed the gap between them and cupped her face in his surprisingly warm hands. Bridget’s whole body started to thrum. “I have wanted to do this ever since I first saw you,” he murmured before putting his lips to hers.
At first, the kiss was soft and undemanding, a slow, sweet exploration of her mouth. Then it changed and seemed to explode, and a sense of urgency swept over Bridget. She could not get enough of him, of his touch, of his body pressed against hers, the evidence of his desire hard against her stomach. She had been brought up to believe that this was a sin, that if she did this outside marriage she would go to Hell, but at that moment she did not care. The blood was hot in her veins and she felt gloriously,
A figure appeared behind him, and Cromwell broke eye contact. It was Will Redcliff and the Master Secretary was attending closely to what he had to say. He whispered something in answer to Will; it looked like he was issuing instructions, and then Will disappeared. Bridget made the sudden decision to follow him.
Making sure that Cromwell still had his attention diverted elsewhere, Bridget got up and made her way as quickly and quietly as she could to the back of the Hall. Feeling an unaccountable need to see Will, she exited the Hall and just caught the edge of his retreating back disappearing around a corner.
Quietly, Bridget trailed him through the palace and out into the cold night air. Once they got away from the immediate environs of York Place, it became very dark. There was no moon, and Bridget had to be especially careful where she was placing her feet. She had left in such a hurry that she had forgotten her cloak and soon her arms were a mass of goose bumps. She rubbed them vigorously and continued forward until she was grabbed from behind and a strong hand clamped over her mouth.
She felt her body pressed very firmly into the hard embrace of a man. He had one arm hooked tightly around her waist, so tightly that Bridget could barely move. “Do not scream,” he whispered, his breath hot in her ear. It was Will Redcliff.
He slowly removed his hand, and Bridget took a gulp of air. For a few moments, the only sound was their respective breathing, hers laboured, his slightly less so. Will still had her round the waist and he showed no signs of letting her go. “Now,” he said, his voice low, “why were you following me?”
“I saw you speaking to your master and I wondered where you might be going in such a hurry,” Bridget replied. Will said nothing; he did, however, loosen his grip on her waist. Bridget took the opportunity to slide away, but she found her back against a wall. Will was standing right in front of her and, even in the gloom, she could see his eyes boring into hers.
“Where I go in the service of my master does not concern you, Bridget,” he said evenly. “It is not your place to follow me. Your place is with the queen and the rest of her ladies in the Great Hall.”
Bridget replied almost without thinking. “Where you go may not concern me, but it may concern Her Majesty,” she said quickly. Her eyes had now fully adjusted to the dark and she saw Will smile.
“Oh really? Mistress Manning, do not tell me that you are becoming caught up in the machinations of the court? ’Tis a perilous thing to do. Best to remain as you are—an innocent.”
With that, he closed the gap between them and cupped her face in his surprisingly warm hands. Bridget’s whole body started to thrum. “I have wanted to do this ever since I first saw you,” he murmured before putting his lips to hers.
At first, the kiss was soft and undemanding, a slow, sweet exploration of her mouth. Then it changed and seemed to explode, and a sense of urgency swept over Bridget. She could not get enough of him, of his touch, of his body pressed against hers, the evidence of his desire hard against her stomach. She had been brought up to believe that this was a sin, that if she did this outside marriage she would go to Hell, but at that moment she did not care. The blood was hot in her veins and she felt gloriously,
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