Lady of the Roses by Sandra Worth Page A

center of the hall. “But, then, you seem to gain in beauty even as we gaze. Like a rose opening to the sun.”
    “You are mistaken, my lord,” I said as we moved to the music. “Perhaps you have partaken too much of the fine wine served tonight.”
    “’Tis not just my opinion, but that of many others. I am indeed fortunate to have partnered with you, for it seems half the hall wishes to dance with you.”
    “There is a shortage of ladies this evening, Your Grace.”
    “You are too modest.” He twirled me under his arm and I passed with ease around him, for he was a surprisingly graceful dancer despite his height and powerful build. “Are you enjoying the entertainment?”
    “’Tis royal enough,” I replied noncommittally, passing under his arm in the opposite direction.
    “You should. The festivities are for you, by my command.”
    “Not for the queen?”
    Aware he’d been reckless enough with his comments, he did not reply.
    As innocently as I could manage, I said, “You have been absent from court recently. I hope you were not indisposed?”
    One corner of his mouth lifted, and he gave a small laugh. “Not indisposed, and gone merely for a day. I had urgent business to attend out of town.”
    Aye, ambush and murder, I thought. “I trust it went well?”
    “Not as well as I had hoped. So you missed me? That is encouraging.”
    As I danced, my glance moved across the hall and caught the queen. She was watching us. “My lord, the queen’s eyes are on you. And there’s nothing encouraging in them.”
    He stiffened. Silently I rejoiced. In his fear of the queen lay my only protection, for I knew without a doubt that had I not been her ward, and had he not been her lover, the rake would have ravished me long before this. “I suggest we end this dance, as I am feeling quite dizzy of a sudden, Your Grace.”
    He escorted me back to my seat. “Fear not, my lady,” he said under his breath as we parted between a bow and a curtsey. “There will be other chances.”
    Late that night a page came to our door to inform me that the queen had summoned me to her apartments. It was after Vespers, and Ursula and I were both preparing for bed, but I dressed quickly, with some apprehension.
    “What would the queen wish with me at this late hour?” I fretted.
    “Maybe ’tis nothing, merely a whim,” she said, hoping to comfort me.
    “I hope it’s not jealousy over Somerset. I shall tell her the truth, then. Mayhap she’ll restrain him, and I shall be done with the matter.” Absorbed by my thoughts, I turned left out of my chamber and left again into the short, narrow passageway that opened into the main corridor. The hall was silent, empty, and dark, lit only by a single torch. I hurried along, but I never reached the main corridor, for Somerset leapt out of the shadows. Taken by surprise, I shrank back with a gasp. I didn’t like the look on his face.
    Suppressing my fear, I lifted my chin. “My lord Somerset, pray let me pass. The queen has sent for me.”
    He didn’t move. “It wasn’t the queen who sent for you, Isobel.” He bent his face down to my lips, and I smelled his wine-soaked breath.
    “My lord!” I cried, pushing him away.
    “Isobel, you grow lovelier every day. Court agrees with you. Come, my sweet, why do you play coy? I swear your mouth is made for love.”
    “I understand you not, my lord.”
    “I think you do.”
    In a tone of ice, I said, “My lord, your attention is most unwelcome. Surely you do not wish me to tell the queen that you accosted me thus? It would place you in a most difficult position. Now…let go of my arm.”
    He removed his hand. “Isobel, let’s stop these games. Be truthful with yourself. You have a passion for life. You dine with appetite, dance with exuberance—wait until you know of love! And let me be the one to teach you, my beauty! I vow you shall not tire of it—we’re made for one another, Isobel. Though you play the proper damsel, you’re as