dying of thirst, then held it out for her to refill.
“I assume the betrothal ceremony is over,” she said.
“’Tis not yet started. I left the hall when the closeness of the crowd became overbearing. No one will miss me.”
Lucinda didn’t agree. A man who’d ridden in the third tier of nobles in a royal procession would certainly be missed, and his lack of attendance commented upon.
“You should return to the hall for the ceremony, if naught else,” she told him. “Should someone wish you ill, and whisper into the king’s ear, you will suffer the consequences.”
He groaned and laid his head back on his shoulders,then stretched his neck from side to side. She knew how to ease his pain.
“Sit in the chair,” she ordered, and to her amazement he gave no argument.
The moment she touched him, he tensed. So did she. Quicksilver heat rushed through her limbs and flared in her nether regions. Putting her hands on a man’s neck should not affect her so. No matter how warm, how thick, how muscled.
She determinedly regained her composure. “I have not the hand’s span or strength to strangle you. Be at ease.”
Richard tried, but the feel of her fingers kneading at the knots in his neck was nearly too much to bear. Aye, the pain in his neck succumbed to her manipulations, but another pain seized him. He highly doubted she would be willing to massage that pain, too.
He’d left the hall when the crowd had closed in around him and the air grew stale and unbreathable. Coming back here had seemed such a good idea, but he’d not counted on Lucinda having her sweet way with his neck.
Her thumb pushed into the worst of the knots. His groan of undiluted pleasure made her laugh lightly. A dainty, musical sound. She worked without comment, and he allowed her to continue far beyond necessary.
Lucinda was right He should go back to the hall, for more reason than the one she’d stated.
He’d dismissed the guard. If he went back, he must take his charges with him. He couldn’t leave them vulnerable, especially not after the comments he’d heard today from some of Basil’s victims. He doubtedthat any of them would dare take action while Lucinda and Philip were under Wilmont’s care, but he wouldn’t take the chance.
Richard removed Lucinda’s hands from his neck. “Would you and Philip care to see the betrothal ceremony?”
Lucinda wasn’t interested in the ceremony, but she would love the chance to escape the confines of Wilmont’s chambers.
“You would take us?” she asked, incredulous that Richard offered, considering his insistence on keeping her and Philip confined and guarded.
“I would not ask had I not meant to.”
She looked down at her gown. “Neither Philip nor I have garments suitable for so grand an occasion.”
“We will keep to the shadows. The crowd’s attention will be on the king and princess, not on us.”
Lucinda wasn’t so sure, but that wouldn’t stop her from going. She woke Philip and made them both as presentable as possible.
They made slow progress during the walk from the palace to the hall. Many of the entertainers she’d seen from the bedchamber window still lingered to ply their trade for the city folk not allowed inside the hall with the nobles. When Philip complained that he couldn’t see around the gathered crowd, Richard hoisted the boy onto his shoulders.
They entered Westminster Hall just as King Henry called for silence so the ceremony could begin. With his hand on her elbow, Richard guided her to a spot along the wall that offered a fairly unobstructed view of the raised dais at the far end of the hall.
The nobles had spared no expense for their court finery. Highly decorative embroidery, worked in goldor silver or bright hues, in patterns she’d never seen before, trimmed dalmaticas and gowns of silk or tightly woven linen. Some smiled in obvious delight with the king’s political move, others frowned in deep disapproval.
The betrothal of Princess
“I assume the betrothal ceremony is over,” she said.
“’Tis not yet started. I left the hall when the closeness of the crowd became overbearing. No one will miss me.”
Lucinda didn’t agree. A man who’d ridden in the third tier of nobles in a royal procession would certainly be missed, and his lack of attendance commented upon.
“You should return to the hall for the ceremony, if naught else,” she told him. “Should someone wish you ill, and whisper into the king’s ear, you will suffer the consequences.”
He groaned and laid his head back on his shoulders,then stretched his neck from side to side. She knew how to ease his pain.
“Sit in the chair,” she ordered, and to her amazement he gave no argument.
The moment she touched him, he tensed. So did she. Quicksilver heat rushed through her limbs and flared in her nether regions. Putting her hands on a man’s neck should not affect her so. No matter how warm, how thick, how muscled.
She determinedly regained her composure. “I have not the hand’s span or strength to strangle you. Be at ease.”
Richard tried, but the feel of her fingers kneading at the knots in his neck was nearly too much to bear. Aye, the pain in his neck succumbed to her manipulations, but another pain seized him. He highly doubted she would be willing to massage that pain, too.
He’d left the hall when the crowd had closed in around him and the air grew stale and unbreathable. Coming back here had seemed such a good idea, but he’d not counted on Lucinda having her sweet way with his neck.
Her thumb pushed into the worst of the knots. His groan of undiluted pleasure made her laugh lightly. A dainty, musical sound. She worked without comment, and he allowed her to continue far beyond necessary.
Lucinda was right He should go back to the hall, for more reason than the one she’d stated.
He’d dismissed the guard. If he went back, he must take his charges with him. He couldn’t leave them vulnerable, especially not after the comments he’d heard today from some of Basil’s victims. He doubtedthat any of them would dare take action while Lucinda and Philip were under Wilmont’s care, but he wouldn’t take the chance.
Richard removed Lucinda’s hands from his neck. “Would you and Philip care to see the betrothal ceremony?”
Lucinda wasn’t interested in the ceremony, but she would love the chance to escape the confines of Wilmont’s chambers.
“You would take us?” she asked, incredulous that Richard offered, considering his insistence on keeping her and Philip confined and guarded.
“I would not ask had I not meant to.”
She looked down at her gown. “Neither Philip nor I have garments suitable for so grand an occasion.”
“We will keep to the shadows. The crowd’s attention will be on the king and princess, not on us.”
Lucinda wasn’t so sure, but that wouldn’t stop her from going. She woke Philip and made them both as presentable as possible.
They made slow progress during the walk from the palace to the hall. Many of the entertainers she’d seen from the bedchamber window still lingered to ply their trade for the city folk not allowed inside the hall with the nobles. When Philip complained that he couldn’t see around the gathered crowd, Richard hoisted the boy onto his shoulders.
They entered Westminster Hall just as King Henry called for silence so the ceremony could begin. With his hand on her elbow, Richard guided her to a spot along the wall that offered a fairly unobstructed view of the raised dais at the far end of the hall.
The nobles had spared no expense for their court finery. Highly decorative embroidery, worked in goldor silver or bright hues, in patterns she’d never seen before, trimmed dalmaticas and gowns of silk or tightly woven linen. Some smiled in obvious delight with the king’s political move, others frowned in deep disapproval.
The betrothal of Princess
Similar Books
