TemptressofTime by Dee Brice Page B

for her, but his spies were everywhere, all
anxious to gain his favor with tales true or false. Depending on his mood and
who warmed his bed, those stories might lead him to imprison her or send her to
her death. If she died here , she might never return to her own time…or
could she?
    Shoving away unpleasant prospects, she met Adrian’s somewhat
befuddled eyes. “I would like to know what you think of…” Talk about digging
her own grave! Seizing the most common name of Henry’s six wives, she said,
“Queen Catherine.”
    “You would have me tread on dangerous ground, milady.” His
somber demeanor convinced her he was no boy, but a man who had matured in times
where a careless word could lead to torture and painful, gory death. Hanging
until not quite dead, followed by quartering and being dragged for the people
to jeer at being a noble’s ignoble fate for high treason. She had a vague
recollection of some lord or other suffering such a fate. Maybe more than one
had been hanged, then drawn and quartered—all dependent on the mood of the
monarch.
    “Not at all, my…Adrian. I only wonder how the people feel
about her.”
    “She is well-loved.” Taking her hand, raising it to his
lips, he pressed a lingering kiss to her palm.
    Shivery heat flowed to her breasts and pussy. Breathless,
she marveled at how different that caress felt. In her own time no man would
think to kiss her hand, never mind her palm. Regaining her breath and
composure, she figured Catherine of Aragon still played a role in Henry’s life.
Still favored or already set aside? Had Adrian prevaricated? Could Catherine
Howard grace the queen’s throne in this time? Had Adrian claimed her well-loved
because Diane might carry tales to the king? Tales that Henry might view as
treasonous? On a silent sigh, Diane let the questions go unvoiced.
    “As will you be well-loved if—when—you take me to your bed.”
His smile reappeared like sunshine breaking through heavy clouds.
    “I gave my promise to His Grace,” she reminded Adrian. An
odd pang of regret accompanied the words. Because she preferred the duke?
Regretted sending him away?
    “Although I hope to persuade you in my favor…” His
expression less confident, Adrian said, “There are ways—many equally satisfying
ways—to pleasure each other.”
    “Are there?” Goody, goody, goody. If he failed to
teach her a way she knew that he did not, she’d enjoy teaching him. After all,
the king himself had freed her to make choices. Why should she limit them to
what others deemed proper?
    “Indeed there are.” Tucking her had into his crooked elbow,
he led her inside then up the wide oak stairs to his own chamber door.
    “Is this wise, milord? What if the servants discover us?”
    “My closed door should prevent discovery.” He gave her a
considering look then said, “But I know a better place. Have Marget help you
out of your clothes. Everything except your chemise.”
    “It’s very early in the day for a nap, Adrian.”
    “Not, however, for a bath. Wear a cloak over your chemise
then insist she lead you to the bathhouse.”
    She laughed. “I think you have done this before. With Marget
perhaps?” Or would have done with her had she not escaped all those centuries
ago to her own time and life. Still…like Walker, Adrian seemed to remember
nothing of that other place, that other life. Either he suffered from the same
amnesia as Walker or both men were skillful actors.
    Maybe she’d ask Adrian what he remembered of their past. Oh
sure. And have him think her crazy or possessed. If he believed her
possessed, what might he do? Put her on the rack to force the devil from her?
While the church might not believe in witches, it did burn heretics.
    She’d worry about that later. Along with wondering why she
remembered their prior lives while they did not.
    “I do not play with servants, milady.”
    Good! He hadn’t in that previous life either. Points
in his favor, she supposed. “Then