Enough of these tales. I refuse to listen to any more of your nonsense.’
‘It is not nonsense, Margot. Watch your back, and have your darling Lottie guard you well.’
By way of reply Margot tugged his head down to hers and captured his mouth with her own in a long, demanding kiss, tasting him, bruising him, taunting him with her passion. ‘I fear no one, certainly not my mother. I am a Princess of the Blood!’ Yet there was a tremor in her voice as she issued these words, and Guise felt it.
Tenderly he asked, ‘Then why do you tremble? From love of me?’
‘Goodness, you have far too high an opinion of yourself, my lord.’
Margot’s anxiety to have him gone from her quarters was increasing by the minute for, despite her brave bluster, she was suddenly afraid, for her lover if not herself. Only a fool would not be. The tales of unexplained death and the possible role played in them by the Queen her mother were too commonplace to dismiss lightly.
Conceding to her anxiety, Guise pulled aside the tent flap to check the way was clear to make his escape, before returning swiftly to her embrace. ‘Would that I had the entire night to prove my love to you. Although now that you have the Queen’s ear, you could perhaps take the opportunity to persuade her to view me with a little more trust and benevolence.’
Margot pressed herself against his hard body as she kissed him farewell. ‘You overstate my influence. My power is not so great as you might imagine.’
‘That you hold over me could not be stronger. I am ever yours to command.’ As if to prove this, he captured her in his arms one last time, making her shiver with fresh desire.
‘You must go now. Quickly!’
It was several more long and dangerous moments before she could bear to let him go and Guise slipped away into the dusk. So absorbed were they in their love that neither noticed a slight movement among the sheltering trees beyond.
Later that evening, du Guast was combing and curling his master’s hair as the duke lounged on the great bed that almost filled his tent. Anjou insisted on looking his best, terrified of falling prey to the lice which were rife among the men. It was during these intimate moments when they were largely alone, save for a trusted few, that his favourite was able to exert most influence.
Du Guast would urge his royal master to be more forceful and less indolent, and frequently alert him to those who might wish to take advantage of his generosity. His arrogance was such that he sought to further his own ambitions as much as the duke’s, and observed the increasing resentment between the monarch and the heir to the throne with studied attention. He knew his master to be jealous of Guise, and fearful of his rival threat to the throne.
Tonight he suggested that the reason for the King’s presence at St Jean d’Angely was all the fault of Guise. ‘He is the one responsible for encouraging Charles to intrude upon your glory, by means of the love letters he writes to the Princess.’
Anjou did not doubt it. He succumbed readily to the charm of his favourites, and found this new friend particularly delightful. He was elegant and beautiful, intelligent and an aristocrat of distinction.
‘Are you suggesting that my sister has betrayed me to that knave? She has told him of my business, my private thoughts, and become his instrument?’
Du Guast feigned regret, knowing he must tread carefully around princely sensitivities. ‘I tremble to risk offence, for I know how you treasure your sister’s good will. And worship her beauty,’ he added, rather winsomely. ‘But I fear that may be so.’
‘Then I have been made a fool of by them both!’
‘Have you not noticed,’ Du Guast slyly remarked, ‘how it is always the duc de Guise who begs leave to protect and escort the Princess whenever she wishes to ride out and escape for a while the pestilential atmosphere of the camp?’
‘I know well enough how the man covets
‘It is not nonsense, Margot. Watch your back, and have your darling Lottie guard you well.’
By way of reply Margot tugged his head down to hers and captured his mouth with her own in a long, demanding kiss, tasting him, bruising him, taunting him with her passion. ‘I fear no one, certainly not my mother. I am a Princess of the Blood!’ Yet there was a tremor in her voice as she issued these words, and Guise felt it.
Tenderly he asked, ‘Then why do you tremble? From love of me?’
‘Goodness, you have far too high an opinion of yourself, my lord.’
Margot’s anxiety to have him gone from her quarters was increasing by the minute for, despite her brave bluster, she was suddenly afraid, for her lover if not herself. Only a fool would not be. The tales of unexplained death and the possible role played in them by the Queen her mother were too commonplace to dismiss lightly.
Conceding to her anxiety, Guise pulled aside the tent flap to check the way was clear to make his escape, before returning swiftly to her embrace. ‘Would that I had the entire night to prove my love to you. Although now that you have the Queen’s ear, you could perhaps take the opportunity to persuade her to view me with a little more trust and benevolence.’
Margot pressed herself against his hard body as she kissed him farewell. ‘You overstate my influence. My power is not so great as you might imagine.’
‘That you hold over me could not be stronger. I am ever yours to command.’ As if to prove this, he captured her in his arms one last time, making her shiver with fresh desire.
‘You must go now. Quickly!’
It was several more long and dangerous moments before she could bear to let him go and Guise slipped away into the dusk. So absorbed were they in their love that neither noticed a slight movement among the sheltering trees beyond.
Later that evening, du Guast was combing and curling his master’s hair as the duke lounged on the great bed that almost filled his tent. Anjou insisted on looking his best, terrified of falling prey to the lice which were rife among the men. It was during these intimate moments when they were largely alone, save for a trusted few, that his favourite was able to exert most influence.
Du Guast would urge his royal master to be more forceful and less indolent, and frequently alert him to those who might wish to take advantage of his generosity. His arrogance was such that he sought to further his own ambitions as much as the duke’s, and observed the increasing resentment between the monarch and the heir to the throne with studied attention. He knew his master to be jealous of Guise, and fearful of his rival threat to the throne.
Tonight he suggested that the reason for the King’s presence at St Jean d’Angely was all the fault of Guise. ‘He is the one responsible for encouraging Charles to intrude upon your glory, by means of the love letters he writes to the Princess.’
Anjou did not doubt it. He succumbed readily to the charm of his favourites, and found this new friend particularly delightful. He was elegant and beautiful, intelligent and an aristocrat of distinction.
‘Are you suggesting that my sister has betrayed me to that knave? She has told him of my business, my private thoughts, and become his instrument?’
Du Guast feigned regret, knowing he must tread carefully around princely sensitivities. ‘I tremble to risk offence, for I know how you treasure your sister’s good will. And worship her beauty,’ he added, rather winsomely. ‘But I fear that may be so.’
‘Then I have been made a fool of by them both!’
‘Have you not noticed,’ Du Guast slyly remarked, ‘how it is always the duc de Guise who begs leave to protect and escort the Princess whenever she wishes to ride out and escape for a while the pestilential atmosphere of the camp?’
‘I know well enough how the man covets
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