Virginia Henley Read Online Free Page A

political, social and cultural affairs. Everybody who is anybody comes to Court for part of the year.”
    “Part of the year is fine, but ye should spend more time at yer home in Hertfordshire, living a normal life.”
    “But I’ve lived at Court since I was a child. I love the beautiful fashions, the dancing, the entertainments, moving from palace to palace. Court will give me the opportunity to make a great marriage. If I were stuck on a farm in the country I’d never get to meet the most eligible gentlemen in England.”
    “Oh, aye, we’re tripping over elegant young courtiers, but the queen is a selfish old woman. She’s madly jealous of other females’ youth and beauty and keeps ye all out of reach with her false reverence for spotless maidenhood. She demands that men pay homage to only her. The courtiers are her gentlemen. Elizabeth believes she owns them, heart and soul.”
    Catherine laughed with delight. “But that is what makes it all so much fun. The challenge of making one of the queen’s devoted gentlemen fall in love and completely lose his heart and soul to me is utterly irresistible.”
    Patrick, flanked by his faithful captain, covered the eight miles from Crichton to Edinburgh in less than an hour. Darkness covered the ancient city, but Hepburn, familiar with every wynd and alley, easily found his way to the stables of Holyrood Palace. A coin slipped to a groom who was an Elliot clansman assured the pair that their horses would be royally housed. They made their way to the kitchens at the rear of the palace and gained easy entrance. Lord Stewart’s face was as well known to the guards as his easy generosity, while Jock was a favorite among the kitchen wenches, who were eager to supply food and other favors to a man who wore the Hepburns’ famous horse-head crest on his doublet.
    The pair parted company as Patrick took a staircase leading to the upper reaches that housed the many suites of the courtiers. The flickering torches offered scant light, but he could have found his way blindfolded to the wing that held the private bedchambers of the queen’s ladies. He scratched on a paneled door and felt a stab of pleasure at how quickly it was opened.
    “Patrick! I expected you last night.” The tall blonde pulled him into the room, giving him no chance to escape, and quickly shut the door. Margretha, who had been only fifteen when she accompanied Queen Anne from Oslo, still had a fascinating Danish lilt in her voice after more than a decade at the Scottish Court.
    “Gretha, you know only unavoidable business would keep me from you.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her deeply.
    As she lifted her arms about his neck, her loose robe fell open, and when he pressed her against his powerful body she sighed with undisguised pleasure. “It’s been so long, Patrick.”
    Amused that she had been awaiting him almost nude, he teased, “Have you been undressed since last night in anticipation?”
    Her hand slid over his huge bulge. “Cocksure devil. I attended the queen all day.”
    “I brought you a present, but you’ll have to find it.”
    She squeezed his erection. “I think I did.”
    “Explore farther. Better yet, let’s explore each other.”
    His hands disappeared inside her robe to glide over her high, pointed breasts. He heard her gasp of pleasure as he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger to make it erect, then dipped his head to suck it into his mouth.
    Margretha forgot the present, forgot everything except the feel and taste and scent of the man whose foreplay rendered her limp with need. Hepburn was not only the largest male she had ever lain with; he was also the most satisfying lover she had ever had. With urgent hands she drew him toward the bed. “Hurry, Patrick!”
    “Hurry?” he puzzled, as she pushed him down and began to undress him. “There’s little pleasure in haste, Gretha. We have all night.” He shrugged from the doublet she had unfastened and