Owen Read Online Free

girl I knew in Normandy, the closest I have ever been to falling in love. I lost her to another through my indecision, only realising too late. I am not going to make that mistake again.
    Juliette sets down her empty goblet on the flagstone of the hearth and crosses over to me, taking my hand and pulling me over to the bed. I obey as if entranced, as she embraces me, slowly undresses me, then kisses me. The first of many kisses that winter night.

    * * *
    I wake alone, my mind a whirl of powerful, sensual images and serious consequences. I am sure it hasn’t been a dream. The fire in the hearth has long since turned to a pile of grey ash, yet there on the flagstones stand two goblets. On the table is the folded square of white linen with its proud red dragon, so carefully sewn. I pick it up and take it to the window to study it in the bright winter dawn. The craftsmanship is impressive. Juliette used red silk, with stitches so neat they are hard to see.
    I have to think about what I will say to Juliette when I see her next. I smile as I recall how I thought her so prim and proper, like a nun in the pristine white headscarf she wears in the nursery. I could not have been more wrong. Juliette planned the whole thing, knocking at my door at the perfect time. I have never been seduced before.
    I dress in my riding clothes and walk to the stables. Although I don’t own a horse, the late king’s horses are kept here at Windsor. They are officially the property of the new King Henry, although at barely one year old he has little use for them. I ride them as often as I wish, as the horses need regular exercise. I choose my favourite, a fine black gelding, and fit it with a bridle and saddle.
    The horse’s powerful hooves crunch rhythmically on the frosty turf as I canter across the open pastures of Windsor Park. The brisk ride helps clear my head. There are important decisions to be made, choices which could change my life for better or worse. The most pressing of these is to come to terms with what happened the previous night.
    There are no rules against relationships between household servants, as long as it does not compromise their work. That is the problem. As one of only two maids the queen chose to bring to England with her from France, some servants envy Juliette’s status within the royal household. It would be easier if she were older and less attractive. People like to make mischief and will imply I have abused my position to take advantage of a vulnerable young maiden.
    The other problem on my mind is the need to visit Duke Humphrey. I look up, trying to recall what snow clouds look like. The winter sky is clear and bright, a good omen, and I decide not to wait until he summons me. It has been some months since my last visit to London, twenty-five miles from Windsor. It is a cold ride in the middle of winter, yet it will show good faith.
    My clerk, Nathaniel, has drawn up a comprehensive list of visitors, detailing when they arrived and how long they stayed. The clerk has made a good impression with his attention to detail and understated manner. I showed his list of visitors to the queen, who agreed it should satisfy the duke’s curiosity.
    I slow my pace and ride around the perimeter of the castle, noting things that need repairing or attending to. Even though this is my morning off, I have so little life outside the household I am always working or thinking about work. My attention is drawn to two men with a wagon at the rear entrance to the castle kitchens. I keep my distance and see they are busy loading something into the back of the wagon, rather than unloading supplies.
    There is a furtive look about them which suggests they are up to no good. At last, it seems I could have the evidence to be rid of the bullying Samuel Cleaver. The trouble is it will be my word against that of the head cook, who would deny any involvement. Rather than let the men know I am on to them, I curse and ride away with yet another