He turned to speak to Charles and she got a good look at his features, and for one brief moment her heart stood still. He had a harsh beauty set off by a faded scar that creased his cheek. His hair was swept back off his face in a neat queue tied with a length of black ribbon. It gleamed in the candlelight, burnished gold with streaks of dark and light. Flickering shadows from hundreds of tapers accentuated chiseled features: strong cheekbones, a firm jaw and a full, almost sinful-looking mouth. I wonder what color his eyes are?
She had almost reached Charles and she rushed the last few steps to greet him. He caught her and hugged her and bussed her cheek. “You’ve done us proud indeed this evening, Miss Mathews. And you are as pretty as the first day of summer.” She beamed with delight, his words making all her hard work worthwhile. He released her and removed his hat, then gave her an elegant bow. “As you can see, I’ve invited a friend. I pray you have room for one more. My dear, may I present to you a dashing fellow, both brave and bold, Captain Robert Nichols.”
He placed an arm around her shoulders and for some reason, the overly familiar public gesture made her feel slightly embarrassed. She fought the urge to shrug him off. The captain stepped forward. His face looked grim, as if he were in the presence of something distasteful. She flushed, surprised at her awkward reaction. What did she care what a disapproving stranger thought? Her life was full of them. Let him think what he pleased.
Unaccustomed modesty overcome, she greeted her new guest with a playful smile. “Welcome, Captain Nichols. It’s an honor to have you join us for an evening of celebration. Please treat our home as if it were your own.” She held out her hand, forcing him to kiss it.
He tucked the hat he was holding under his arm and took her dainty hand in his large one. Her heart beat violently in her chest. And then he bent to kiss it. His fingers were cool beneath her own and his breath warmed her skin as his lips brushed her knuckles. Two of his fingers lingered a moment, pressing the soft underside of her wrist. She shivered and pulled her hand away, filled with dangerous new sensations. He rose to his full height. A stray lock of hair had escaped its bounds, softening his features.
“It’s very kind of you, madam, to welcome a stranger so warmly.”
His rich voice was deep and mellow. She raised her eyes to his. He was regarding her intently. Riveted, she returned his searching gaze. There was something sad about him, and something frightening. Despite a reassuring air of competence and strength, he struck her as a troubled soul. His eyes were green. A haunting shade of olive-green with flecks of black and silver that captured and mesmerized. She imagined loneliness and sorrow and great pain hidden in their depths. She blinked and looked away. He was a very handsome man.
“Hope, my dear. We have duties to attend. It’s time you escort me through the salon to greet our other guests. Then everyone can relax and enjoy the evening.”
Released from whatever spell had bound her, she stepped back to the relative safety of Charles’s arms, for one wistful moment wishing she might be the virtuous seductress. The kind with whom men fell and stayed in love.
“Can you muddle about on your own for a space, Captain?”
“I expect I can manage it, Your Majesty.”
ROBERT WATCHED WITH cold admiration as his new friend the king took the arm of his beautiful courtesan. She wore a distinctive gown, with deep purple skirt and sleeves, white, flower-embroidered petticoats and black stomacher. It captured the eye and drew attention to her trim waist and the sway of her hips as she walked. Surprisingly, given who her lover was, the only ornaments she wore were a floral crown of willow, violets and ivy, with one errant green sprig trailing down her cheek, and a few stray flowers woven into her hair.
Hope Mathews. He’d heard of her. The orange girl who’d leapt from the stage and stormed the palace to become His Majesty’s “country miss.” She was finer than he had expected. Neither coarse nor vulgar, quite charming in fact, and a breathtaking natural beauty. With soft creamy skin, a full pouting mouth and a luxurious mass of rippling waist-length black hair, she had no need of enhancement, but it was those eyes that had stopped him dead in his tracks and held him captive. Arresting eyes full of secrets, glowing violet then blue, beneath full sweeping lashes.
He marveled at his own unaccustomed whimsy, but he’d always been fascinated by violet eyes, and true ones were exceedingly rare. He reminded himself that despite those delicate wrists and wounded eyes, she was no pure and innocent waif. She was a royal concubine, possibly more striking than her court-bred rival, and definitely fit for a king. Creatures such as she exuded a powerful sexual allure. They were meant to be enticing. Yet she looked like a wild thing sprung from the forest, her smile sparkled and enchanted like a warm summer’s night, and she smelled like spring. He hadn’t expected to be quite so…entranced.
She looked back at him from over her shoulder, as if she had heard his thoughts. A few sprigs of greenery escaped her crown and tangled in her hair. His breath quickened and he felt an unaccustomed twinge of longing. For a moment everything went still around him, and there was only him and the girl. He tilted his head in a slight bow and she answered with a sunny smile and the merry eyes of a mischievous child. He couldn’t help a slight chuckle. Whatever she was, the lass had lightened his spirit like nothing had done in a very long while. Definitely not an innocent waif, but perhaps a wayward elf.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROBERT COMMANDED A QUIET ALCOVE in a corner of the salon. It was a relief to leave the reception room behind him. He had no idea why any sane person would line a room from floor to ceiling with mirrors. When he first walked in, the whirl of gaudy colors and bewigged heads had left him feeling nauseous and faintly dizzy. He wondered how those who drank too much ever found the door.
The stir around the king had diminished somewhat. The courtiers had made their greetings, the king had accepted them, and now everyone seemed intent on enjoying themselves. Several sat at tables playing hazard and basset, and people streamed in and out of the dining room eating when and what they pleased. The Duke of Buckingham and the charming Mistress Mathews performed a skit in the salon. He thought it somewhat childish, but others seemed to find it uproariously funny. He hid his impatience. He didn’t like surprises and had yet to discern why he was here.
It was a pleasant surprise to see Elizabeth across the room, though. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left London close to a year ago. By the looks of it her husband was back in favor. He was deep in conversation with the king. She kept smiling and beckoning for him to join them, but Lord Rivers had a grip on her arm as strong as the one he used to keep on his drink. He looked up from his conversation from time to time, and his eyes held a warning and a possessive gleam. It was enjoyable to watch them. A touch on the arm, a whisper in the ear, private looks that spoke volumes; their intimacy was palpable. It warmed him to see it and it made him jealous. Is it Elizabeth I crave…or simply to feel something like that?
Yet on this strange night filled with laughter and music, old friends and old rivals, beautiful seductresses and whimsical kings, the room glowed with color and all that was in it came dancing to life. It almost felt as if he were creaking back to life. He grinned as he watched the king’s lovely courtesan, no longer impatient, for she was the enchantress who’d first cast the spell.
General Monk, the kingmaker who’d engineered Charles Stuart’s return to the throne, stepped forward to greet him.
“Sir Robert Nichols! What a pleasure it is to see you, sir! You’ve been far too scarce in London as of late.” They exchanged a hearty handshake. “Where have you been, Captain? I’ve been trying to find you.”
“I have… I had…a small estate in Nottinghamshire, sir. I’ve left the field of battle for fields of grain, and fighting armies for battling floods and heavy rains.”
“Ah! Indeed, sir. I know it well. One thinks that’s what one wants. Away from the smoke and thunder. At last a little peace. But one grows bored. There’s a longing. Something’s missing