Heart of Gold by May McGoldrick Page A

down with a thunderous bang on the unsuspecting moth. Lifting the lifeless insect by one shattered wing, Sir Thomas inspected the creature carefully. Then, with an expression of clear disdain, he dropped the moth’s carcass into the flame, watching with renewed interest as it flared and sizzled before crumbling to ash.
    Elizabeth stepped closer to the circle of light.
    Sir Thomas’s eyes darted toward her, and Elizabeth saw him master a quick look of fear that flashed across his face as he peered into the darkness at the Scottish attire.
    For ten years Thomas Boleyn had been working to drive a stake into the heart of the Scottish and French alliance. Learning his craft under the Tudor kings, Sir Thomas had found that the handshakes of diplomacy were rarely effective without the sharp edge of a dagger visible in the other hand. Indeed, his position had often called for duplicity and ruthlessness, and Sir Thomas had long ago proved himself a master of the craft. But as a result, Thomas Boleyn was a man with enemies. Deadly enemies.
    Elizabeth watched his hand go directly to his waist and to the short sword she knew he would be wearing.
    “Who is it, there? And what’s your business with me?” His tone was sharp and commanding, his face now hardened and bloodless.
    “It is I, Father.” Elizabeth watched the confusion muddle his stern expression. “It is Elizabeth.”
    Sir Thomas sat back in his chair and glared across the table.
    “Eliz— Why are you here, girl?” His eyes swept over her. “What are you doing wearing those foul weeds?”
    Elizabeth glanced down at her clothes and hid her trembling hands behind her. Fear shot through her like bolts of lightning, but she needed to go through with this. Now, while she was alone with him, without Madame Exton present. Sir Thomas, despite his crafty ways, hardly knew Elizabeth well enough to question her word. But Madame would know.
    “Speak, girl,” the man roared. “Where have you been?”
    “I’ve been to the Scot.”
    Sir Thomas sneered in disdain. “You’ve dined with the devil. Hasn’t anyone told you how much I hate their entire race? They are worse than animals. They are mindless scum, cluttering our land.”
    “I’ve done more than dine with him.”
    The man’s voice was cold and deadly. “What the devil have you done?”
    “I’m no longer a virgin.” She looked him straight in the eye. Her words were sharp, quick, and piercing. “No longer.”
    He gasped, staring. “Nay. Don’t lie to me.” Placing his hands on the table to support his weight, Sir Thomas stood. “Do you think me so simple?” Without taking his eyes from her, he shouted for his squire. “John!”
    The young soldier stumbled at once into the tent. His sleepy eyes traveled from his master to the young Scot.
    “Go to Madame Exton. Tell her to come here immediately.” Seeing the boy hesitate and begin to draw a sword on Elizabeth rather than retreat, he shouted. “Damn it, boy. This is my daughter. And make no pretense of duty now. She passed your sleeping carcass to get in here. Now go!”
    Elizabeth felt panic seep quickly through her body. Her scalp was prickling with fear. There was no time left. She had to convince him of this lie before her cousin’s arrival. The older woman would be able to see the truth. Elizabeth knew Madame Exton all too well. She would stop at nothing. She would probably examine Elizabeth herself before believing her words.
    She watched the squire disappear out the opening of the tent.
    “Look at me,” Elizabeth snapped, scorching her father’s downturned face with her own unrelenting gaze. She waited until the older man’s eyes focused on her, and then she continued. “I’m wearing the clothes of your enemy. I accepted his favor after the joust today. Hundreds witnessed it. You witnessed it. Ambrose Macpherson invited me to his tent. So tonight, I went to him. Your men saw me go. Every man in this Golden Vale saw me go. I went willingly and