Mistress to the Crown by Isolde Martyn Page A

please.’ I half-turned to the window, like a good housewife. ‘Shall I snuff the candles?’
    ‘No.’ Male and a dash indignant. Surprise must have flashed across my face before realisation enlightened him. ‘Lord love us, Elizabeth, have you only done the deed in darkness?’
    ‘Yes,’ I hung my head and swallowed. Would this be a disaster? I was so miserably tutored, and a man like this, so experienced, so worldly.
    ‘I can blindfold you. It might be the right thing.’ And amusing too, his tone hinted.
    ‘As it pleases you.’ Uncertainty was beginning to undermine me and with it a tiresome trembling as though my body was as nervous as my mind.
    ‘Well, first let’s unpeel you. No, let me!’ He stepped behind me and his body touched mine as he unfastened the cords of my cloak from around my neck. It was sensuous having him so close, so intimate. With husbandly dexterity, he eased off the cap, wire and veiling that covered my hair and gave a whistle of admiration.
    ‘By the Lord, you certainly have an angel’s beauty.’ His breath was sweet upon my cheek and neck. He kissed me behind the ear.
    ‘Hmmm.’ I purred, letting my head fall back slightly. ‘I rather like that. Can you do it some more, please?’
    ‘My poor starved kitten.’ He kissed me on the other side and then in the little hollow between my neck and shoulders. Already his fingers were round my waist, unfastening the knot of my silken belt. My gown was eased up and tossed across the end of the bed. His adroit fingers tested the ties of my underskirt and then rose instead to sprawl across my breasts. His thumbs caressed my nipples, sending waves of delicious feeling to between my thighs. I sighed with delight as his right hand slid down over my belly into the shield of tiny curls.
    ‘Have you never done this by yourself, sweetheart?’
    ‘I have, my lord,’ I admitted.
    Hastings laughed and turned me to face him. He was utterly naked, but before I could see him properly, he kissed me. I had never been kissed in such a way in my entire life. The fire and wildness in it melted me to my very soul. I wound my arms about his neck. He slid his hands down my back and held me hard against him. I could feel his prick hard against my lower belly, and when we paused to draw breath, I put my hand down to feel him. Compared to Shore, he was huge.
    ‘I thought you said you were a new apprentice, sweetheart.’
    ‘Book learning,’ I lied.
    ‘Which library?’ he teased. Our foreheads were touching. He was loosening my hair and combing his fingers through it so it shawled my back. Oh, if only marriage had been like this.
    Then with a laugh he bent swiftly, and suddenly I was lifted in his arms like a rescued maiden and laid upon the coverlet of the bed. With a knee upon the bed, he sprang up beside me, turned me over and loosened the back laces of my chemise. Then withmy breasts free, he began to tease the tips of my nipples with his tongue. I was able at last to bury my fingers in his hair, free to delight and gasp with pleasure, free to arch my body at the beautiful sensations thrilling through my entire being.
    Then he swept his hand down to the badge of hair and eased his fingers into me, touching me where my body burned for his coming. He gave a satisfied growl.
    ‘I am on fire,’ I gasped. Was the Devil inside me, driving me so?
    He laughed softly and, to my dismay, slid from the bed.
    ‘No, no,’ I protested. ‘You are not leaving me?’
    He touched a finger to my lips and walked across to take something from the small table. Was he doing this to torment me? My body was crying out for him to enter.
    ‘We need to be careful, sweetheart. I’m going to push this inside you.’
    Whatever it was – a tiny sponge I discovered later – it smelled of vinegar. I was not pleased – this was a strumpet’s device.
    ‘No, you need not concern yourself,’ I protested, writhing away from him. If I had not wanted him so much, I might have fled.