Rose Bride by Elizabeth Moss

knowing smile.
    Virgil bowed. ‘Ladies.’
    As soon as the door had closed behind the two women, he tore off the leather apron and threw it to the floor. His hand cupped the large aching bulge of his codpiece, and he groaned quietly as he thought ahead to another long day of meticulous, careful toil in his workshop – with no chance of relief.
    ‘If I cannot have that woman soon, I shall run mad,’ he muttered.
     
    Some nights later, Margerie could almost have wished she were safely tied to her bed. For she would rather face such humiliating imprisonment than endure this meeting Kate had arranged, an encounter she had herself requested yet dreaded with all her soul. Consumed by her own past fears, she shrank into the shadows of the fragrant darkened garden, glad of the soft grey cloak and hood she had chosen to hide herself from prying eyes.
    ‘Must it be now?’ she whispered to Kate, her heart beating furiously loud and fast.
    ‘Yes,’ her friend insisted stubbornly.
    ‘But if we are caught here so late . . .’
    ‘Then we will claim to have been out whoring, and no man will suspect us of lying, for that is what they all think we do anyway. Now hush,’ Kate hissed, jerking on her hand, ‘and remember this was your idea and you are doing this for a friend.’
    Margerie’s face flushed. ‘Hardly that.’
    ‘To make amends, then.’
    She sighed. ‘Yes, yes, to make amends. You are right. And it was my idea.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘But only because I cannot bear to see another woman falling into the king’s hands. Henry’s lechery will kill us all.’
    Kate’s eyes flew wide at this. She laid a finger on her lips, shaking her head. ‘For the love of God, Margerie! Would you be tried for treason too?’
    ‘Quiet, someone is coming!’
    Kate turned, staring intently into the misty spring evening. ‘It is him.’
    ‘Oh God.’
    Kate squeezed her hand reassuringly, though her smile was twisted. ‘He and I were nearly lovers once,’ she whispered in her ear. ‘We were both very young and inexperienced. Did I ever tell you the story of that night? Suffice it to say it was not one of my better seductions. Though I remember he was a very good kisser.’
    ‘Kate!’
    ‘Wait here. If his lordship sees you first, it will all be over. You know his temper: it is famous for being easily lost. And don’t forget, they were questioning his wife today. He will be on edge.’
    Kate slipped away across the walled palace garden, surrounded by hushed cloisters, and left Margerie to watch in sudden trepidation as her friend met her former lover, Lord Wolf. She felt a little sick, and kept the grey hood pulled forward, hiding her face. If only she were braver!
    The night she had lain with Wolf felt so long ago, another lifetime away, almost as misty in her memory as his face across the palace garden now. Even though still half a boy, he had been an intense lover, his gaze hot and frightening as he pulled up her gown and drew her down into the bed on top of him. She had not wanted him to become her lover, but her mother had insisted, and Margerie had not felt strong enough to resist.
    ‘If he takes your maidenhead, he will be forced to marry you. When his father dies, that boy will be the next Baron Wolf, and you will become a great lady,’ her mother had explained, eagerly dressing her for a seduction that night. ‘Never mind if you feel nothing for him, silly girl. Love is not for the nobility. Be quiet and do your duty to our family.’
    But although Margerie had let him take her virginity, and even agreed afterwards in muted tones to be his wife, nonetheless she had changed her mind as soon as Wolf left court to fight for the king. There had been something stark and forbidding in his descriptions of Wolf Hall and the cold northern land she would call home once they were married. And she still shuddered to recall his possessive stare, the way he had insisted on leaving that she look at no other man until his