The King's Mistress by Terri Brisbin

silence. There was much Orrick needed to do before he could leave again, and at least one conversation with his wife that he would rather not have. But as lord of these lands, ’twas his responsibility to carry out his duties, no matter his personal wants or needs. And his oversight of the abbey’s lands and lucrativesalt lathes was part of that and could not be avoided or ignored.
    Orrick stood and took leave of Gavin who was busy flirting with one of the servants. He’d postponed his meeting with Norwyn last evening and now needed to review the records here and give instructions for his absence for the trip to Abbeytown.
    All through the day, as he met with his steward, the captain of his soldiers, and discussed the coming harvest with those who oversaw his farmlands to the south, his mind drifted back to the woman in the keep. Drawn by the vulnerability of her soft crying, he had watched her as she sobbed out her sadness. With the door between their rooms opened but a crack, he waited until she fell asleep and then carried her to her bed.
    Although he had had his share of women, he was not experienced in the ways of love. He’d search his mind for words to say to her to make her understand Henry’s actions, but there were none. She was obviously so much in love with the king that she could not comprehend that his heart, if it ever were involved, had changed toward her. His plans for her certainly had and Orrick understood all too clearly his selection as her bridegroom—good bloodlines, loyal and far enough away to keep her out of the king’s sight and way.
    Until she accepted that this was not a temporary stay, but her home, there would be no peace between them. Any hopes that Orrick had for a happy marriage depended on her giving up her hopes of the king calling her back to him. Lady Marguerite wasnot about to do that. Not now, and probably not for a long time.
    He may not know love, but he knew the ways of the Plantagenets. Orrick’s father had watched them before him and, although he had no wish to be involved in the intrigues of the court, he knew them nonetheless. The king was a decisive leader, and once Henry had made the decision to give her in marriage, she was gone from his thoughts and certainly from his heart.
    Now, all that had to happen was for her to learn that hard lesson. Tonight’s dinner would be the start of it.

Chapter Six
    P ride filled his heart as he surveyed the hall. His people had put forth their best efforts in trying to impress their new lady. The rushes on the floor were new and freshly scented with herbs. The tables had been scrubbed clean and everyone present seemed a bit cleaner and shinier to him, as though they had all washed and dressed in their best. Even Gavin had shaved and looked more like an English nobleman than a Scots warrior-chief.
    Now, they waited for Marguerite to arrive. She was late for the announced meal time, but Orrick was willing to give her a few minutes. He was drinking his second goblet of wine when she entered.
    The wait had been worth it.
    No longer the road-weary traveler, Marguerite had chosen a rose-colored gown that complemented her complexion. Now restored by a night and day of rest, she walked confidently to the dais and then up the steps until she stood before him. Her beauty nearly made him jump over the table to reach her insteadof walking around it. Gavin must have known the impulses surging through him or seen the lust he knew must be clear on his face, for his friend cleared his throat loudly and Orrick understood the message.
    Control.
    Dignity.
    Hell!
    Orrick strode quickly around to her and held his breath as she lowered into a curtsy before him, as a dutiful wife would before her lord husband. He took her hand and helped her rise, still surprised by her behavior. He had expected some sulking and unpleasantness. Instead the perfect woman presented herself to him and his people.
    He lifted her hand to his lips and