been trying to open the door in spite of the lock? Memories of that terrifying night at Hampton Court returned in a flood.
"Mary? Mary, are you awake?"
"Hmmm?" the girl mumbled.
Micheline threw back her covers and rushed over to the maid's little bed. "Did you hear that noise just now? That rattling at the door?"
Mary propped herself on an elbow and blinked in the moonlight. Her mistress was positively wild-eyed. "No, ma'am, I heard nothing! Was it like that scratching sound at the king's palace?" She'd been told that story the next day and ever since had felt rather uneasy about sharing Micheline's rooms. Now, however, Mary began to wonder if the Frenchwoman might have an overactive imagination.
"No—no, it was different, as though someone were trying to open the lock."
"Pardon me for saying so, ma'am, but I wonder if you might have dreamed this. You're still nervous after that other night. Perhaps the sound you heard was part of your dream and it only seemed real."
"You're absolutely certain that you heard nothing at all?" Micheline persisted.
"Nothing." Mary's voice was firm.
"Well," she sighed, "perhaps you're right, then. I'm sorry for disturbing you."
"That's all right, ma'am. I've had nightmares myself. You know we're safe with that lock Lord Sandhurst put on the door. Why don't you go back to sleep and order up a happy dream about your bridegroom?" The girl beamed in the shadows. "You ought to be far too happy to let a little rattle at the door disturb you!"
"You're right, of course. Thank you, Mary."
"Good night, ma'am."
Micheline crawled back into her bed and closed her eyes. Silently she repeated, "It was only a dream," until sleep came at last.
Chapter 28
April 19-20, 1533
The new day dawned so replete with buttery sunshine that Micheline was able to laugh with Mary about the noise she had heard during the night. Now she ascribed the entire incident to an understandable case of nerves.
After a refreshing scented bath, she dressed in a favorite gown of yellow silk that flattered her spicy-bright hair and iris-blue eyes. Mary was just brushing out her curls when a knock sounded at the door.
The maid opened it to admit Lord Sandhurst, who further enhanced the cheerful atmosphere. Looking rakishly handsome in the morning light, he was carrying a large orange and a bouquet of daffodils and bluebells.
"Good morrow, ladies! Have you ever beheld a finer day?" White teeth flashed against his tanned face as he presented Micheline with her gifts. When his hands were free, he cupped her face and kissed her warmly. "One thing's certain. No man has ever beheld a more beautiful woman."
"You're biased, my lord."
"But truthful. Honesty is but one of my sterling qualities."
Micheline was radiant with love as she gazed up into his warm brown eyes. " 'Twould seem you lack only modesty," she teased.
Sandhurst gave a mock serious sigh. "In my case, it's difficult to be honest and modest at the same time."
She laughed as he bent to brand her throat with his mouth. "What accounts for this lighthearted mood?"
"Haven't you heard? I'm in love!" Stepping back, he reclaimed the orange and began to peel it, smiling at Micheline as she buried her nose in the blooms.
"I've already heard that rumor, my lord."
"Have you? Well, let me try another. Have you also heard that I'm to be married... tomorrow?"
She nearly dropped the flowers. "What? Do you jest? How can such a thing be possible?"
He took the daffodils and bluebells from her and stuck them into a nearby pitcher of water, then laughingly put a segment of orange into her mouth.
"It's possible because I made it so, fondling," Sandhurst explained blithely.
Because her mouth was full, she couldn't speak, and then he was kissing her, sharing the juicy orange. A wave of passion broke over Micheline's body as his strong hands slid around her hips and drew her hard against him. There were moments, like this one, when the combination of emotional and physical sensation seemed almost impossibly explosive. She half expected her heart to simply burst one day.
"God's death," Andrew muttered harshly while kissing her ear with burning lips, "even one more day seems an eternity. I don't know if I can survive until tomorrow."
"You must!" she warned shakily. Her skin was so sensitive that each brush of his mouth touched off lightning currents of arousal. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow!" She repeated the word in wonder, caressing the hair that curled behind his ears.
"It may as well be next year for all the good it does me now!"