"You must never be so thoughtless again! Do you understand me? By not 'paying proper attention,' you'd be bloody well dead right now if I hadn't happened to be in exactly the perfect spot to save you! My God, Michelle, if anything happened to you—" Tears glinted in his eyes before he crushed her against him once more. "Just be careful. Please!"
Micheline's reply went unheard as castle guests pushed past them on the staircase, hurrying to greet the king and Anne Boleyn. They had little choice but to join the assemblage in the courtyard, and, for the moment, Micheline's brush with disaster was forgotten.
For once, King Henry had traveled light. Only a dozen grooms and another two dozen assorted servants accompanied them, along with a large wagon packed with the necessary amenities.
Henry and Anne had ridden in a magnificent coach, and the sight of them emerging into the twilit courtyard was dazzling. The Marquess of Pembroke was resplendent in crimson velvet trimmed with emeralds and ermine, while the king wore plum satin and cloth of gold. His fingers were a mass of jeweled rings, and around his neck was a gold collar from which hung a diamond as big as a walnut.
"Your Majesty," Sandhurst said, leading Micheline forward, "you honor us."
"Welcome, sire," Micheline added with sincerity. She dropped into a low, graceful curtsy before the huge monarch, rising only when he reached for her hand.
"It was worth the journey to gaze once more upon your lovely countenance, madame," Henry told her.
Greetings were exchanged with Anne Boleyn, then the castle guests came forward one by one to pay their respects. Finally Henry boomed, "I am ravenous! I hope your cooks have been busy!"
Andrew smiled. "My father awaits us in the great hall, where you may sup immediately if you like, sire. Shall we join him?"
* * *
Sandhurst wouldn't let Micheline out of his sight that evening, which pleased her tremendously. After supper the tired king and his lady retired to their chambers, so Andrew and Micheline were able to steal away early. He went with her to her room, where they played chess and piquet until midnight. When she began to nod over the cards, he bade her go to bed, averting his eyes as she undressed and slid between the covers. Although it was the eve of their wedding and he'd been randy as a stallion for weeks, tonight his mood was tense. It was as if he feared that fate might be conspiring to remove Micheline from him before they could be married, and he was determined not to allow that to happen. Irrationally Sandhurst felt that once she was his wife, no harm could come to her.
Lying in bed, Micheline opened her eyes just enough to gaze over at his chiseled profile. Meanwhile, in the truckle bed across the room, Mary was making her usual variety of sleep noises.
Many times that evening Micheline had thought of telling Andrew about the riding accident and the brief impression she'd had of a shadow and of something touching her back before she fell down the stairs, but it seemed that those revelations would cause more trouble than good, especially on the eve of their marriage. She had been so preoccupied on the stairs that it was impossible to be certain now if there really had been a shadow, let alone identify it, and the pressure against her back might have been the wall. Unless she could point to the person who had pushed her, what was there to gain by upsetting Andrew?
Once they were married, Iris Dangerfield would have to face reality, Micheline thought drowsily as she closed her eyes. The woman would seek out another lover and leave them in peace.
* * *
At daybreak Micheline awoke to find Andrew sleeping in a chair next to her bed, fully dressed, his feet propped on the side of the bed. His handsome head was tilted to one side and sunlight glinted off the stubble of his beard. Birdsong filled the air.
Languorously Micheline stretched out a hand to lightly caress his cheek. Slowly Sandhurst's brown eyes opened as his brows went up. Catching her fingers, he kissed them.
"Good morning, my lord," she murmured.
"Go back to sleep, fondling. You'll need the extra rest to stay awake"—he gave a wickedly drowsy grin—"later."
She smiled at that thought and dozed off again, dreaming that she was falling from a horse, sailing through the air, only to land safely in drifts of