being."
The king's hands clenched, betraying his displeasure, but his smile barely faltered. "Will you not allow your wife to answer for herself?"
"I fear I must agree with my husband, Your Majesty," Micheline said clearly. "I am eager to settle into our new life together and to enjoy England. One day I might like to return to France, but only to visit dear friends. I've no desire whatever to linger at the French court again. That was part of another lifetime for me."
Henry's lips thinned. "I can only hope that the two of you will reconsider." He gave Sandhurst a hard stare.
Anne Boleyn had been watching this exchange with increasing disquiet. "Can we not speak about something more cheerful? Pardon me for saying so, sire, but I think we should leave this couple to enjoy their wedding day!"
The king glared at her, but further conversation was interrupted by another toast from Rupert.
Watching his half brother weave and ramble incoherently, Andrew looked at Micheline, a smile playing over his mouth. "Have you had enough?" he whispered.
"Easily!" The mischief in his expression nearly made her giggle.
Sandhurst leaned over to speak to his father, who nodded approval, then waved away the servants who approached with curd and cheese tarts and orange pudding. Rising, he addressed the assembled guests.
"My wife and I would like to thank you all for coming today to share in our happiness." He nodded toward King Henry, hoping to allay any ill feelings. "We'll stay for one dance, then I trust you'll understand if we take our leave." He paused, smiling. "I have a great deal of respect for tradition, but today I hope you won't be disappointed if we dispense with the bedding of the bride... and attendant customs. I've waited a long time for this day, and I'd like to undress Lady Sandhurst myself."
* * *
The sun had just set when Sandhurst closed the paneled door to what had been Micheline's chamber but tonight would be occupied by both of them. The white stone fireplace danced with a freshly lit blaze, sending shadows capering happily over the walls while the sounds of music and dancing drifted in from the hall.
The first thing Micheline noticed was a delicate gold casket that reposed in the middle of the bed. "What's this?" she wondered, picking it up.
"Perhaps someone left it as a wedding gift."
Pleased, Micheline lifted the carved lid, but her expression changed to one of horror when she saw what lay inside the the little box. Nestled in folds of white satin was a gold wedding ring, broken in half. "Andrew! What can it mean?"
Immediately he took the box from her and closed the lid with a snap. "A cruel joke, no doubt perpetrated by someone who desired to taint the joy of this night." Gathering her into his arms, he whispered, "You must forget about it. Forget about everything save the two of us."
Oddly enough, Micheline was able to obey with ease. Her bliss was such that nothing else could intrude.
"Let me dispose of this," he said. "I'll be only a moment."
In the corridor he had the good fortune to encounter Jeremy Culpepper.
"Take this evil thing and destroy it," Sandhurst said flatly, showing his friend the contents of the casket.
Culpepper's eyes widened and a cold chill ran down his spine. "Who would do such a thing? Iris Dangerfield?"
"I know not, and for tonight I do not care." His sculpted profile was hard with anger. "Later, though, I intend to find out. Too many sinister events have been taking place lately, and I mean to discover who is responsible."
With that he turned away and reentered the chamber, smiling at his wife as he closed the door. "Now, where were we?"
Curiously nervous, Micheline perched on the edge of the bed, conscious of the hot blood that stained her cheeks. She watched apprehensively as Andrew lit a candle and placed it on the table next to the bed. The lean lines of his body in profile as he bent over filled her with a skittish passion.
"I want to see you," he said huskily, "the first time we make love as husband and wife."
"Oh." Her lips formed the word, but no sound came out.
"What's amiss, sweetheart?" Sitting down beside her, he raised one slender hand to his mouth and kissed the ring on Micheline's wedding finger. "Surely you're not afraid of me!" This last word was emphasized fondly, as if he found her shyness rather amusing.
"No..." She gasped involuntarily when his mouth found the