This is just one more escapade to recount to your children!"
"I'd like to live to produce them!" Jeremy shot back hotly.
"I think he wants to go," Micheline informed her husband.
"Lord knows I've been ready ever since I arrived!" Andrew laughed again.
The comical-looking trio emerged onto the twisting staircase that spiraled down through the Garden Tower. Outside in the night air, Sandhurst inhaled the breeze off the Thames and gave Micheline a brief, meaningful grin. Then he put his arm around Jeremy, who sagged against his old friend as if he were ill.
Micheline was looking on with convincing anxiety as they came under the Byward Tower.
"The duke collapsed from the shock of seeing his son," Andrew muttered to the guard. "I thought it best to help him out before the ceremony of the keys."
The story worked until they came to Sergeant Pease. He heard Sandhurst out, then peered doubtfully at him in the darkness. Warm fog had rolled in off the river, making it difficult to see.
"Is that you, Carson?"
Fearing the worst, Jeremy let out a tortured groan. "I'm dying!" he gasped.
"Please, take my father-in-law to our carriage!" Micheline said to Andrew in an urgent tone. Turning back to the sergeant, she could see by the way his eyes followed the two men that he would wait only a minute or two for "Carson" to reappear. His distraction was such that Pease didn't notice her step back behind him and reach for the bottle of wine she'd given him earlier. An instant later he lay slumped against the stone wall of the barbican.
Lifting her skirts, Micheline ran to catch up with the two men. "We've only a few minutes!" she cried. "They'll find him when they lock the gates!"
Sandhurst clasped her hand as the three of them sprinted to reach the horses tethered at the top of Tower Hill. He lifted Micheline onto Primrose, then swung up on Hampstead, patting the stallion's neck.
"God's teeth!" Jeremy ejaculated. "Let's be away!"
Tossing his guard's bonnet into the street, Andrew laughed with relief. "You brought my sword?"
"No valet could be better!" cried Jeremy, brandishing the weapon.
"My thanks to you, old friend. Go home to the safety of your bed. My wife and I are bound for Whitehall Palace, where we shall effect act two of this drama!"
As the horses broke into a trot on Byward Street, Micheline looked over to meet Sandhurst's gaze. In spite of the danger that infused the very air they breathed, she had the sensation that he was kissing her with his eyes.
Chapter 37
June 12, 1533
Moonlight silvered the King's Street Gate, which bridged the thoroughfare, allowing access from the river wings of the Whitehall Palace to the newer collection of buildings, gardens, tennis courts, a cockpit, tiltyard, and bowling alley that sprawled west of the street.
Sandhurst tethered their horses in a darkened court, then stripped off Carson's uniform and the added padding, revealing his sage-green doublet, buff breeches, and boots. To Micheline's astonishment he then caught her in his arms, and she found herself pressed up against the side of a building. His hands curved over her buttocks, aligning their hips as his mouth captured hers. They shared a long passionate kiss, hearts pounding in unison.
"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this," he murmured finally, tasting the sweetness of her parted lips with his tongue.
He'd been hard the instant their bodies met. Micheline arched her hips suggestively against him. "Mon Dieu!" she sighed.
"I don't suppose you'd consider lifting your skirts.... "
"Shame on you!" She couldn't resist one more intoxicating kiss, though, and her tone was less assured when she added, "I should think you'd have more important matters on your mind tonight."
"Nothing is more important than you, Michelle." His smile flashed in the darkness before he gave an exaggerated sigh. "However, I suppose we ought bring this adventure to a close so that I can take you home to bed."
"To sleep?" Her tone was playful. "It's late and you must be fatigued..."
Sandhurst's brows flew up. "Sleep! Oh, no, my love, I had in mind an entirely new adventure. The other events of the night will seem mundane in comparison!"
Micheline giggled softly as he took her hand and pulled her off toward the turreted Palace Gate.
The watchmen were crying "Ten o'clock!" when Andrew and Micheline parted company in the gardens outside the royal apartments. To the east the River Thames glittered under the stars.
"You have half an hour before Rupert arrives," he told her softly. "I'll see you