Yorkshire any longer than necessary. We shall be married as soon as it is humanly possible. I told the king a fortnight, so if he decides to come, he'll arrive in time. Why should we delay?"
Micheline gave him one of her blinding smiles. Suddenly filled with joy, she teased, "Patience warned me that you might grow overeager to exercise your rights as a husband!"
Sandhurst grinned. His right hand slid slowly down to the base of her spine before drawing her body firmly against his. "For once, Patience is absolutely correct."
* * *
An interminable, tension-laden supper that night in the drafty hall only strengthened Sandhurst's resolve. He waited until everyone else had retired before approaching his father.
The duke was back in his favorite chair in the solar, peering at a book under the light of a brace of candles. When Andrew walked over and sat down opposite him, the old man pretended not to notice.
"Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you."
A long minute passed before the duke glanced up. "A rare occurrence! How fortunate that you happen to be here at the castle rather than in London or Gloucestershire or France! One of life's happy coincidences, hmm?"
"Quite," Sandhurst agreed laconically. "Would you be terribly disappointed if I got directly to the point?"
"Not at all." These conversations with his son reminded him of the fencing matches he'd engaged in when he was younger. Certainly the rules were the same. "I am eager to get back to my book."
"This won't take long. I've come to tell you that Micheline and I would like to be married as soon as possible. There has been so much in her life that's new and I think it would be beneficial to get on with the wedding so that I can take her to Sandhurst Manor for a bit of peace. I said a fortnight to King Henry, which would be tomorrow. Why not have the wedding two days hence?"
The duke smiled wolfishly, watching his strong, handsome son. Andrew was better-looking than he had ever been. More than once he'd wondered what upward turns his own life might have taken if he'd been blessed with such physical gifts.
"Next you'll tell me that this urgency on your part has nothing to do with your desire to bed that saucy French minx!" the old man snorted. "I'd have thought you were man enough to spread her legs back in France!"
The scar that cut into Sandhurst's lip went white . It took every ounce of his control to refrain from striking his own father. "I'll ignore that vulgar speech—this time," he replied in a tone quietly laced with danger. "I'll ride tomorrow to inform the priest and any friends that might like to attend of the wedding date. Jeremy traveled north with us so that he might be present, and no doubt his parents will come too. If there are others you care to notify, kindly inform me by tomorrow morning."
The Duke of Aylesbury pursed his lips. "As usual, you have taken matters into your own hands. Far be it from me to interfere!"
* * *
Micheline slept fitfully in her comfortable feather bed. She would doze and dream, then wake to change positions, staring up at the two narrow windows that overlooked the Yorkshire countryside. Bright shafts of moonlight streamed into the room, annoying her to the extent that she finally scrambled up to close the bedcurtains on that side.
Mary occupied a little truckle bed nearby. It was good to have her there; since Hampton Court, Micheline dreaded the idea of being alone in the darkness. However, the little maid breathed loudly in her sleep.
Midnight came and went. Micheline dreamed that she lay in Andrew's arms, soaking up his warmth, nestling against his lean-muscled chest and listening to his heartbeat as he slept. In reality she felt lost in this huge bed, and was unaccountably chilled in spite of an abundance of covers. Half-conscious, she turned onto her stomach and burrowed into the pillows, pretending they were Andrew.
A distant sound, a rattling, gradually brought her awake again, wondering fuzzily what could be making that irritating noise. It seemed to be coming from the door.
Her eyes opened and her heart began to pound. The rattling had stopped, and she reminded herself that she was safe, for Andrew had attached a heavy iron lock to the bedchamber door, not unlike the one that Henry VIII took with him from castle to castle to ensure his privacy and security.