Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 2 Read online

  ‘I was born to be queen,’ she flashed at him.

  ‘No-one denies it,’ he said. ‘Least of all me. Because I was born to be your lover and your husband and your king.’

  She hesitated. ‘Robert, even if we declare our betrothal you would not take the title of king.’

  ‘Even if?’

  She flushed. ‘I mean: when.’

  ‘When we declare our betrothal I shall be your husband and King of England,’ he said simply. ‘What else would you call me?’

  Elizabeth was stunned into silence, but at once she tried to manage him. ‘Now, Robert,’ she said mildly. ‘You’ll hardly want to be king. Philip of Spain was only ever known as king-consort. Not king.’

  ‘Philip of Spain had other titles,’ he said. ‘He was emperor in his lands. It didn’t matter to him what he was in England, he was hardly ever here. Would you have me seated at a lower place, and eating off silver when you eat off gold, as Philip did with Mary? Would you want to so humble me before others? Every day of my life?’

  ‘No,’ she said hastily. ‘Never.’

  ‘D’you think me not worthy of the crown? Good enough for your bed but not good enough for the throne?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, of course not, Robert, my love, don’t twist and turn my words. You know I love you, you know I love no-one but you, and I need you.’

  ‘Then we have to complete what we have started,’ he said. ‘Grant me a divorce from Amy, and publish our betrothal. Then I can be your partner and helpmeet in everything. And I will be called king.’

  She was about to object but he drew her towards him again and started to kiss her neck. Helplessly, Elizabeth melted into his embrace. ‘Robert …’

  ‘My love,’ he said. ‘You taste so good that I could eat you.’

  ‘Robert,’ she sighed. ‘My love, my only love.’

  Gently he scooped her up into his arms and took her to the bed. She lay on her back as he slipped off his gown and came naked towards her. She smiled, waiting for him to put on the sheath that he always used in their lovemaking. When he did not have the ribboned skin in his hand, nor reach to the table by the bed, she was surprised.

  ‘Robert? Have you not a guardian?’

  His smile was very dark and seductive. He crawled up the bed towards her, pressing his naked body against every inch of her, overwhelming her with the faint musky smell of him, the warmth of his skin, the soft, prickly mat of hair at his chest, and the rising column of his flesh.

  ‘We have no need of it,’ he said. ‘The sooner we make a son for England’s cradle the better.’

  ‘No!’ she said, shocked, and started to pull away. ‘Not until we are known to be married.’

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Feel it, Elizabeth, you have never felt it properly. You have never felt it like my wife has felt it. Amy loves me naked and you don’t even know what it is like. You’ve never had half of the pleasure I have given her.’

  She gave a little moan of jealousy and at once reached down, took hold of him, and guided him into her wetness. As their bodies came together and she felt his naked flesh with her own, her eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Robert Dudley smiled.

  In the morning the queen declared that she was ill and could see no-one. When Cecil came to her door she sent out word that she could see him very briefly, and only if it was a matter of urgency.

  ‘I am afraid so,’ he said solemnly, gesturing at the document in his hand. The sentries stood to one side and let him into her bedchamber.

  ‘I told them I needed you to sign for the return of French prisoners,’ Cecil said, coming in and bowing. ‘Your note said to come at once with an excuse to see you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Because of Sir Robert?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said baldly.

  ‘I know it.’

  Something in the flatness of her voice alerted him. ‘What has he done?’

  ‘He has made … a demand of me.’

  Cecil waited.

  Elizabeth glanced at the faithful Mrs Ashley. ‘Kat, go and stand outside the door and see that there is no-one listening.’

  The woman left the room.

  ‘What demand?’

  ‘One I cannot meet.’

  He waited.

  ‘He wants us to declare our betrothal, for me to grant him and that woman a divorce, and for him to be called king.’

  ‘King?’

  Her head bowed down, she nodded, not meeting his eyes.

  ‘King-consort was good enough for the Emperor of Spain.’

  ‘I know. I said. But it is what he wants.’

  ‘You have to refuse.’

  ‘Spirit, I cannot refuse him. I cannot let him think me false to him. I have no words of refusal for him.’

  ‘Elizabeth, this madness will cost you the throne of England, and all the danger and all the waiting, and the peace of Edinburgh, will be for nothing. They will push you from the throne and put in your cousin as queen. Or worse. I cannot save you from this, you are finished if you put him on the throne.’

  ‘Have you thought of nothing?’ she demanded. ‘You always know what to do. Spirit, you must help me. I have to break with him and before God, I cannot.’

  Cecil looked at her suspiciously. ‘Is that all? That he wants a divorce and to be called king-consort? He has not hurt you, or threatened you? You remember that would be treason, even if done in love? Even if done by a betrothed lover?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No, he is always …’ She broke off, thinking what intense pleasure he gave her. ‘He is always … But what if I have a child?’

  His look of horror was as dark as her own. ‘Are you with child?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Well, I don’t know …’

  ‘I assumed that he took care …’

  ‘Until last night.’

  ‘You should have refused.’

  ‘I cannot!’ she suddenly shouted. ‘Do you not hear me, Cecil, though I tell you over and over again? I cannot refuse him. I cannot help but love him. I cannot say no to him. You have to find a way for me to marry him, or you have to find a way for me to escape his demands, because I cannot say no to him. You have to protect me from my desire for him, from his demands, it is your duty. I cannot protect myself. You have to save me from him.’

  ‘Banish him!’

  ‘No. You have to save me from him without him ever knowing that I have said one word against him.’

  Cecil was silent for a long moment, then he remembered that they had only a short time together: the queen and her own Secretary of State were forced to meet in secret, in snatched moments, because of her folly. ‘There is a way,’ he said slowly. ‘But it is a very dark path.’

  ‘Would it teach him his place?’ she demanded. ‘That his place is not mine?’

  ‘It would put him in fear of his life and humble him to dust.’

  Elizabeth flared up at that. ‘He never fears,’ she blazed. ‘And his spirit did not break even when his whole family was brought low.’

  ‘I am sure he is indefatigable,’ Cecil said acidly. ‘But this would shake him so low that he would give up all thought of the throne.’

  ‘And he would never know that I had ordered it,’ she whispered.

  ‘No.’

  She paused. ‘And it would not fail.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He hesitated. ‘It requires the death of an innocent person.’

  ‘Just one?’

  He nodded. ‘Just one.’

  ‘No-one that I love?’

  ‘No.’

  She did not pause for a moment. ‘Do it then.’

  Cecil allowed himself a smile. So often when he thought Elizabeth the weakest of women he saw that she was the most powerful of queens.

  ‘I will need a token of his,’ he said. ‘Do you have anything with his seal?’

  Almost she said ‘no’. He saw the thought of the lie go through her mind.