The Banqueting Hall at Windsor was impressive. A great deal of money had been lavished upon it to make it warm, inviting, and comfortable, yet at the same time maintain that magnificent regal quality so revered by the Plantagenet kings.
The spacious hall, however, was not nearly so spectacular as the Plantagenets themselves as they sat upon the royal dais, laughing, talking, shouting, eating, drinking, and glittering.
The king had a magnificent wardrobe; both his clothes and his jewels were dazzling. Tonight he was resplendent in crimson velvet doublet embroidered with golden leopards and lilies. He wore a small gold crown at a jaunty angle. His golden beard, though clipped close, had a tendency to curl. He wore a heavy gold chain and collar studded with rubies. The hand that lifted the jewel-encrusted goblet had a ring on every finger.
Princess Isabel sat next to him tonight in the queen’s ornately carved chair. She wore white satin, her wide sleeves edged in sable. Her tall coronet was set with large carnelians and she wore a bracelet and ring with the same reddish-yellow stones. She adored attention, especially her father’s, and whenever he conversed with the Prince of Wales, seated on his other side, Isabel interrupted to distract him.
Prince Edward’s favorite color was black. He had begun wearing it when he was a boy to make him look older. Then he fancied it brought him luck, so now he even used black in his heraldic devices. Tonight he was in black, double-piled velvet imported from Lucca. On Edward the color was anything but somber. It emphasized his golden hair, the color of ripe wheat, his sun-bronzed skin, and his startling white teeth. He affected no crown, but the collar of his doublet was studded with diamonds, which glittered brilliantly with every movement of his proud head.
Prince Lionel had chosen blue, which played down his ruddy complexion. The heavy gold chain and pendant of cabochon sapphires would have seemed like a millstone on a normal-sized youth, but Lionel’s wide shoulders and broad chest displayed the costly piece to perfection.
Prince John, who had been born in Ghent, was still a boy, but he already had a brilliant intellect coupled with elegant taste. Because his head was tawny as a lion’s mane, he knew green suited him best. He wore a short cape, lined with red fox, fastened with an emerald clasp the size of a pigeon’s egg.
As Brianna’s gaze traveled down the dais, she watched Prince John remove his cape and place it around little Blanche of Lancaster’s shoulders. He cast Lionel a look of contempt for the scurrilous song he was singing, then moved Blanche away from his inebriated brother, so that she was closer to her father, the great Earl of Lancaster. Brianna’s soft heart was touched by the gesture. The two were betrothed and John of Gaunt was already protective of the ethereal little Blanche.
Because her brother, the Earl of Kent, had returned with Prince Edward, Joan dined with him and she had asked Brianna to sit with them. This meant a higher place of honor than Brianna usually occupied, because the brother and sister were royal. However, their father had been beheaded for treason when Joan was only two. He had not really been guilty of any crime, but he was unpopular because he maintained a riotous household and allowed his officers to plunder people wherever they went. As a result, Edmund was now very wealthy. He owned his own town house in London and it was every bit as riotous as his father’s had been.
For years, Edmund had tried his best to seduce Brianna, but she had rebuffed him so often, it had become a joke between them. He finally realized virgins weren’t much fun and he now did his plowing in other fields and treated Brianna like another sister.
Brianna hadn’t yet told Joan about her amazing good fortune. Actually, she wouldn’t believe it until Robert de Beauchamp approached her and began his wooing. She was amazed that Joan hadn’t guessed something was different about her. She was wearing a new gown of amber taffeta, and again she wore her golden girdle studded with emeralds, which had brought her good luck earlier. A bubble of excitement was building inside her until she felt it might burst. She laughed at everything Edmund said, and though she had taken no wine, she felt giddy. The music coming from the glitterns and lutes of the strolling musicians was so captivating she tapped her feet to the rhythm.
She glanced across the Banqueting Hall to the table reserved for the king’s highest nobles. The Earl and Countess of Pembroke were at the top of the table, next to the lovely Countess of Salisbury. The Earl of Warrick was deep in conversation with the Earl of Northampton, and on Warrick’s right hand, sat his son, Robert de Beauchamp. He was watching her! Jesu, how long had his gaze rested upon her? She lowered her lashes, then took a sip of wine to cool her warm cheeks. It had the opposite effect. She recalled her dream of last night, the details of which were now slightly blurred. The knight in her dreams had the same powerful physique, the same aquamarine eyes, and without doubt would likely have the same potent mouth that teased and kissed until she was mindless. Her warm cheeks began to burn with hot blushes. How strange that she had dreamed of Robert with jet-black hair. Still, that was the nature of dreams, a lady had no control over the images that danced about her head in the dead of night.
Suddenly, Brianna felt very shy. She was thankful the jongleurs would entertain them during the last course of dinner. Then Godenal, the king’s minstrel, would perform one of the great heroic epics. Brianna loved to listen to these legends. They inspired her to set them down on parchment in ornamental script and paint brilliant scenes to illustrate them. She glanced at her friend Joan, and noticed that she was every bit as excited and animated as Brianna herself was tonight. Joan wore a new gown of shimmering peach sendal, edged in costly ermine, and had threaded loops of pearls through her hair. Brianna fancied that she too hugged a delicious secret to herself.
Joan met and held Edward’s meaningful glances throughout the meal. The intense interest she read in his face made her feel especially beautiful. When she became utterly breathless, she lowered her lashes demurely and laughed provocatively at whatever her brother said. Her glance was soon drawn back, however, to those dark sapphire eyes that promised their relationship was about to become much more exciting.
Prince Edward was impatient for the meal to be finished so the social mingling and dancing could begin. He was fascinated by the effect Jeanette was having on him. While studying warfare, he had learned strategy. He did not intend to sit another hour gazing at her from afar, while Godenal performed a lengthy epic. Edward smiled at his sister. “You look lovely tonight, Bella. When the dancing begins I know you will be deluged with partners, but save the first one for Father so you don’t injure his pride.”
Isabel was looking forward to dancing with the king in her mother’s place. They would draw every eye and it would give her a chance to show off her new finery.
Edward lowered his voice. “Oh Lord, here comes Godenal. If he gets started on Roland or Charlemagne there won’t be time for dancing tonight.”
Isabel pulled the king’s sleeve urgently. “Father, I’m so looking forward to opening the dance with you, do we have to listen to Godenal tonight?”
“Sweetheart, everyone loves these epic ballads and romances. He is a master storyteller. He can move the entire hall to tears.”
“Tears of boredom,” Isabel said petulantly. “You don’t want to dance with me,” she accused.
King Edward patted his daughter’s hand. The young were so impatient and impetuous. He beckoned Godenal to the dais, had a private word with him, then removed a ring. Ironically, the reward for not performing was more costly than the one for performing.
While the trestle tables were moved against the walls to make room for the dancing, the courtiers repaired to the gallery. As Brianna walked with Joan, she could contain her news no longer. “The king has chosen someone for me,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh, Brianna, who?”
“Robert de Beauchamp.”
“Warrick’s son? Ah, Brianna, you will be the handsomest couple at Court. All will envy you. The maids are mad for him.”
“I can’t believe my good luck.
” Brianna whirled about as she heard a voice ask, “May I join you, demoiselle?”
She looked up into the blond giant’s face. Surely he was the most attractive young man she had ever seen. Suddenly she was tongue-tied and her feet seemed rooted to the spot. Joan, however, smoothed the path for her friend. “I hear the musicians. The hall must be ready for dancing.”
As they walked the length of the gallery, Brianna imagined every eye was trained upon her and her tall escort. Her heart swelled with pride. As Adele joined them, she suddenly found her tongue. “May I introduce Robert de Beauchamp?” The name sounded heavenly. “This is my aunt Adele.”
He bent over Adele’s hand, gallantly bringing it to his lips. His eyes were teasing. “She is far too young to be a chaperone.” He captured Adele’s heart on the spot. “Have I your permission to ask our lady for a dance?”
Adele would have given him permission for anything at that moment, but then, so would Brianna.
Isabel was being swung about the room by the king and after a few moments alone, it was acceptable for other couples to join in the dancing.
Prince Edward walked a circuitous path around the hall toward Joan of Kent. William de Montecute, however, walked a direct path and arrived at her side first. She was acutely aware of Edward’s every move. She bestowed a smile upon Montecute and allowed him to lead her onto the floor. This morning she had learned that Edward became angered when he thought she had an assignation. Jealousy was a spur she could make use of. “I’m sorry about your father, William.”
“Goddamn French. I can’t wait to cross the Channel. All-out war is the only answer. Before we go though, I’d like you to take my suit seriously. Joan, you know you have captured my heart. There is no one but you. I think of you night and day.”
Joan was unmoved by flattery and protestations of undying love. It was the fashion for a young man to declare he was a lady’s slave, when in truth what he really wanted was just the opposite.
“What you think of, night and day, is the glory of war.”
He grinned at her. “When I have won my spurs, I shall woo you and win you. I won’t take no for an answer,” he vowed passionately.
Prince Edward positioned himself so that when the music ended, he was directly in their path. “Well, cousin, will you partner me?” Edward asked casually.
“If you cannot find a partner, I shall have to take pity on you, Your Highness,” Joan teased.
As they moved away, Edward said, “Montecute seemed most earnest in his attentions. Does he mean anything to you?”
“I told him I was sorry about his father.” She made a little moue with her mouth. “Are you jealous?”
“Has he kissed you?” Edward demanded, the muscle in his jaw tightening.
Joan looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “He’s tried,” she admitted, wondering if he would again put his brand on her. Suddenly she saw that was exactly what he was about to do. She stiffened. “Edward, everyone is looking at us.”
“I’m sorry, Jeanette, but you’re driving me mad. I want to be with you … talk to you, where there’s no one to stare at us.”
“That’s impossible, Your Highness.”
“Nothing is impossible if I put my mind to it. It just requires a little strategy.”
“You make dalliance sound like a military maneuver.”
He wanted to crush her in his arms. She was so small, so delectable. God’s Splendor, he couldn’t think coherently when she was this close. He raised his head and glanced about the hall. “I’ll dance with Isabel and you dance with your brother, then have him take you into the gallery.”
Robert de Beauchamp bowed before Brianna. “Do you care to dance, demoiselle?”
“Oh yes, my lord, I love to dance.” She feared she sounded too eager. As they moved onto the floor, she kept her lashes lowered. Finally, she found the courage to look up at him. “Oh, you have a gash on your neck!” she blurted.
“A scratch. Scars are badges of honor, my lady.”
Brianna had never thought of scars in that way. Men saw things in a different light from women. Perhaps scars did show courage in a warrior. She remembered Warrick’s battle scars and shuddered.
“I’m more at home in the field than in the dance, my lady,” he explained. He was far too large to dance gracefully. He was a little clumsy, but suddenly she found that a most endearing quality.
“Please call me Brianna.” Jesu, she sounded too eager again. “Only if you agree to call me Robert.”
“ ‘My lady’ and ‘my lord’ are so formal.” Now she was stating the obvious!
“Brianna, I would like to be your champion in the tournament. Will you give me your scarf or sleeve to wear?”
“Oh yes, Robert, I would be honored.”
As the measure came to a close, Prince Lionel clapped Robert on the back. “Beauchamp, come and sit with us. You hate to dance as much as I do.” Lionel’s eyes traveled from Brianna’s mouth, down to her breasts, then up again. “She’s a tempting morsel, Robert, but the king’s wards are off limits for bed sport.”
Brianna blushed hotly.
“Prince Lionel, Lady Bedford and I are to be betrothed soon, I hope,” Robert said repressively.
“Ah, you lucky dog! Then she won’t be off limits for bed sport.” He laughed at his own wit.
Beauchamp placed a protective arm about Brianna and drew her away from the prince. “Excuse me, Your Highness, I must return Lady Bedford, then I shall be happy to join you.”
Brianna was thrilled that Robert was chivalrously shielding her from Prince Lionel. “He is so coarse,” she murmured, embarrassed.
“I am in his service, my lady. He is a generous liege lord to me. I hope to become steward of his household.”
“Loyalty is an admirable quality, my lord.” Brianna could have bitten off her tongue for criticizing the royal prince. They were back to formalities.
“My lady … Brianna, I hope you are not angry because I said we were to be betrothed, when I haven’t yet asked you.”
“No, no, I’m not angry,” she assured him.
“I may arrange it then?” he pressed.
“Yes, my lord … Robert … if you wish it.”
Beauchamp bowed over her hand and left her with Adele.
“He’s going to arrange the betrothal,” Brianna told Adele breathlessly.
“After only one dance? He must be head over heels!”
Oh no, that’s me, thought Brianna.
Joan strolled along the gallery on Edmund of Kent’s arm. At the far end he spied Prince Edward and Princess Isabel. “This meeting is no accident,” he accused; “admit it was deliberately planned!”
Joan was about to vehemently deny his accusation when she realized of what he accused her.
“Princess Isabel talked you into bringing me out here, you little devil!”
“If you don’t wish to be alone with her, take her straight back to the Banqueting Hall to dance.” Joan had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud.
“I’m happy I amuse you. How the devil will I escape from Isabel? I have an assignation with a lady at ten.”
“You wouldn’t waste your time with a lady,” Joan teased.
“Edmund, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Isabel said happily.
“And I for you, Your Highness. You promised to save me a dance.”
“And when did I do that, sir?” she simpered.
“When the two of us were private in the stables at Berkhamsted,” he said outrageously.
“Edmund, you are so wicked.” She let go of her brother’s arm and took hold of Edmund’s.
The Prince of Wales winked at the Earl of Kent. “Just a moment, Bella. I don’t think I should let you go with this wild man.”
Isabel’s mouth turned sulky. “Edward, please, just one dance?”
The Earl of Kent placed his hand over his heart. “One dance, I swear on my honor as a gentleman!”
As Edward watched the pair walk down t
he gallery toward the Banqueting Hall, he captured Joan’s hand and pulled her through the gallery doors. They slipped upstairs to the solar, which was deserted at this hour. It was used most in daylight hours, when its long windows let in the sunshine. No candles burned, but the moonlight flooded in, touching Joan’s hair and gown with its pale, ethereal light.
“You are so unearthly fair,” Edward murmured, tracing a finger along the soft white ermine at her shoulder.
Joan placed her palms against his broad chest and stroked the hard muscles. The heat from his body spread into her hands and she felt his heart thudding, hard and strong.
Edward groaned. He threaded his fingers into her hair and cupped her face as if he were holding a chalice. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips. “I’ve waited three hours to do this.” The curve of his lips fit hers perfectly, moving with a slow, deliberate thoroughness. The pressure of his mouth increased and his thumbs moved up to brush their lips where they fused, then parted them so he could plunge inside her.
Joan gasped as a thrill ran down her entire body and his sleek tongue probed deep, mastering her.
His powerful arms slid about her body and lifted her to fit his. His thighs were solid as marble and his phallus, which rose up against her soft belly, was rigid with his need.
She arched against him and slid her arms about his strong neck. His hands went beneath her buttocks to support her and the feel of him was so intense, she tore her mouth away so she could cry out her pleasure.