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He breached the portal in a heartbeat, wanting to go slow, to draw it out forever, but he could not. His body had a will of its own. His thoughts mocked him—he knew he'd have to have her a hundred times before he could pleasure her slowly and sensually. This time he did not have to wait even a moment for her. Bess arched up off the bed with a cry that echoed his own. Both matings had been primal, all thrusting tongues and feverish, driving lust, as his hard flesh beat and pounded against her softness. Yet still his sexual energy was not all spent.
He withdrew his phallus from her sheath and moved down her body until his face was level with her belly. He kissed her and caressed her, rubbing his cheeks against her silken skin, tasting her, inhaling her woman's scent, learning her essence.
Slowly, Bess opened her eyes and the room stopped spinning. When she looked down she saw her breasts still rising and falling from her wanton exertions, then she looked beyond them to where his dark head lay against her belly, his mouth still lavishing her with adoration.
It began to dawn on her what they had done. They had both committed adultery! Never had she allowed her heart to rule her head, and in truth she hadn't this time. But she had certainly allowed her body to rule her head. Guilt washed over her. Strangely, the guilt she felt had nothing to do with her present husband. Rather, it was for betraying Cavendish with a lover. Bess reached out her hand until her fingers touched his blue-black hair. “Enough,” she whispered.
“Let me make love to you again, Bess.” His face was still hard with desire.
“What we did had nothing to do with love—it was lust, pure and simple.” Honesty made her admit, “It was magnificent and exactly what I needed, but it was lust.”
Shrewsbury knew that lust was not all he felt for this glorious woman, but he kept a wise silence.
Bess sat up and tossed back her disheveled mane. “Shrew, I have betrayed my husband, and you have betrayed your wife. We cannot undo it, but we can make sure it never happens again.”
Never again? You must be mad to ask the impossible.His sensual mouth curved. Bess could no more deny herself such passionate pleasure than he could. Reluctantly, he reached for his clothes, finally remembering why he had come. “Tomorrow I shall come again and take you to the interrogation room. It shouldn't be long after that when you will be freed.” As Bess went to retrieve her petticoat, he spoke urgently. “Don't dress! Let me see you nude until I leave.”
She hesitated only a moment. He had brought her so much pleasure, how could she deny him such a fleeting favor?
After Shrewsbury departed, Bess realized he had brought her more than pleasure—he had banished her dark fears, restored her hope, and given her back her confidence. Her resilience was renewed, as she pondered how much longer she would have to remain in the Tower of London. Bess smiled a secret smile. She had been here seven months; she could do the rest of her time standing on her head, she decided with bravado.
As promised, Shrewsbury returned the following day. Bess kept a cool distance between them, knowing that his closeness would make mincemeat of her resolve. As a tangible reminder of their wantonness, she held one of his shirt buttons that she had picked up from the floor. When she tightened her fingers, the sharp mother-of-pearl cut into her palm.
In the interrogation room Shrewsbury questioned her about her knowledge of Lady Catherine Grey's marriage, how long she had known of it, and if she had aided and abetted the girl to deceive the queen. Bess told him the truth, as was her wont, and she saw Talbot's mouth quirk with amusement. Impatiently, she confessed her privy thoughts. “My incarceration has little to do with Catherine—it is a warning to keep my mouth shut about all the secrets I guard!”
Talbot put a quick finger to his lips. “When I take you before the council, admit nothing, deny all.”
“Is it because you are a senior member of the privy council that you were chosen to interrogate me?”
“That and because I am chief justice of the north, where your home and property are located. However, I wasn't chosen, Bess; I insisted it was my right.” He moved toward her and took her hand.
Bess felt an immediate physical response to his powerful masculinity. She hovered on the brink of going into his arms but caught herself in time. She opened her fingers, revealing the shirt button and her bloodied palm. She lifted her black eyes to his and saw raw desire blaze up in them. Her lashes came down to conceal her own desire as he took her hand to his lips and tasted her blood. She took back her hand and replaced it with a tiny barb. “My blood is not nearly blue enough for you, milord.”
He cocked an amused brow. “ 'Tis not blue at all, Vixen.”
“You arrogant raptor,” she whispered, adding the insult to the toll she would make him pay before she was done with him.
When Bess was questioned by the privy council, they took their findings and their recommendations to Principal Secretary Cecil, who was aghast to learn that Lady St. Loe was still in the Tower. Cecil advised the queen to release her friend immediately, and on March 25, a fortnight after Shrewsbury's initial visit, the door of her cell was unlocked.
Bess stepped across the threshold, vowing never to become a victim again. In the past, whenever a supplicant had come to her, she had put herself in their shoes, enabling her to empathize with them. Bess decided never to do that again. From now on she would steadfastly maintain her own point of view, self-serving though that might be.
Her reunion with her husband was touchingly affectionate. His genuine tears of relief made her overlook his shortcomings. She told herself that if she had wanted a hard-as-nails man who threw his weight about and dominated all in his path, she should not have wed William St. Loe, who was a gentle man to the bone.
He presented her with a velvet-covered casket, which took her breath away when she opened it. He had bought her a pendant and earrings of deep blue Persian sapphires to welcome her home and help erase the deep guilt he felt over not visiting her in the Tower. “Will, these are finer than any of the jewels you have given Elizabeth. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“Elizabeth needs jewels to make her look radiant— you do not, Bess.”
She kissed him. “That's the loveliest thing you've ever said to me, my dear.”
Not until May did the council declare that no marriage had ever taken place between Lady Catherine Grey and young Hertford. Any children of their union were therefore bastards, and the pair was confined indefinitely to the Tower for “unlawful carnal copulation.”
Now that Lady St. Loe was free, all her fair-weather friends at Court flocked back to her. She was invited to every social function, and Bess attended, delighting in showing off her fashionable wardrobe and growing collection of jewels. Because of her forced absence she was more gay and witty than ever, fending off Shrewsbury's secret overtures and enjoying Queen Elizabeth's favors as if nothing had ever happened.
But as spring gamboled toward summer, Bess knew she must have a serious talk with her husband about her future. “Will, I want to leave early for Chatsworth this year.”
“I think that is a splendid idea, Bess. It will give you more time to spend with the children.”
Bess took a deep breath. “Will, I shan't be returning to Court in the autumn. I plan to take up permanent residence at Chatsworth.”
