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“Have you any idea of the violence of my feelings for you? Bess, you are like a fever in my blood!”
She was panting for breath, and his hot glance licked over her lush breasts as they rose and fell. She feared that any moment he would have her naked. “You are treating me like a whore!” she gasped in outrage.
He stared at her with disbelief; he was definitely not treating her like a whore. He had felt only indifference the rare times he had taken one. “Bess, I hold you in the highest regard.… My feelings for you are above reproach.” He saw the look of panic and fear in her eyes and reluctantly released her. “Bess, the last thing I want is to make you afraid.”
As he strode from the chamber, Bess knew she was afraid, all right. But it wasn't of the devastating Lord Talbot. Bess was afraid of herself, afraid of her blatant response to his virility, afraid of her own passionate nature!
After that incident Bess found that Talbot was no longer stalking her, but whenever they were thrown together in the same company, his dark gaze never left her, and when their eyes met he looked as if he would devour her. And even though he kept his distance, Bess found that she was not free of him. To her dismay she began to dream about him, and the dreams were blatantly erotic!
The frenzied nightly celebrations went on until dawn right up to the coronation. Then, on January 14, Elizabeth made a triumphant progress through the streets of London. It was an impressive cavalcade, with her guards, household officers, and peers of the realm all mounted on horseback, with Elizabeth herself riding in a canopied chariot. She wore a mantle of gold and silver tissue edged in ermine. Her ladies-in-waiting and ladies-of-the-bedchamber followed her, gowned in crimson velvet with gold-lined sleeves.
Along the route, upon platforms specially built for the occasion, magnificently costumed figures formed tableaux. Each had a crier who stepped forward as the queen approached and with rhymed couplets explained the significance of the scenes. It was cleverly planned to endear Elizabeth to the people. All along the way she received nosegays and flowers from the children and spoke to them sweetly, amid tumultuous cheers of “Long Live the Queen!”
The next day Elizabeth's coronation took place in Westminster Abbey. She sat before the high altar for a grueling five-hour ceremony where she was anointed, crowned, and given the ring that bound her to the people. Brass trumpets sounded as she was declared Queen of England. She then received homage from her lords of the realm, and finally Mass was celebrated.
Then Queen Elizabeth, carrying her scepter and orb, walked from the abbey down the long corridors to Westminster Hall for the coronation banquet. Elizabeth did not leave the hall until after midnight. Every man and woman at Court was literally exhausted. The queen, however, had made herself ill.
For the next fortnight Robin Dudley, Cecil, Talbot, St. Loe, Cat Ashley, and all her ladies hovered anxiously about Elizabeth's apartments and the Privy Chamber. Bess was convinced that all Elizabeth needed was rest. For an entire month she had insatiably pursued pleasure, greedily snatching all that life now offered, like one who had been starved since childhood.
The queen's illness postponed the opening of Parliament, for which Bess was profoundly grateful. Until Parliament convened, the bill to recover the Cavendish debt could not be passed. Bess knew it would be only a short reprieve, but anything that lightened her heavy burden of worry was welcome.
On the first day of February, the queen arose from her bed with renewed vitality and determination. Her ladies knew Elizabeth was recovered when she treated them to a savage burst of profanity.
“By Christ's precious blood, I never closed my eyes last night. Some whoreson was crashing about directly above my apartments. I want his name so I can string him up by the balls.” She waved an imperious hand. “Go and learn the dirty dog's name—he deserves to be housed in a kennel!”
Young Lettice Knollys blanched. “Me, Your Majesty?”
“No, not you, for Christ's sake! Lady Cavendish knows how to handle men; she has a temper that matches my own. Bess, I want you to rip up one side of the noisome bastard and down the other for the mad racket I was forced to endure.”
Bess smiled her secret smile and picked up her skirts so she could hurry with ease to do the queen's bidding. When she arrived on the floor above, she bit her lip with amusement when she learned who occupied the chambers. Mary Sidney's husband, Henry, was housed up here, as well as Ambrose Dudley. His sister Kitty and the rest of the Dudley menagerie had been visiting last night. There was no way Bess was going to antagonize the favorite's family; Robin would have to lay down the law to his own unruly clan. Bess was headed toward the stairs when suddenly, out of nowhere, Talbot's tall shadow fell across her path.
“Bess, we have to talk.”
“No! We have nothing to say to each other.” Bess made a dash for the stairs. Her heart raced in panic. Dear Lord, it was like being stalked by a black panther. As she ran Bess turned her head to see if he followed and missed a step. She went tumbling down the staircase in a tangle of skirts and petticoats. She cried out as her ankle twisted painfully.
Talbot descended the steps three at a time. “God damn it, Bess, why did you run?” His arms were about her immediately, tenderly lifting her into his lap as he sat down on a step, his face filled with alarm, his heart filled with dread. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his voice roughened with apprehension.
“Splendor of God, I'll be far from all right if anyone sees me being cradled in a married man's lap. I'll have more than my ankle to worry about—my reputation will be blackened! Let me up.”
Gently, he helped her to her feet and saw that she could not bear her own weight. “I'll have to carry you.”
“You'll do no such wicked thing, you lecherous swine; you've done enough! I am perfectly all right.”
“Be silent,” he ordered with authority. Lord Talbot was used to deference from everyone, and he certainly wasn't going to allow a woman to argue with him, especially not this maddening beauty he'd marked as his own. He swung her easily into his powerful arms and descended the rest of the stairs.
Bess sought refuge in anger. It was her only hope against his overwhelming masculinity. She dug her nails into the back of his hand cruelly. “You aren't just a devil,” she panted furiously, “you are Lucifer himself!”
When Lord Talbot strode into the Privy Chamber carrying his pretty burden, the queen's eyes narrowed. “What the devil happened? Have you accosted her?”
Bess bit her lip. She was tempted to say, Yes, he flung me down the stairs, but she felt his hands tighten on her body in warning, and she did not dare. “No, Your Majesty, I twisted my ankle and Lord Talbot came to my rescue.”
The queen studied the pair for a moment. This was the second time Talbot had cast himself in the role of knight errant to Lady Cavendish. Bess was certainly a tempting jade, a true man's woman. Even Robin wasn't immune to her allure. Perhaps it was time to get her safely married.
“She fell down the stairs, and her ankle is badly swollen. She won't be any good to you for at least a week. I suggest you send her home to recuperate,” Talbot advised.
Elizabeth saw the merit in his suggestion. If Bess remained at Court, the ladies would be running to wait on her instead of their queen. “Mary, pack her bag. Bess, I shall send for Syntlo and have him give you safe escort. But I want you back in a sennight.”
An hour later, when Sir William St. Loe lifted Bess up in his arms to carry her to her barge, Lord Talbot fought the urge to smash the captain of the queen's guard in the face.
