Kathryn (Random Working Title)

As the masked dancers twirled down the hall towards us in the line of the set, and took up partners, the tallest, golden haired dancer took my hand in his. It was the May Day masque, and all the dancers of the Châteaux Blanc were dressed in the Tudor colours of green and white, wearing glittering gold and silver masks shaped as if they were birds. As I danced with this handsome stranger, and from what I could tell through the slits his eyes roved over me, drinking me in as if he could undress me with his eyes alone. The Queen was resplendent upon her throne, seated under the richly embroidered cloth of estate, and dressed in a gown of green and gold damask, twirling a stripped white willow May wand between her slender fingers. As her eyes met mine, she smiled encouragingly at me, but without any of her previous warmth. How could she bear it? To look as if she was enjoying watching her husband the King, openly courting another woman and I flirting with him, egging him on! As the musicians struck up a new tune, the lively Volta, he threw me up in the air in time with the steps of the dance, and I saw my mother. Her eyes met mine and I knew the man in my arms could never know me, the real me, the real Kathryn that he thought he loved. I could read the thoughts flashing through her mind; she was thinking of the advancement of our family, and how much gain my relationship with the King would bring us. His face turned and met mine, and I automatically flashed my courtier’s smile at him, assuring him all was well. In his eyes, all was as it should be. He had a pleasing wife, who brought him useful diplomatic connections, he was as young and handsome as his court, the golden prince of Christendom, and he had a pretty and willing mistress in me, Lady Kathryn Green. He beamed back at me, like a child who had been presented with many wonderful gifts, and I was lost in my own world of pleasure, passion and desire knowing that this man in my arms, the King of England, the great and glorious golden boy Harry, loved me more than any other woman in the world and at this moment would do anything to please me. I was ordered to be capricious towards him to win my way into his heart for my family’s advancement, with no reference to my personal preferences, but from the moment I first set my eyes on him, I have been deeply in love with him. My heart ached when I was not in his presence, and when we weren’t in the same room, when my eyes were not occupied drinking in every detail of him, an advanced state of misery would befall me. I cannot fathom my family’s reaction to the news that I was madly in love with the King.
That evening he sent for me, and as I approached the royal apartments a blazing row met my ears. It took me a moment to realise it was the King and Queen. But before I could catch the gist of their argument however, the King stormed out of his privy chamber, his face red with anger, fire blazing in his eyes. He spotted me standing by the door, and his expression instantly softened. Stopping short he and swept me into his arms and began kissing my hair, my neck, my lips and my eyelids, then without hesitation he scooped me up into his arms and carried me into his thankfully deserted bedchamber and laid me down on the magnificent bed, still covering me in his kisses and caresses.
I woke up in the night, and as I watched a beam of moonlight cast its glow across the masculine features that formed the face of the man I held most dear, I knew I was the luckiest girl in England to be loved by him in his bed tonight.