Elizabeth: The Golden Age by TASHA ALEXANDER Page A

can be.”
    “Yet you prefer your ship to the palace?”
    “Not for comfort, of course,” he said, taking a second plate of mutton.
    “The company, then? You prefer sailors to queens?”
    “If, Majesty, all my time in London was spent with you, I’d have a very different view of city life. The lure of the sea, though, surpasses any desire for comfort or activity. There’s nothing like it.”
    “Perhaps not,” she said. “But I think we can amuse you sufficiently to entice you to stay with us some time.”
    “At the moment, I’m perfectly content where I am.” The tentative connection between them had grown with every sentence that day, and Elizabeth found that she could not recall feeling more comfortable with another gentleman. Raleigh leaned close when he talked to her, and more than once reached for her hand or arm during the meal. His touch thrilled her.
    “Come,” she said, standing when she was done with her ruined food. “I want to dance with you.”
    The rest of the court, though still complaining about the food, now rushed to finish eating before the queen made her way out of the room. The procession following her grew smaller as it reached her private quarters, where musicians had gathered in the atrium to play.
    He was her partner; she’d allow him no one else. She might have, just to watch his elegant movements, but rejected the idea as soon as she felt their bodies move together, then apart, then close again, their rhythm mimicking the motion of Raleigh’s ship on the sea. She had no intention of sharing this pleasure with anyone else.
    “You have not finished your story,” she said as they danced. “You left off watching. Continue.”
    “Watching, yes.” He smiled down at her. “You were listening to me, weren’t you?”
    “You have all my attention.”
    “You see a smudge, a shadow on the far water,” he said. “For a day, for another day, the stain slowly spreads along the horizon, and takes form—until on the third day you let yourself believe. You dare to whisper the word— land !”
    “I would love to feel the thrill of it,” she said, her breath coming harder.
    “Land. Life. Resurrection,” Raleigh said, pulling Elizabeth close, the air between them crackling. “The true adventure. Coming out of the vast unknown, out of the immensity, into safe harbor at last. That—that—is the New World.”
    
    Bess, who had been watching them from one of the arches lining the atrium, idly took the hand offered her by a courtier who wanted her for the next dance. She could tell the queen was captivated and that Raleigh was something far more than content—she’d noticed an intensity in his eyes that made them look a darker shade of green than usual. When the music began, Bess faltered over steps that should have been familiar.
    Jealousy had tripped her, and she chastised herself for her feelings. Raleigh could never be hers. She needed to be more careful about guarding her heart.
    
    Two days later, the Austrian delegation gathered in the Presence Chamber to hear the queen’s official response to the Archduke Charles’s proposal. No one expected she would marry him, yet the room was so crowded as to be virtually impassable; everyone wanted to see the form her rejection would take. The suitor himself had to fight his way to the front, where he stood, face pale, nervous, waiting for his would-be bride. Around him, the atmosphere vacillated like a stormy wind, the mood varying from group to group: a sour sort of giddiness from the Spaniards, sighing resignation from a cohort of young ladies who admired the handsome man, urgent anxiety from courtiers and ministers concerned with the issue of succession.
    Elizabeth entered, resplendent in an elaborate gown of white velvet, her red hair full of pearls and diamonds, and sat on her throne. She’d made no secret of her fondness for the young man since his arrival at court. She treated him with a careful, dignified respect,