Elizabeth: The Golden Age by TASHA ALEXANDER Page B

and had laughed with him on more than one occasion, but she picked up no hint of passion from him, which was a relief.
    Not that she’d expected to. He was hardly more than a boy. Years ago she would have been able to captivate him in an instant, to lure him to her side and keep him there, hoping he would earn a kiss. But longed-for kisses, whether given or merely anticipated, had, in her past, led only to increasingly urgent proposals. It was much easier to reject someone who didn’t want her, except to fulfill the duties he owed his country. She sighed. This was less painful in many regards. All regards, really, save the uncomfortable recognition that her looks no longer drew every man in the room to her.
    Charles was approaching the throne. She flashed him a smile as he knelt before her. It was a smile full of promise and understanding and friendship, tender and sweet, and was quickly replaced by another expression, this one coolly regal.
    “The queen does not have a private life,” she said, her eyes steady, watching him. “The queen lives for her people. You will therefore forgive me, sire, if after much thought and prayer I decline your offer of marriage.”
    The archduke did his best to conceal relief, but his body went from stiff and awkward to relaxed. Tension flew from his face. Hands that had been clenched released. He turned to the Austrian ambassador, speaking his native tongue. “Can I go home now?”
    Elizabeth inclined her head, freezing the smile desperate to form. “Go home, my friend,” she answered him in German. “Don’t be in a hurry to grow old. Youth is so very precious.”
    He bowed his head. “Your beauty does not end with your face.” He spoke quietly but with more confidence than she’d heard before in his voice, and the earnest sincerity of his tone nearly brought tears to her eyes. She quickly composed herself.
    “You will make someone an excellent husband,” she said, standing and giving him her arm. Murmurs of approval, scorn, and disappointment hummed through the crowd as it parted to allow the couple to pass, but she cared not for any of it. She’d successfully dodged the marriage question for the moment and as soon as the archduke left court—preparations for his departure had already begun—she would have more time for Raleigh. And the thought of that set her heart to soar.
    
    Bess, lost in a sea of ladies, left the room well behind Elizabeth. As she rushed to catch up to her mistress, she saw Raleigh walking toward her. Her heart pounded, and nerves made her worry that she wouldn’t find coherent words to say, but she went straight to him. “Are you satisfied with the queen’s favor?” she asked, blue eyes meeting his, then looking away, then back up to him.
    “She listened as if she understood me. I was talking about solitude and infinite emptiness. Some of the things she said—I thought never to hear from a queen.”
    “And did you expect to dance with the queen?” A teasing lilt filled her voice. He was easy to talk to. Too easy. “A few more dances and you’ll be a duke. Then I shall expect some gratitude.”
    Their eyes met, lingered. They smiled, and the heat she saw in his scared her.
    “We should walk,” she said, starting to turn away. “We’ve fallen awfully far behind.”
    “What do you want?” he asked, coming closer to her.
    “I’m not sure.” Her voice was a bare whisper and their gazes held steady, a delicious tension filling the space around them. She was excited and terrified and looked around to make sure the queen couldn’t see them. Elizabeth was nowhere near, but Bess felt a pang of guilt at flirting with her mistress’s favorite.
    “I expect I’ll think of something.” His voice was deep, and the sound of it sent color to saturate her cheeks and chest.
    “I’ll look forward to it,” she said and rushed after the queen, wanting to get away before the feelings he inspired took up residence in her