Pray for Reign (an Anne Boleyn novel) by Thea Atkinson Page B

had been nervous to come home. He stared into the
hearth.
    "In truth, I never wanted the marriage, but once Henry
had decided it would appease the Irish, I could find no honorable way out of
it,." He had not drunk, and Anne wondered quickly if she should take the
goblet from him so he’d not have to hold it. Before she could decide, he was on
his feet. He passed her back the cup and strode to the door.
    "I may yet find you a profitable marriage, my
girl." He winked quickly and departed. Anne was left staring into the
goblet, thinking her world was making the most delicious turns.

Chapter 14
    H arry came again after that first day, and again after
that. Each afternoon was filled with hushed speech and quick touches.
Catherine’s chambers had never been so alive. Anne would steal glances at Harry
as he pretended to be interested in her embroidery. Behind the hoop they’d
touch each other’s hands and whisper of longing and poetry. But always there
was that uncertainty, always he seemed more like her Frenchman than the
aristocrat he claimed to be. And it excited her, reminded her of her need so
that with each passing day she grew hungrier for him—for his presence, his
voice, and someday for his touch.
    At times, the lust she saw in his eyes reflected her own,
and when he whispered to her that he wanted to see her alone, she thought,
" Enfin . At last."
    "I want you to meet me by the pond." His hair fell
forward to cover one eye as he studied the chessboard. She knew he feigned
interest, as did she. His King could have been matched long ago. He said it
again when Anne didn’t answer, so pleasantly shocked that words failed her.
There was a tremor of nervousness in the conspiratorial tone, as if he were
afraid she'd turn him down. When she still didn’t speak, his face immediately
lost all of its careful reserve.
    With a look of utter regret, he wiped his hair back.
    "I shan’t touch you."
    She swore her heart stopped, disappointed. He covertly
motioned toward the middle of the room, where the usual entourage of waiting
women gathered, giggling and gossiping.
    "I just want to be with you, away from all this
chatter."
    She could only nod, but the smile that broadened his face
emboldened her. Whispering, her lips near his ear, she said,
    "Yes."
    So, on a beautiful mid-afternoon she crept from the castle
and onto the young grass of the royal garden. Irises stood tall and purple
against the deep greens of yews, and sent their aroma over the occasional
breeze. It’d taken a good deal of effort, but she’d finished her duties in time
to meet with him. He stood motionless beside the pond. His light hair pulled
back so she could see the outline of his profile. It looked commanding to her,
a certainty or sureness in it. He hadn't seen her yet.
    "Harry?" She thought she’d better say something to
warn him that she was near.
    "I wasn't sure you'd come."
    "I told you I would."
    He didn’t speak. A twitch on his lower lip gave away his
uncertainty. She went to him and took his hand. It tightened around hers, and
she squeezed it back.
    "I would have done a thousand things to free myself to
come here. To you."
    He let go of her hand, and turned to the stone bench that
rested a few feet from the pond. "Come here." He stood beside the
bench expectantly.
    Her wanting squirmed within her.
    "Would you call me as you would a dog?" She teased
him with a raised brow.
    "Good Lord!" His attitude changed, but when he saw
her smiling he seemed to regain his confidence.
    "If I wanted to do to a dog the things I need to do to
you, I'd ask for my genitals to be lopped off."
    The word 'genitals' registered in her mind, obliterating
everything else. For some reason she wanted to say it aloud herself. A queer
feeling, this lust. She remembered a moonlit night; the smell of pine and the
sound of another voice, low tones, French, and the feeling of exquisite
pleasure. She wanted to feel that joy again, that wholeness, wanted to share it
with this man.