Henry Tudor jumped to his feet, towering over her as his big hand gripped her arm, yanking her up. “Do not try my patience, madame. You well know how dangerous I can become when provoked.” The blue eyes met her amber ones.

Rosamund pulled away from him. “Then, Hal, let us both sit down. I will freely answer any question you have of me, but this charade you attempt to play with me is both childish and hardly worthy of Great Harry.” Her gaze did not waver beneath his.

He motioned her impatiently to one of the chairs, seating himself in the other. “Do not forget I am your king,” he growled.

“I have never forgotten it, Hal.” He had not reprimanded her use of his name, and so she continued it.

“Richard Howard, my ambassador, saw you in San Lorenzo,” the king told her.

“I know,” Rosamund answered. “San Lorenzo is a tiny place, my lord, and there are no secrets there that can be kept for long. Lord Howard recognized my face and was told my name. He knew he had seen me before.”

“He said you lied to him when he asked if you knew him,” the king noted.

“Nay, Hal, I did not lie. He had seen me at court long ago, and I had seen him. But we had never been introduced, so we could hardly know each other, now, could we?”

The king emitted a short burst of laugher, then grew serious once again. “What was Lord Leslie doing in San Lorenzo? He had been my brother-in-law’s first ambassador there years ago. Why did he go back, madame?”

“When the earl and I first met at Stirling, Hal, something odd happened to us. We fell in love, if indeed you believe in love, but whatever happened between us happened. We could not bear to be parted. The Scots court, however, was hardly the place for us to carry on our liaison, any more than your court would have been the right place. It was cold and snowy that winter. The earl conceived the idea of taking me to San Lorenzo, where we might enjoy the warmth of the south and pursue our passion for each other.”

“You lived in the ambassador’s residence,” the king said suspiciously, still not convinced that her tale was completely innocent of deception.

“Aye, we did. It had been Patrick’s home once, and Lord MacDuff insisted that we make it our home. I saw no harm in it. Our apartments looked out over the town, a charming place whose buildings are all the many colors of the rainbow, Hal. We could view the blue sea from our terrace. We had a large bath set out upon the tiled terrace, and we bathed daily in the fresh air, beneath the warm sun. There were flowers in bloom in February! It was a paradise!” Rosamund’s face was alight with the memory.

“You were introduced to the duke,” the king said.

“He was an old friend of Patrick’s. His court is very informal, Hal. We visited several times, meeting a famed artist from Venice, a German countess, your own Lord Howard, and many others. Our servants fell in love there and were wed in a chapel within the cathedral by San Lorenzo’s bishop himself.”

“Lord Howard says this artist, a relation of the Venetian doge, painted you without garments,” the king accused, looking shocked.

“The portrait that hangs in my hall, Hal, is fully clothed. The maestro painted me as the lady defender of Friarsgate. He made my home a castle, which of course it is not. I am surrounded by a sunset. It is quite colorful,” Rosamund said, but then, because she realized the king was very well informed, added, “but he also painted me as a goddess. I wore a Greek chiton that left a shoulder and my arms bare. He vowed he wished to keep that painting for himself, which is why he also painted the other.”

“That portrait now hangs in the Great Hall of the Duke of San Lorenzo, madame! Lord Howard informs me that your naked limbs can be easily seen through the diaphanous draperies you have called a costume and that one of your breasts was quite bare!” Henry Tudor sounded outraged.

“What?” The surprise on Rosamund’s face convinced the king that her own tale was true, as far as she knew. “The maestro sold the goddess painting to the duke?”

Then she burst out laughing. “The duke, Hal, is a man of vast appetites where women are concerned. He would have enjoyed seducing me but that I would not have it. And the artist, as well. These men from the south are quite different from us, I fear. It took all my wits about me to prevent a disaster,” she concluded. Then she said, “My cousin tells me that Lord Howard is back in England. He is not a good ambassador, Hal. He is much too abrasive and rude. He quite irritated the duke.”

“When you returned in late spring you went back to my sister, did you not?” He ignored her remark about Richard Howard. It was not necessary Rosamund know that Duke Sebastian had sent him home to England for the very qualities Rosamund mentioned. It had been most embarrassing, especially as the duke had sent a message with Lord Howard saying he wanted no further English ambassador in San Lorenzo.

“Aye. I had promised Meg I would. She had been delivered then of her son,” Rosamund answered him. Let him ask what he would. She would volunteer nothing unless asked.

“The boy? He is truly healthy?” the king inquired.

Rosamund nodded. “He is strong of limb and heart and mind, Hal. Your nephew is what the Scots would call a ‘braw laddie.’ ”

“And after you had paid your compliments to my sister, you returned home alone?”

“I returned home with Lord Leslie,” Rosamund said. “We decided that we would wed even though both of us had estates that must be husbanded. We thought we could spend part of each year at Friarsgate and part of the year at Glenkirk. Do the high and the mighty not travel between their lands?”

“Yet he left you,” the king said.

“In the autumn, to return to Glenkirk. He wanted his son and heir, Adam Leslie, to know what it was he intended doing. He wanted Adam’s approval, for he had been widowed since his son’s birth.”

“If he was a capable bed partner, and I must assume he was, madame, then I am certain his son would not have been pleased by the thought of having to share his inheritance with another child of his father’s making,” the king remarked.

“Patrick’s seed was no longer potent due to an illness years before,” Rosamund explained. “There was no danger of another child to supplant his grown son.”

“And yet he was a passionate lover, for I know none but could satisfy you, Rosamund,” the king noted.

Rosamund flushed, continuing with her story. “We were to meet in Edinburgh in the spring. I arrived to discover he had suffered a seizure of the brain. Though I nursed him until he was able to travel, not all of his memory returned. He had completely forgotten the last two years of his life. He did not know me at all. There was no possibility, under such circumstances, of our wedding.” Her amber eyes glistened with tears as she spoke now. “His son keeps me informed as to his health, however.”

“You are yet in touch with my sister?” the king asked.

“She sent to me warning of the war to come,” Rosamund said. “You should not have encouraged King James to war, Hal.”

“I?” Henry Tudor sounded outraged with her accusation.

“James Stewart was a good king, Hal. He was a good husband to your sister, and she loved him dearly. You forced his hand because you were jealous of him.”

“Do you seek to visit the Tower, madame?” the king said coldly.

“I say to you the things that no others dare,” she agreed, “but you need to hear them, Hal. James Stewart marched into England hoping to lure you home from France, but instead you sent Suffolk to engage him in battle. But for an accident of fate, Scotland would have beaten you.”

“What accident?” No one had told him this. They had only trumpeted victory.

“The Scots phalanx broke on a slippery, muddy hill,” she said, knowing he would understand the rest.

“It was obviously God’s will that we prevail against the Scots,” the king said piously, and he crossed himself. “God is on my side, Rosamund! He always will be.”

“If your majesty says so,” she murmured, her head bowing.

“But now, madame, what am I to do with you?” he wondered.

“I came to court for two reasons, Hal,” she said. “Because I was summoned and because I wished to introduce my heiress to your majesties. I would return home now.”

“Nay, not quite yet,” he told her. “I am not satisfied that your conduct in the matter of this Scot was not treasonous, madame.”

“God’s wounds!” Rosamund swore. “You know very well it was nothing more than I have told you, Hal. When have I ever been duplicitous with you? With your queen, aye, but only to protect her, but never with you!”

“I think you should accompany the court to Windsor,” he said, smiling suddenly.

“No!” Her look was angry.

“You do not believe that we may have certain unfinished business between us, madame?” he demanded of her.

“Nay, I do not!” Her color was high now.

Reaching out, the king pulled her from her chair and onto his lap. His big hand caressed her heart-shaped face, and then he kissed her a passionate kiss. His mouth demanded far more than she would ever again give him.

Rosamund jumped from his embrace like a creature afire. “Hal! Are you mad? I have but only convinced the queen I was not your mistress, but rather Charles Brandon’s lover, and you would attempt seduction? Do you know how fortunate we were in our brief encounter that we were not found out, given the example of the ladies FitzWalter and Hastings? If Inez de Salinas had not seen us parting that night we might have escaped detection altogether, but we did not. And I have had to weave a tapestry of lies to protect Kate, who is my friend. Do not do this to me! I will not have it!”

“I am your king, madame,” he thundered at her.

“And I am your majesty’s most loyal servant,” Rosamund said, curtsying, “but I will not again be your majesty’s whore. Imprison me if you will for it. But I will not yield what is left of my virtue and my dignity. How can you even ask it of me, Hal? Especially when I strove so hard to protect your reputation with your good queen.”

She saw the look blooming upon his face. He would want to put his bad behavior on her, for in his own eyes Henry Tudor did no wrong. “Madame-” he began, but she stopped him, making it easy.

“If I have misled your majesty in any way, I humbly apologize for it. It was not my intention at all to be provocative or lewd,” Rosamund said, stepping back from him and curtsying once more. “I beg your majesty’s pardon.”

He was silent for a long moment, and she knew he was considering the situation from all possible angles. How could he keep his sweets and yet eat them all up? It obviously proved too much of a conundrum even for him. “You are forgiven, madame. Nonetheless, I would have you come to Windsor. For Kate’s sake, of course. Inez de Salinas has been sent away at last. Your return gave me the opportunity to rid us of her, and for that we thank you. I know you will want to return home to Friarsgate from Windsor, and you have our permission. But bide a few weeks with us. Who knows when you will come to court again?”

“Perhaps never, Hal, but my Philippa will certainly come,” Rosamund said.

He nodded. “Your daughters will always be welcome at our court,” he told her.

“Thank you, your majesty,” she replied.

“You may return to the Great Hall now, madame,” he said.

Rosamund curtsied again and began to back from the room.

“You should really have another husband,” the king suddenly remarked.

“Do not attempt to shackle me to anyone, Hal. Any bridegroom foisted upon me will not live to see the morning after the wedding,” she warned him.

“I am your king, madame! I have the right to choose for you if I would.”

“I have wed thrice for the pleasure of others, Hal,” Rosamund replied. “It was your own grandmother, God assoil her good soul, who said that after a woman had done her duty, she had the right to marry for love.”

“Will you find love again, Rosamund?” he asked.

“Perhaps, Hal, I will be fortunate,” she said, and then she opened the door and slipped into the hallway, where the little page awaited her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, for he had been dozing on his feet. She smiled and patted his blond head. “Take me back to the hall, lad,” she told him, and she followed in his wake as he went.

She had scarcely arrived back at her destination than Tom was at her side. Philippa was not with him. “Where is Philippa?” she asked.

“I have introduced her to several young ladies, all close to her in age,” he said. “A young girl should not be shackled at court to an older relation. Now, tell me at once, dear girl, what has happened?” He led her to an alcove where there was a bench, and together they sat.