(First in a series of spin offs from my story The Song of Songs.This story is dedicated to MrsPhantomSylvia, who not only came up with the idea for this story but also drew me a beautiful picture of Bathsheba and Cromwell. Hope everyone enjoys)

Brief background to the story. Bathsheba West is the daughter of an abusive brothel keeper. After her mother is excuted for killing her father, (it was Bathsheba who really killed him in self defence), she gets a job as a maid to Lord and Lady Dixon. She is seduced by their son, Anthony, who promises to marry her and gets her pregnant. Once Lord and Lady Dixon find out, she is thrown out of the house and seeks help from the nuns of St Agnes. After giving birth to a daughter named Magdalene, Bathsheba becomes a nun, only to leave when Anthony turns up there, as one of Lord Cromwell commissioners. He once again promises to marry her and find their daughter, but in the meantime, he gets her a position as a maid in Cromwell's household.

And it came to pass at eventide, that David arose from off his bed, and walked upon the roof of the king's house; and from the roof he saw a woman bathing; and the woman was very beautiful to look upon- 2 Samuel 11:2

'Your duties are as followed,' said Mistress Scharp, as she showed me around this grand house, 'you will be up when church clock hits half four. You will report to me in the kitchen and help with the breakfasts. The master, very rarely eats breakfast when he is home, so it will be food for the guests and the other servants. After breakfast you will changed all the used beds. Washing is done every Friday, regardless of the weather. You will then be sent to the market or various shops, depending on the households needs. It will then be lunch. After lunch, you will be given various tasks-are you good with a needle?'

'Yes...yes, Mistress Scharp,' I stuttered, as this woman scared me. Anthony had just left me in the hallway, clutching my bundle of belongs to my chest, trying not to cry, when she had approached me. She had beady eyes, which seemed to know everything and she looked me up and down with suspicion.

'One yes will do,' she mutters, opening the door to my attic room, 'now you may unpack your things and meet me downstairs in an hour,'

'Y...yes, Mistress Scharp,'

'And another thing, as there is no lady of the house, may she rest in peace,' she continues, making the small sign of the cross with a finger, 'I am in charge of all the servants and while I do not know how things were done at your last place of employment-thought I imagine it was pretty lose, if you were forced to take the veil. I do not care what you have done in your past but I will take no whoring from my girls, do you understand?'

I nod my head and reach for my rosary, prayer under my breath as I run my fingers over the beads, as Mistress Scharp looks on with a raised eyebrow.

'Good,' she replies before leaving me alone and I fall to the floor with my rosary and feverishly prayer to God.

'Those pillows are new, are they not?' I remark, as I sit down in the study, Joanne standing by the desk, holding the household accounts, 'Joanne what have I told you about splashing out on such luxuries,'

'I didn't,' replies Joanne, my housekeeper of many years, in her no nonsense tone, 'it was the new girl, Bathsheba West. She's very handy with a needle,'

'The wife of King David,' I smile, taking the accounts from her, 'how is she settling in?'

'She's quiet, but nice enough,' Joanne shrugs, 'very pious. Use to be a nun,'

'Not too pious then,' I laugh, as Joanne gives a brief smile, 'I will return the accounts once I have finished with them, though I am sure it will all be in order,'

I miss Anthony. I miss Magdalene with all my heart but I like it here. The other servants are nice and I find it easy to get on with them. Even Mistress Scharp turned out to be nice, though she can be stern at times. I haven't seen Lord Cromwell yet, as he is away with the Court but I don't let my mind think on him. Life is going well and soon me, Anthony and Magdalene will be a family.

'THERE is a fashion in this land,

And even come to this country,

That every lady should meet her lord

When he is newly come from sea,'

I know I can't sing but that never stops me when I'm happy. As I go about washing the sheets and clothes in the yard, I do it with gladness, as I picture, me and Anthony together, watching out little Magdalene, who will soon be two, play in the garden of the house we will soon call home. I lean into the large bowl of warm, soapy water, scrubbing hard at the shirts as I daydreamed. I must have been staring at the house, because I was suddenly aware that I was being watched from one of the upstairs windows, causing me to jump with fright, as I realised the man with the observant dark eyes and the sly smile is Lord Cromwell!

I fell my chest tighten as I see him and panic. He is Lucifer, Cecily had said, he is evil! I fell so cold as I returned to my work, my daydream completely gone from my mind. I had sinned and am still being subjected to my penance.

She is beautiful-she cannot hold a note but she is beautiful. The Court is filled with ladies, who spend their days, putting in every effort they can to make themselves Helen of Tory, but she does not need their potions to make her beautiful. When I saw Bathsheba in the yard and then later, stood at the foot of my desk, I couldn't help but think on her, with her striking green eyes and her hair, which seems to have a mind of its own. She seemed so nervous, I do not want to her to be scared of me...but then I should not be thinking about her in such away.

He was kind to me. He asked a lot of questions, but he didn't seem evil. I was so scared, that I crossed myself several times before I entered the chamber and my hands continued to shake, throughout my time there, yet I feel almost at easy. He smiled at me kindly and he called me by my Christian name throughout-something Lady Dixon never did-she would just snap her fingers at me and call me 'girl'.

Maybe I was wrong. Cromwell isn't Lucifer and maybe God is nearing closer to forgiving me.

She kisses me so passionately, it almost feels as she is biting me and I want more. I roll her on to her back and pull away from her for a moment and stare at her beautiful face and body, which like mine has beads of sweat over it. I had forgotten how sweet the sensation of feeling a woman's body so close to mine was.

'I want you, Thomas,' she groans, placing a hand on the side off my face and her striking green eyes, stare seductively into my soul. I lean forward and kiss her, our arms wrapping themselves around each other so tightly that every inch of our flesh is now touching. We gasp and groan as our bodies surrender to each other. She smiles wickedly, as she uses her strength to roll our bodies, so that she is now on top...

BANG

My head hits the side table by my bed, as I topple out of the bed and on to the floor. I feel dizzy and can taste bile in my mouth as I open my eyes. It was a dream-a dream in which I was bedding my maid. It is far removed from dreams that usually plague my sleep, dreams that I do not want to think about at this time of the day, but nor should I be thinking about my young maid in such away.

Anthony is drunk! How could he? He knows how much I hate him getting into that sort of state-my father use to get like that every day and then he'd turn his fists on me and mother. But worst of all, he has failed in his errand for Lord Cromwell! He knows he needs his position with Cromwell, if his father is to forgiven him for getting me with Magdalene. It's not just this, he hardly meets me at the market nowadays and when he does, he is snappy and uncaring, but he's just working too hard-that must be it.

I take the message for Lord Cromwell, having to face the watching eyes of the men in the law courts but it is done and I think nothing of it, until I am summoned to Cromwell's office-he knows it was me, not Anthony! He throws Anthony out of the office and I breakdown in tears, fearing that I will lose my position and my home all at once, but I don't. Instead, he gives me some money, as wages for delivering that letter and he keeps me there talking. He shows me two skulls, that his commissioners have taken from the monasteries and are meant to be the skulls of St Cuthbert. We talk about faith and hope, but then he stops and goes cold, telling its time I went to bed. I feel hurt but I do what I'm told, happy that I still have a place in this world.

She loves him! She is in love with him! The bastard has her heart. My blood boils as I think on it. How could she love that worthless bastard, Dixon? He is a worthless piece of dirt, who has never done a day's work in his miserable life. Bathsheba is beautiful and kind; he is weasel and deserves nothing but contempt.

Bathsheba had tears in her eyes, as I asked her about the message. I had to suppress any urge I had to put an arm round her and tell her what a bastard her lover is, that she should be...I liked having her to talk to. She is clever, though I do not think she realise how clever. As I heard her talk about hope and faith, I knew there was more to Bathsheba than sewing and cleaning. I also could tell that she and I...but I must not think on that, I should be working on this Bill for Parliament.

'What did he say?' asked Anthony, grapping hold of my arm and pulling towards him, as we meet outside the house's gate, 'did he fire you?'

'No,' I reply, trying to knock his arm off of me but he tightens his grip, 'Anthony your hurting me!'

'Good, good,' he mutters, letting go of me, 'you do not think he knows about us? God, you do not think he will inform my father,'

'I don't know, but he's clever,' I reply, thinking back on Cromwell's words last night. I don't think he does, but I think maybe his words were hiding something, 'and kind, so I don't think he'll tell your father, if he does know,'

'Kind,' roared Anthony, throwing his blonde head back with laughter, 'I've heard Lord Cromwell called many things but kind not being one of them. You always were a silly mare, Bathsheba,'

I smile, knowing Anthony is right, I never have been clever. I slip my arm into Anthony's and kiss him on the cheek.

'I know Anthony...but what does it matter, if he tells your father about us? After all, he will find out about us when we get married, won't he,'

He pulls away from me then, as he gets worried about us being seen together, as he wants to tell his parents in his own time, when it is right, as they are still recovering from his sister eloping with man they hate with more passion than me.

'Of course, Bathsheba,' he smiles, looking over his shoulder, 'soon, but not yet,'

I see her walking back towards the house, a smile playing on her lips as her hair starts to fall out from under that white cap she wears. She looks so beautiful, unaware that I have heard everything that has passed between her and that spoilt brat.

'Morning Bathsheba,' I say, as she comes closer to me, 'I trust you are well,'

'Yes, sir,' she smiles, as she curtsey and I have to suppress any urges inside me, 'thank you, sir and thank you for the money,'

'Just remember, that it is your wages and your wages alone. Do not go spending that money on anyone else,' I reply, as the stable lad brings me my horse, 'thank you,'

'Are you off to court, sir?'

'Yes, Bathsheba and could you please inform Joanne for me that I will not be home tonight, so you will have the evening to yourself, instead of having to wait for me to eat,'

'Yes, sir,' she replies, trying to push her hair back under her cap, 'but I rather enjoy bring you your meal,'

We both smile at each other. I want to tell her, that I take pleasure in her bring me my evening meals but I know I cannot. She is only a few years older than my son and is in my employ. I am responsible for her safety and care, and I will not take advantage of her.

'Good day, Bathsheba,' I mumble, mounting my horse and ridding away from my house and her, as quickly as I can.

I love my new dress, though it's not really meant for work and Mistress Scharp casts a disapproving eye, as she see me in it. The pale green suits the colour of my hair and eyes. I brought the fabric with the money Lord Cromwell gave me for delivering that message. Despite my fear of him at first, I find myself liking him more and more, but I find him difficult to understand. He always speaks with me and is kind but then he'll go distant, making up a reason for one of us to leave...well, no matter-I hope Anthony likes my dress. He's been so kind recently and has once again spoken about us getting married. I love him so much and I long for the day we will be reunited with our daughter.

He broke her heart. He broke her heart, not once but twice! The first time leaving her leaving her pregnant with his child! The man is a bastard, who deserves nothing but contempt and misfortune. Dixon has never done an honest day's work in his life, yet he has money and is the heir to titles. He abused her and let them take her daughter away from her.

I knew he'd break her heart, thought I did not expecting her to brake his nose in return. I could not help but laugh as Bathsheba threw her punch-she threw a right hook that would put most men to shame but she looked so sad as she fled from the room. I ordered Dixon and his pompous future father-in-law from my house, telling them to forget any help from me at court and go to find her.

I wanted to comfort her, to make her pain go away. I told her about God and let hear his powerful words in English for the first time in her life. Staring into her eyes, I saw her pain go away but it was never my intention...

He is so caring and I tell him all my troubles. I tell him about the empty promises Anthony made and about my daughter, who was taken from me moments after her birth. As I speak, I feel I shouldn't be telling him this, he's my employer but he speaks so passionately as he comforts me that I can't stop the words escaping from my mouth.

'Do you prayer?' he asks me and I replied that I do and that I prayer every day. He suggests we say a prayer together but not in Latin-in English! He teaches me the words of Paternoster in English, his amazing eyes staring straight into mine and my soul. My troubles go as we say 'amen,' I suddenly want to feel love, to feel the arms around me of someone who cares for me. I hold Cromwell's hand against my stomach. I know he does not love me, but the way he has spoken to me shows that he cares for me and probably more for me than Anthony ever did.

I run my hand, gently up the side of her body. Underneath the soft fabric of her dress, I can feel the warmth of her body and as my hand catches the side of her breast, I find myself surrendering.

It has been seven years, since Elizabeth was taken from me and I have not thought about another woman since that day, except Bathsheba. She has plagued my mind since the first moment I laid eyes on and while I hesitate, I know it would be wrong to deny that I want this. I can look after her, I can protect her. I love her and I hope Elizabeth understands-the last thing she told me, was to be happy.

'Not since my wife,' I whisper, pulling her to me. Her body is a warm as I imagine and as her hips fall against me, I realise that our body will fit perfectly together but it's been such a long time...

I place my arms round his neck and as I look up at him from under my eye lids and I can see fear in his eyes, though I know he wants me-why else would he hold me so tightly to him, if he doesn't want me.

'I don't bite, sir,' I say, as lean forward to kiss him, but the moment my lips meet his, he kisses me with such a passion that I didn't know it was possible to have. He holds me so close that our bodies are almost crushed together.

'Sir!' I cry in despair, as his mouth pulls away from mine. My body is pierced with heat and longs to shed my dress and for us to give in to desire-I don't want to lose him. He places a hand on the side face and lightly strokes my cheek, before kissing me again, but this time more gently.

'My Bathsheba,' he whisper, bushing away my lose hair, as he starts kissing my neck, his lips touching a sensitive spot at the base of my neck, causing moans to start escaping from my lips, as he takes me in his arms.

I carry her to my chamber, in that brief moment not caring if we are seen by anyone. I am human and long to be reminded of that fact.

A fire has been left in the chamber, making the room already burning with heat, as I lay Bathsheba down on my bed. Her hair tumbles around her, making her look even more beautiful in the fire light.

'Don't you ever take this off?' she asks, seductively, as I lean into kiss her and her fingers play with my chain of office.

'It's the property of the King's,' I laugh, kissing her, 'only he has the power to take it away,'

'And me,' she cries, pulling off the chain and dropping on the floor, 'I want just you, sir,'

I lift her on to my lap, not caring about where that chain, which I have worked all my life for, has fallen. I want to be flesh and blood again. I want to be simply a man with emotions again. I want Bathsheba and while I cannot bring myself to say the words aloud, I love her.

'I want you sir,' she murmurs as she kisses me and I undo the ribbons of her dress, 'I just want you,'

She unbuttons my doublet, as I push her dress down away from her shoulders, our eyes locking throughout. I lie her back down on the bed, continuing to push down her dress and skirts, her soft skin hot underneath my hands.

I pull his shirt over his head and run my fingers down his firm chest to the top of his breeches, though once they are removed, he doesn't enter me straight away. He kisses me, tenderly, his body lingering over mine, despite the desire between us but when he does, I cry out in delight that builds to a more powerful pleasure every time he re-enters me slowly.

'Bathsheba,' he gasps, as we make love, 'my Bathsheba,'

Afterwards, we lie facing each other, amid a tangle of sweat soaked linen. With a lazy smile, he puts a hand over my naked waist and pulls me against him. Still feeling my body tingle with the delicious feeling our love marking has brought me, I snuggle against him, kissing him deeply on the lips.

'Did they teach you that at St Agnes?' he laughs, running his fingers through my hair.

'And do you often sleep with your serving girls,' I tease, kissing him lightly this time.

'No, only you,' he replies, running a finger down the my cheek, 'only you,'

I stare into his eyes and at that moment, though I wouldn't call it love, I wanted it to me and only me, he wanted. Just me and him, no one else, until the day I take my last breath. I didn't want him to think on any other women but me. I felt so safe in his arms and the thought of another, being the one he wanted filled my heart with jealousy.

We kiss with such passion, that she forces me on to my back, pinning my wrists down on the pillow above my head.

'Do you like, sir?' she whispers, as she moves her lips away from mine, down my neck and on to my chest. God, the feeling of her hair on my skin is... I cannot take much more, as I feel it bush against me. I want her again and again.

'Yes,' I gasp, as she straddles me and I put my hands on her hips , 'yes, Bathsheba,'

We collapse in a heap on the bed, which I'm surprised is still standing after tonight. My body feels as though it is about to breath its last, after the intensity of the what has passed between us tonight. Looking over to Bathsheba, I smile, running my fingers through her damp hair. Her body trembles as I take her in my arms and kiss her gently on the forehead, as she rests her head on my chest. It is then I see them, covering her back. Large, long deep red marks put there by a whip or a belt. They look so painful; they must have bled so much. I feel my blood boil as I see them-whoever did this to her must pay! I will sign their death warrant first thing tomorrow, but now I just hold her in my arms and swear to God that I will never let anyone harm her again.

What have I done? Sleeping with my employer? What will happen now? What if someone finds us? God, the amount of noise we made, someone is bound to have heard? I need to get out of here.

I slip from underneath Cromwell's arm. Suddenly, the heat in the room has gone and I feel goose bumps appear over my body, as I reach for my dress, which lies on the floor where he threw it, but as I reach for it, I feel him gently catch hold of my arm.

'You are cold,' he whispers, 'come back to bed,'

I hesitate but he reassures me, that no one will find us and as he speaks, his eyes are so soft that I cannot resist him, so I climb back under the covers and he returns his arms to my body and holds me against him.

'From the roof he saw her bathing,' he mumbles, sleepily, stroking my hair, 'and she was very beautiful,'

Bathsheba returns from taking the dinner plates to the kitchen. I watch her with a smile, as she locks the office door. I've been away for almost a week and God, how I have missed her! Not just the movement of her hips and what they promise but seeing her smile and hearing her voice.

'The household gone to bed, sir,' she say, leaning against the bolted door, playing with a lose strained of hair, as her green eyes stare at me innocently, 'I think its time we joined them,'

'As tempting as your offer is, Bathsheba,' I reply, temped beyond belief to throw down my quill and go with her to my...our bed chamber. Its been four months since we first started...and I enjoy ever hour of the day knowing that I will no longer be alone once darkness falls. It's not physical nature of what passes between. It's feeling a warm body besides mine, feeling her breath on my chest, as she sleeps in my arms; knowing that she will still be there, come the morning light, 'I need to finish this letter,'

'Is it really that what you want, sir,' she sighs, coming over to me and putting her hands on my shoulders, 'or is it that the ladies at court have worn you out?'

'Only you do that, Bathsheba,' I groan, as her hands start to massage away the knots in my neck, 'only you,'

'Cromwell!' snaps the Kings, bringing me out of my thoughts, 'Cromwell!'

I leave my thoughts of last night in my office and return to the here and now. The King is stood before me, with a look of anger on his face-its a regular feature nowadays.

'Yes, your majesty?' I reply, swallowing hard, before I speak.

'Are you ill?' he sneers, moving closer to me, so that I now feel his breath on my face . I meet his gaze and for a moment, fearing what I am about to say, (Queen Anne still has not given him, his much 'needed' son), he takes a step back.

'No, your majesty,' I reply, shaking my head, 'just tired,'

My mind leaves the Council chamber and returns to my office last night, with Bathsheba massaging my neck.

Her thumbs circle the base of my neck, pressing hard on the tense muscles in my neck with a passion. I groan as I surrender to her to her quickly.

'You work too hard, sir,' she whispers, in that way of hers, that is both sweet and teasing at the same time, 'you should tell the King you need a rest,'

I put a hand on top of hers and she stops, as I stroke the top of her hand. I love the feel of her skin, which is soft but has an edge to it, a hint of the years of hard work she has gone through. Pulling her towards me, her hair starts to fall out from under that cap she wears and as she sit's down on my lap, her green eyes meet mine, showing that she is thinking the same as me.

'I'm far from tired, Bathsheba,' I smile, removing the cap from her head and letting her long thick hair full down around her, brushing against my skin as it tumbles down, 'far for tired,'

'Just tired,' snorts the King, 'what have you to be tired about? It's not as though you have a kingdom to run!'

'mm,' I mutter, deciding it is best to ignore his remark and start thinking on Bathsheba mouth on mine, our tongues deep in each other's throats. My body starts to feel itself over come with heat and desire-I have given up with my work for the night, acts of Parliament do not keep you warm at night.

'Shall we go to bed,' I gasp, breaking away from her soft lips. Bathsheba smiles wickedly, as she pulls away from me, so she is now perched on the edge of my desk.

'No,' she laughs, shaking her head from side to side as she place one of small, bear feet on ever side of my chair and leans forward. Her fingers play with the chair around my neck, as desire starts to flow even stronger threw me with the sight on the tops of her breasts poke through the top of her dress. Then she pulls me to my feet, by my chain and then towards her, so that our mouths are almost once again touching, 'no, sir. I want to stay here,'

'That's an interesting bite mark on the side of your neck, Cromwell,' remarks the King, raising an eyebrow, as his little cronies Suffolk and Bryan snigger like schoolboys. At this moment, I find myself missing More, because although he was many things, at least he not behave like an spoilt child in Council.

'I am afraid,' I answer, trying not to smile as I remember the passion with which Bathsheba and I attacked each other last night, 'I do not understand what your majesty is speaking of,'

'mm,' he sighs, before someone interrupts with their feelings on the vacant title of Earl of Hertfordshire.

'Bathsheba,' I laugh, as she starts unbuttoning my clothes, 'we can't,'

'Why not, sir,' she smiles, wrapping her arms round my neck and she wraps her legs round my waist, 'don't tell me you haven't thought about this, on all your lonely nights away at Court?'

She had me then, I have thought of us, in many different ways, on my nights away from her. I run my hands up her skirts, pushing them back as I do so and pulling her towards me.

'Sir,' she gasp, throwing her head back, as we...

'Cromwell!'

'I agree, your majesty,' I cry, knowing it's best to always say that, even if you do not agree, then change tact later.

The King stares at me briefly, before turning his attentions elsewhere. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Bryan whisper something into Suffolk's ear, causing the both of them to chuckle.

'Something seems to have amused your grace,' I ask, turning to glare at the both of them but trying to keep a smile on my lips-God, I hate these two.

'Bryan was just voicing the absurd opinion that you've found yourself a little woman to play with,' grins Suffolk, in that smug way of his, 'though, he cannot possible be right. I mean how low must a woman must be to open her legs to you,'

I clench my fists in anger, trying to suppress every urge inside me to snap his neck. I do not care for is slight at me-it's his comment over Bathsheba that makes my blood boil.

'I think your grace is getting confused,' I reply, in the coldest tone my voice can manage, 'with the women he finds in his bed chamber,'

Bathsheba would never give those two bastards a second glace. She is too good for them. She is too good for me also but I, unlike them, would never treat her as if she is just a plaything. Bathsheba is flesh and blood with a heart in need of love and protection.

'Bathsheba,' I moan, as her legs pull me even further inside her and I tighten my hold on her, as the two of us move frantically in rhythm with each other, 'Bathsheba,'

'Sir,' she groan, before letting out a load cry as she digs her nails through my shirt into my back. Hearing cries and feeling her nail, dig deep into my flesh, I cannot take any more. I release with a shout.

'I think your majesty should be aware,' smirks Bryan, with a small snort of laughter, 'that Lord Cromwell seems to have left his mind and body between the thighs of his little whore,'

'You have a woman, Cromwell,' ask the King, with surprising bitterness, as he turns to look at me, 'I thought you were against such licentious behave,'

'Yes, your majesty,' I reply dryly, 'but I think it's more important to discuss the serious business of government, than my lords Suffolk and Bryan's pointless gossip,'

'Then keep your mind on the business of government!'

Her body trembles afterwards as we later lay side by side in bed, even though she like me is burning with heat. I pull her to me and hold her against me, as she rests her head against my chest.

'Sir?' she starts, then falls silent. I wish she would call me by my Christian name.

'Bathsheba?'

'Nothing sir,' she paused, before saying, 'we have fun together, don't we,'

'Yes, Bathsheba,' I laugh, kissing her on the top of her head as I remember our adventures on top of my desk and later, twice on the feathered mattress of our bed, 'yes we do,'

It's mid afternoon but I can still fell the touch of his mouth and his hands all over my body, as I go about my work. We made love three times last night, one time on top of his desk; I can still fell his rough hands on my the top of my tighs as he pulls back my skirts...

'Bathsheba!' calls Mistress Scharp, bringing me out of my thoughts, 'I need you to go up to the back bed chamber and bring me down the sliver candlesticks. Lord knows where the others have gone but I strangle them myself, when I find the churl whose taken them!'

The back bed chamber was never used as a bedroom but more of a place to store furniture and other belongings that were no longer in use. I had only been in there once, to retrieve some plates that the French Ambassador had given Cromwell. Out of the corner of my eye, I had seen some dolls, which I guessed belonged to his poor daughters, Anne and Grace. He had told me about them on one of the nights when we had just sat there and talked-I could see how much he missed them. We didn't just make love, some nights we would simply talk, before going to bed, where I would fall asleep in his arms.

I couldn't find the candlesticks. They were not in the box where Mistress Scharp said they would be. As I search for them, my skirts bush up against a sheet, knocking it off, revealing a portrait that was leaning against the wall. I turn round, picking up the sheet to recover it, but before I do, I look at the pretty woman smiling back at me.

She has long, pale brown hair and even lighter brown eyes. Her skin too, is very fair, in the English rose way that all well born woman are trying to copy.

'She's so beautiful,' I think, as kneel before the painting and run a hand down the canvas. It's then I realise who this portrait is of-its Cromwell's departed wife. I feel tears in my eyes then, though I try my best to stop them.

I love him, I realised that long ago, on the night when I told him about the day I watch them take my mother's life for killing my father. The way he comforted me and held me in his arms, made me feel so safe that I knew then I never wanted to be anywhere else. I almost told him my sinful secret, but held my tongue for fear of losing him...but would he ever truly be mine? Would he ever love me?

She was truly beautiful, I was not. My hair was a mass of curls that never stayed in place, not straight and graceful, like hers had been. My eyes were green, like a cat, not an elegant brown. She was from a good family and I was the daughter of a brothel keeper. She had been a wife and I was...I was...I was a sinful whore...he would never truly want me...not as a wife or the mother of his children.