CHAPTER TWO: The Quarrel

Anne was still sleeping when the king entered her chambers. When he sat down on the bed she rolled over and reached for him as she always did. His frowning face stopped her.

"You don't like the new maid I chose for you?"

"I never said that!" Anne sat up on the bed, quickly covering herself with a light silk robe. She wished now she hadn't been quite so haughty with young Jane Seymour. The new girl had done her job. In fact that massage had been lovely. But Anne's pride wouldn't let her back down. "I suppose the new girl made some whining complaint about my being too rough on her? I never laid a finger on her Harry, I swear it!"

King Henry VIII looked puzzled. His fiery queen was not the type to apologize for striking a servant – especially not a shy, shapely blonde like Jane Seymour. Yet Anne's face was flushed, agitated, her green eyes like a stormy sea. If she were anyone else Harry would have said she looked guilty.

"The girl came to me in tears," he said finally. "She said you were displeased because she was so nervous."

Anne shrugged. "She was shaking like a leaf while I got undressed. I've never had a maid tremble at the sight of my naked body." The queen laughed nervously, stifling the thought that being undressed by the sweet-faced blonde had made her a bit skittish too. It was all very odd, she decided. "I suppose I must have given her an impatient look or something. Let's not make a quarrel of it, Harry."

"You'll keep the girl."

"My ladies have to be my choice!"

Just like that, they were at it again. Anne hated the way a blonde nobody like Jane Seymour could jeopardize her power over the king. But everyone was dangerous. When tall, dark Harry was boiling mad it didn't matter who or what had offended him. The slightest mistake could be deadly.

"And don't talk to me about your family honor!" he thundered, pacing up and down in front of their massive, rumpled bed. "The Boleyn family is nothing but thieves and degenerates. Thomas Boleyn is a white-haired old thief and your brother – do you know what brother George was accused of today?"

"People accuse him of all manner of things," Anne cried hotly. She tossed her red-gold hair, which was already escaping from the pins Jane had put in so carefully. "The Boleyns are on the rise. George is an easy target. He's young, good-looking, and charming." And greedy, stupid and weak, a jeering voice in her head reminded her.

"Charming George got beaten up by a tailor today," King Henry said, with deadly calm. "But not for being unable to pay his bills. It seems the tailor was to fit him for a new doublet, but then he caught George and his apprentice . . ."

"That's a lie!" Anne Boleyn leapt off the bed in a frenzy. Harry thought she looked like a tiger, with her green eyes flashing and her bronze-gold hair coming down in waves.

The king caught her wrists, and crushed her mouth with his. Slowly, he forced her backwards onto the bed. The queen didn't yield to his fury. She just matched it with her own.

Both of them were angry. But the quarrel could wait.