A/ N: Can you smell the salt on the air? That's my tears because my slow burn is coming to an end (Slowly, of course, how else? Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast).
But I am already looking forward to the trials they might face as a couple (yeah, courtly life in Renaissance England was no piece of cake) and of course Anne and Henry's relationship and the course of history… or what I'll make of it.
These two replies before the chapter, as they concern historical facts:
ChildofDreams, thank you for your comment! It was actually Edward III but therefore also Edward II, so we're both right ;)
Eleanor Percy (Cat's mother) was a descendent of Joan Beaufort, herself a daughter of John of Gaunt, the third son of Edward III and his mistress-later-wife, Katherine Swynford. Edward Stafford was a descendent of both the same Joan Beaufort and John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, a son of John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford and therefore Joan's brother. Weird, right? I wonder how many Papal dispensations that family needed! Catherine was her own cousin.
A Guest asked whether the Pope really offered a dispensation for Henry Fitzroy and Mary Tudor:
Well, it's a bit tricky. It is stated in a lot of modern biographies, amongst others, Alison Weir, Herbert Tree and Albert Pollard stated it in their books about Henry or Anne (admittedly all popular historiography). I have read it quite a few times in different books, so I did some research a while ago. My sources were my small collection of books on the matter, the university library and the internet though and I only found a primary source by Nicholas Sanders, the guy who said Anne had a wen the size of a chicken egg...Yep. But he was a staunch Catholic and had therefore no interest in denouncing the Pope. He cites letters by Clement to Reginald Pole as his source and I am inclined to believe him in this as the letters are known to other scholars as well. I probably wouldn't cite Sanders in a paper though. So I just thought it made for a more shocking contrast but I would never put that in a proper book/ paper, unless you mention that Sanders is not exactly a reliable source.
Thank you for your review, I love going into this. It just show how little we know and how much influence only one account can have. And I agree, forgiveness and a softer side would have helped Anne and might have saved her...but alas, a leopard can't change its spots.
Anyway, here you go! I didn't proofread as much as I wanted to, so if there's anything, please, feel free to leave a review- feel free to leave a review even if you don't fnd any mistakes of course! Thank you very much.
Whitehall Palace, Late Spring
Catherine
~o~
Vincit Anna Bolena. That was the motto at court these days it seemed. Whatever Anne wanted happened, and no one, not even the king, dared to stand in her way. Henry arrested his old friend half-heartedly, only to release him again. Then he stripped him of all titles and government offices after talking to his council and his sweetheart.
And, as surprisingly as he had stripped Wolsey of his titles after his release, did Henry allow him to keep the title of Archbishop of York and withdraw to the diocese for the rest of his life. Cardinal Wolsey left for Yorkshire in disgrace but alive, though not healthy. All the way to Cambridge, he was followed by London people who threw rotting apples and foul eggs at the priest that had done so much for their king and so little for them.
"Your Majesty, he has deliberately thwarted your plans. He has been more hindrance than help in your negotiations with Rome. The man is a traitor and he got a kinder fate than he deserves."
Anne had not given up. Neither had her allies. Half the court came out of the woodwork to support Lady Anne against the butcher's boy that had dared to rise above them. And Henry was like a nutshell in a wild sea: One wave took hold of him, then another, tossed him to one side, then to the other. His own conscience seemed to be fighting against his will to please Anne, his desire to punish someone for the disappointing outcome of the talks and the necessity to present a scapegoat to make sure that no one doubted the illegitimacy of Henry and Katherine's marriage.
In the end, the king made a decision, swayed by more than just Anne. Cat prayed for the ungodly priest and yet, she had done all she could. Wolsey would die. She pitied him and she had not wished for this outcome but the whole court was against him by now: Those of the old blood had always resented him, those who had less prestigious family trees had often relied on Thomas Wolsey to help them to some office or position at court. Yet, the Cardinal had never had many friends but one and that one friend had deserted him. The court was merry in those days, utterly without control as both the Queen and the Cardinal were absent. The Queen was still in her rooms and dined with the king on sundays, when the people of London came to watch- but she was never present for the feasts and games that became more and more frequent with rising temperatures.
A few days after Cat had spoken up for Wolsey, Anne came to her chambers. She had not called for Catherine at all the past week, so it came as quite a surprise.
"My father says I should send you back to Oxfordshire." She said. "And uncle Norfolk wants to see you up on the scaffold next to Wolsey, judging by the way he talks about you."
Cat had to smile. Yes, the old duke was not the forgiving sort.
"And what do you want, Nan?"
Anne smiled at the old nickname. "I want my friend back."
"I was never gone," Catherine insisted.
"You have not come to my chambers this whole week," Anne complained but she took her old seat by the window.
"I am aware that I am currently not welcome. Your whole faction is against me in this," Cat pointed out, although Anne was of course aware.
"They will turn against me as soon as the king wavers in his affection for me," Her friend conceded. "You would never."
"No." That was the truth. With her dying breath she would fight for Anne.
Anne took her reassurance with a warm smile but it wavered only a moment after: "I still want him to pay."
"I still think you are too harsh."
Anne laughed.
"You will never agree with me, simply because I am now so influential, will you?"
"My opinion does not change depending on your position, Anne."
"You should have married Thomas More, Cat. Really, he'd be a far more fitting match than the-"
She did not finish the sentence because Catherine threw a pillow at her and Anne raised her arms to shield her face.
"You are a wildcat," She grinned. "Do you not want to ask how the duke fares?"
Cat grinned back. Incidentally, she knew how the duke fared. She had spent the whole week with him. Torn between returning to Katherine for good and staying in Anne's chambers, surrounded by enemies, she had chosen to do neither. As always, she spent some time in the old Queen's rooms to do what she was paid for, helped her dress and prayed with her, was a conscientious maid of honour. But the warmth between her and her queen was long lost beyond recovery and Catherine still supported Anne. Katherine had no son and while that was not her fault, England needed a prince. Mary was frail and often ill and there had been too many wars in the recent past. Another civil war would destroy the country and allow the French to swallow England whole.
Brandon had reluctantly agreed with her when they had taken a walk through the park. He had not changed his opinion on Wolsey but they did not discuss this matter. Despite their frequent meetings, Wolsey was still between them, his shadow as nagging as Mary's and the Queen of France's. Cat would do something about it once the whole affair was over. Half the court looked forward to the execution with perverse pleasure but Anne did not. Anne had already exerted her revenge, unbeknownst to anyone but Cat.
Anne had chosen the envoy that had handed Wolsey the royal decree that was his death sentence and her choice had been her final triumph, far more meaningful than ink on paper: Henry Percy, the man she had once loved almost as fiercely as now the king, delivered the royal warrant to Cawood in North Yorkshire and told the old Cardinal that the time of vengeance had come. Wolsey would never see his diocese York.
The Cardinal disappointed half the court by dying on the way and his last words, or what his chaplain Bonner passed on as his last words, caused quite a stir at court: "I see the matter against me how it is framed. But if I had served God as diligently as I have done the King, he would not have given me over in my grey hairs." Of course everyone was careful to never let these words reach the king's ear but whether that was successful, Cat did not know.
The king was pleased though: Even with his death, Wolsey had served him. This way, Henry did not have to execute one of his closest friends and he chose to ignore the fact that it had probably been his brief incarceration and fear that had led to the deterioration of the Cardinal's health that was normally quite robust. He had survived several attacks of the Sweating Sickness...but not the attack of his own king.
Henry lost no time to make More Lord Chancellor - and he would have made Brandon President of the Council, had Norfolk, Anne's uncle, not objected. Certainly, old Howard had not planned to share the office but that was Henry's wish. So instead of pushing Brandon off his chair, he had installed him firmly on one half. Neither of both dukes was satisfied with the solution, their plain dislike for each other did not exactly lighten the mood at council meetings, but Brandon could afford to be generous: As Lord High Steward, he still wielded far more influence than the other duke.
Cat was excited to see him for the first time since he had been raised to the office: THe council had much to talk about and Brandon had chosen not to appear at the festivities in the evening. Today though, there was a masque and Henry would be very cross if his friend decided not to attend. It was a Greek play, the sea nymphs were held captive on an island and were then freed by Greek heroes and then the dinner would start. After the dinner would follow a ball. The costumes for the nymphs were not as decent as the would have been under Queen Katherine's sharp eyes: Seagreen gowns made of a thin silk fabric, with undersleeves of transparent white lace and pearls sewn onto the bodice and skirt. After a brief look at the other maids, she thought they looked like waves, which was probably the intention but still looked a bit silly. The gown was beautifully cut though, although the neckline was a bit too low and her shoulders a bit too bare, but with a few scraps of lace and white silk, she would perhaps be able to transform this gown into a day dress.
Anne entered. Her gown was pure white, but thousands of emeralds were embroidered onto it to create a reverse colour effect that made her stand out even more. She shook her long dark hair and allowed the seamstress to secure a tiara of emeralds and silver on her part.
Everyone else wore pearl headpieces.
"I can almost feel the spray on my skin." She grinned at Cat. They had decided to leave their fight behind them and Anne had grown significantly colder towards her uncle, especially after he had used her to get his hands on Brandon's chair- or at least on one half of it.
Catherine played her part although the mask with the heavy pearl strings dangling from it were really getting on her nerves. She was finally paired with Brandon who looked tired even with a mask on. Her heart sank. Perhaps she had ruined everything that had been between them by her fit of selflessness?
She bowed down to him from the platform that represented the island.
"Congratulations, Lord President." She forced herself to smile.
He smiled back hesitantly. "I-"
He wanted to apologise. Again. This affair was standing between them like the Hadrian's Wall had between the Romans and the Scots and she wanted to tear it down. She wanted him to look at her as he had once, she did not want to stare into these tired eyes and see the weak smile on his lips.
"We have different opinions on everything, from art to justice. I was aware of that, my lord." And still, I feel like we have so much in common too. She did not have the courage to say it though.
"It is strange, isn't it?" He said. "While at the same time-"
He did not finish his sentence but she thought that perhaps, he wanted to say the same, for he swept her from the platform with new vigour and did not let go of her waist even when her feet were firmly on the ground.
"Will I you dance with me later, my lady?"
"Oh, I hope you will dance with me." Too forward, you floosy. She tried too hard-
But he only laughed. "Every single dance, my lady, you will regret your kind-heartedness." He kissed her hand. "Perhaps we find some more things we can fight about."
"Oh, certainly." She had to laugh now, too.
"At least that we agree on", he grinned.
~o~
They had resumed their game. After the wait of a month, some of the tension had died away and she was hesitant again at first...but not for long. Wolsey's shadow had left and there were only the two Marys between them. Yet, Cat found it easy to ignore that most of the time, probably because her heart was pounding in her ears whenever he talked to her, or danced with her or walked with her. May had come and with it the May festivities.
The Queen presided over the official tournament and Anne was suspiciously absent, had withdrawn to Hever in a fit of rage until Henry sent her fifteen letters a day and threatened to travel to Kent himself to bring her back. To celebrate her return, Henry had arranged a tourney only for her. He wore her favour for all to see and declared himself the happiest man on earth. His surcoat matched her scarlet gown and he had gifted her with a hood made of cloth of gold that looked suspiciously like a crown from a distance.
Brandon rode too. And of course he rode well, he was a gifted sportsman and the king's equal in this at least. Cat just wished he'd be a bit less carefree. One participent had been dragged from his horse with a spear in one eye. She really liked Brandon's eyes both of them. And the rest, too. He had asked for her favour and she had given it to him, had sprayed a kerchief with half a bottle of her finest perfume and slept on it before giving it to him. He would do well to survive this tourney unscathed or she would be very mad at him. That was something she was not supposed to say though. Not even to think, in fact, but she couldn't help it. She was scared for him. Especially, when the final tilt came...
~o~
Charles, a few days earlier
~o~
He would ask her for her favour. And he would have to do it before some audacious noble gentleman did it. It were only two days until the tourney, perhaps she had already given it away?
He had to hurry.
"Will you give me your favour for the tournament, Lady Catherine?" He found her in the gardens where she read a book. Something about religion, nothing that interested him, in all truth- though he would read it if she asked him to.
"I dare not." Her smiled was full of mischief. She was playing with him and he felt the familiar excitement rise in him that came with playing with her.
"I would gladly fight a duel for it, my lady." How foolish that sounds.
She rose from the bench and walked a few steps away from him.
"You would have a hard time finding someone to duel you for my favour. Perhaps little Hermes will be up for the challenge."
Hermes was one of Lady Anne's dogs. Charles knew of course that hewould find more than a dozen men who were ready and willing to fight for her, but perhaps not to fight him. His own involvement with her forced other courtiers to withdraw. No one wanted the Duke of Suffolk as his enemy, and least of all for a woman's favour. As annoying as his reputation was, at least it was good for something. No one would try to fight him for a Catherine's favour, especially not after Talbot.
He would not tell her that though, before she decided to rather waste her time on someone of nobler blood and quicker comebacks.
"How else can I win it then?"
That had been the right question for her face lit up. She was enjoying this, he thought. Perhaps, there was even a slight chance she had really fallen in love with him. Only a tiny bit. That would be enough for him for now.
Following a sudden impulse, he reached out for her hand, eager to touch her skin. She seemed surprised but did not withdraw her hand.
She looked at him and for the briefest of moments, a smile played around her lips. But then, she was concentrating again.
"I would say 'Write me a poem' but I would rather not play the martyr."
He pulled her closer for that, as close as he dared here in the open where everyone could see them.
"You are quite impertinent, my lady. We are going hunting tomorrow, and if I catch you, I may wear your favour."
She laughed. "You are making it easy for yourself, Your Grace. You are a far better rider and your horse is fast. If you really want to fight for it, win the archery competition against me tomorrow."
Charles was not a good archer. He considered archers cowards. Brave men did not hide on towers, brave men fought in the battle. She on the other hand was as good as Lady Anne. Many women at court practised archery, many of them more successfully than men, despite their gowns and sleeves. Women had sharper yes, of that Charles was sure. Mary, his Mary, had always seen far more than he had. That was nothing he wanted to dwell on though. He could not really back away from the challenge either although he was certain he would lose. But she was right, he was a good rider and his horse was fast. It would be easy and he enjoyed a challenge, in all truth.
"You are making it easy for yourself then, my lady." He gave back but then he nodded. "As you wish."
"Whose favour will you ask for if you don't get mine?" She asked, playfully, but there was something more serious behind it.
He had no intention to make jokes about this: "No one's. If you do not give me yours, I will fight without female protection." He had meant it as a playful comment but she seemed surprised.
She did not reply to it and changed the topic and he wondered whether he had perhaps been too forward. He was not a good thinker, in all truth.
~o~
Charles had started quite self-confidently and his first arrow had hit the bull's eye. As had hers. His second had gone astray, at least two inches. Hers had not. His next one was better, but not much. It was her turn now and he knew, she would hit the bull's eye again. She would win anyway, unless she missed by more than three inches. Charles did not care for the courtiers' mockery he would likely have to face. But her victory also meant she would not give him her favour tomorrow. He did not deserve it. Suddenly feeling ill-humoured, he turned away but when the courtiers gasped, he whirled back around. Her arrow was next to his. But on the wrong side. On the outer side. It was so perfectly placed, only a little over three inches from the bull's eye, that he knew, she had not suddenly lost her aim. She had lost on purpose. She would give him her colours for the tourney, though not because he deserved it but because apparently, she wanted to. The sun seemed brighter, the breeze far more pleasant and her smile as beautiful as ever.
"You have a good aim." He murmured later, when everyone else was too preoccupied with the buffett and the musicians. She had stayed behind though, stood a few yards away from the pavillion.
The evening not full dark yet, but dark enough to offer him cover. He knew he stood too close to her because he felt the warmth of her body but she did not object. Neither did she take a step backwards. She only looked at him, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"It was a breeze, my lord."
"Of course, what else would it be?" Charles replied. "I promise, I will practise my archery. One day, I will win your favour fairly and squarely."
"Oh, you have." She smiled. "Perhaps not today. But you have."
He should just kiss her. He was quite sure she wanted him to. He should just tell her what he felt. If Henry was right, she was at least fond of him. Perhaps she would say yes. But she had let him win today. He would win at least their bet fairly. If only she weren't so maddeningly charming herself. Everything he knew about seduction seemed shrill and cheap when it came to her.
Despite his good intentions, Charles might have given into his desire to take the kiss there and then had Lady Anne not chosen this particularly ill-timed moment to look for her friend.
Catherine left him reluctantly, he thought, or perhaps he only hoped so.
Lady Anne's tourney was a display of splendour. The king's beloved wore bright red and a headpiece fashioned from cloth of gold. She behaved like a queen and Charles tried to ignore the irritation that grew in him for Catherine and Henry's sake.
Catherine had given him a kerchief of fine white linen, edged with pale green crochet lace. It smelled of her and he would definitely not give it back after the tourney. He had considered to put it under his pillow- and then emptied a jug of cold water over his head. He was turning into a fine pansy.
Charles couldn't help it though, he thought foolish thoughst again and again. Her initials were embroidered onto a corner of the kerchief. C. S. If she ever agreed to marry him, they would have the same initials. Perhaps she would embroider them onto a kerchief then as well. C. B. & C. B. Perhaps not because she hated needlework. She was someone who liked being outdoors and he liked that about her. Perhaps she wouldn't embroider their joint initials on a kerchief because she would never marry him. That seemedfar more likely at the moment, especially given all the impediments that Charles forgot about so conveniently. It was far more enjoyable to entertain the hope that she would say yes, and entertain it he did.
He was set on winning every round for her, ran against younger men and nobler men and beat them all. The final round was against the king. Henry paused for a moment, removed his helmet to have a drink, grinning at Charles from the other side of the tiltyard. Charles grinned back. Catherine was not on the tribune with her friend, instead, she came running down the gravelled path from the castle. She had been there during the last round, he was quite certain. He remembered her cheering for him.
"Catherine!" He walked towards her in armour as Henry was still busy with his servants.
"You fought well." She smiled as soon as she reached him.
"I mean to fight even better."
Her gaze went to the other side of the yard, she saw Henry, still laughing with his men.
"Against the king?" Did she not believe him good enough? He would be able to beat Henry. Henry was a good jouster but Charles had known him all his life. He always aimed a little too far to the right. All Charles needed to do was shift in his saddle.
"Against the king." He tried not to sound offended but she tried to hide a smile so perhaps he had not succeeded.
"No one doubts your valour, Your Grace. I personally value wise men higher than strong men, for they live longer." And then, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He should have shaved better. He felt the urge to rub his cheek and feel whether it was soft but resisted.
"Good luck, Master Brandon." She was mocking him again and he wanted to pull her close but there would be steel plate between them so it was no good.
"Thank you, Mistress Catherine." He gave back and she laughed as she walked away from him. She wanted him to lose against the king. There was honour in letting the king win, she was right, and Herny would thank him for it later, especially in front of his Lady Anne. But Charles was ambitionate in this at least.
He had still not decided what to do when he climbed back onto his horse in full armour, and not when his horse fell into a swift gallop. He brought his lance up instinctively when Henry rose his, he caught the blow although it almost threw him off his horse- and when he looked back up, he saw that his lance was broken. Splinters of painted wood lay in the sand. The king was laughing.
"Another round, Your Majesty?"
Henry looked at Charles.
"No. It's a tie."
~o~
Catherine
~o~
The May festivities were brilliant. Cat felt as if she barely slept, as if it was only sugar and wine in her blood that made her walk and talk and she felt light headed from sunrise to sunset. The Queen was even more lonely these days because for the festivites, Henry had moved to Hampton Court from Whitehall, but left his wife behind. Anne was at his side though, outshining all other ladies like the moon outshone the stars. After the break with Rome, Henry did not even bother to keep up the facade. He openly admitted to his friends and courtiers that he was questioning the Pope's authority and that no matter what impediment Clement had found, Katherine would soon be reduced to his brother's widow and Anne would become Queen of England. He had not visited his daughter in months, probably preparing not only her but also himself for her changed role in the game of power.
These days, neither mother nor daughter mattered anymore. Court was more than ever a place of ambition and cunning, far more than of noble blood and traditions, and the old lords were mumbling and grumbling- but stood no chance against the now powerful gentry, led by Thomas Boleyn and his supporters. They could do as they pleased, nothing they did angered the king, as long as it was Anne who confessed their sins. He paid for slaughtered deer and cows, even paid compensation to a man whose wife had been raped. In the midst of this new, lawless, brighter court was Anne, herself blameless for the development around her but nevertheless its figurehead. She was a Queen in all but name now and decorated her chambers at Hampton Court with richdrapings of purple velvet and cloth of gold. Although it weren't the royal chambers, they looked like it.
Henry approved. He gave her purple gowns to wear and headpieces of gold and gemstones, her servants had their own livery now and her family was always at the top of the table. Catherine was part of Anne's faction now, her place at the future Queen's side unquestioned after Anne had spoken up for her several times. Not even old Norfolk said an unfriendly word although he did not hide his grudge well and spent more and more time in the countryside. No one really missed him.
The court was also younger than ever and the dances and banquets, the masques and garden feasts, the hunting trips and picnics were more frequent and lasted longer than in Queen Katherine's days. Often the king would go on a trip on the Thames, Anne and him and their closest companions in the royal barge, making their way downriver for a picnic. Quite naturally, Brandon was always with them and Cat rarely left his company. She was fully aware that she loved him like she had never loved anyone before. Despite his many attributes that did not match her criteria for potential husbands, he had conquered her like the English had conquered Calais: With perseverance, audacity and hidden qualities. He had still not asked for the wager, something that made her increasingly nervous as she was already throwing herself at him like a Smithfield whore. It wouldn't take long and she would start sitting on his lap like a kitten and visit his chambers without excuses. Perhaps he had lost interest because she was so easy to conquer. Perhaps he had lost interest because he didn't have the endurance for such a long hunt. In that case, she should be relieved. Perhaps he was waiting for something though, for the perfect opportunity to take what she had been willing to give him for such a long time...
~o~
Henry had decided to finally reveal his new garden. Throughout spring, the royal gardeners had worked on an intricate design from France, inspired by the ancient original: There was a maze in the vast pleasure gardens of Hampton Court. The sun was bright and Henry had decided to enjoy the weather with his beloved, his best friend and Catherine, of whom he had grown even fonder in the recent past. She had given the king a taste of a dish that was rarely served at court- loyalty and conscientiousness.
The maze was huge, spanned more than an acre of land, and the hedges were leafy and high and hid the insides perfectly. Henry was giddy as a child before Christmas.
"The gardeners lost one of their men in there and it took him half a day to find his way out again." He warned, but then he grinned: "You go in first, my ladies." He kissed Anne's hand. "And we will try to catch you. Whoever arrives at the centre first wins. Go now, ladies, and be quick." He grinned and Anne and Cat lost no time. The hedges inside were as leafy as those on the outside and soon, they were not sure where they were. "We should seperate." Cat suggested. "It might confuse them and one of us will most likely reach the centre first."
Anne nodded. "Then I'll go this way." She turned to their right but looked back at her friend with a mischievous smile: "Remember Cat, don't be too quick for him to catch you."
"Remember Nan, don't let him catch you too early." Cat grinned back and watched Anne disappear behind a tall hedge, the train of her dark blue gown trailed after her, muffling her steps. Cat turned to the left, towards the centre of the maze, she thought. She was quick, trying to remember her ways, but it was the fun part to always feel a little trapped. Had she not just seen this hedge?
She heard steps somewhere close to her and was not sure whether it was Anne at first. No, these were heavier. Too brisk for the king. Brandon. He was somewhere close to her, perhaps on a few steps away if they were on an open field- but they weren't. Here in the maze, he could still be miles away.
She hurried, tried to find the centre with more determination now. Yes, to the right now, if she had not erred, and now straight on. The steps were behind her now and she started to run. She would not let him win, that much was certain. She looked back to make sure that he was not directly behind her. No, but he could not be far either. She stayed on the same path, confident it would take her to the heart and the prize, whatever it was.
"You better hurry, Lady Catherine." She heard Brandon laugh behind her. "Or I'll catch you."
She could not run any faster than she did now, she was already out of breath and cursed her vanity that had told the maid to lace the bodice tighter. His footsteps were heavier now, he was running too. Not long thereafter, she could see him behind her, not more than ten yards away. She took a bend to her right, not quite sure whether this was the way but too preoccupied to consider the other path. He followed her, so either this was the right path or he did not care about winning at all.
He was faster than her, of course he was. He wore no gown and no corset and he was an excellent sportsman. Right before the next bend, strong hands grabbed her waist and pulled her backwards. She stumbled against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing her against his body. Why had she even run away? This was better than anything the king had to offer.
"I grant you that much, Lady Catherine", he mumbled somewhere above her right ear and his breath was warm and wet on her skin. She was certain he could see the goosebumps that had formed on her forearms and quickly shook back the sleeves to cover her wrists.
"You are very hard to catch." His lips brushed against her ear now, his arms were still wrapped around her, she could not even move her arms but she did not want to anyway. Instead, she leant against his chest.
"I grant you that much." She smiled. "You are quite relentless."
He chuckled somewhere near her ear. His hands started to move now, one caressed her waist while the other one crept up slowly, neglected her chest and came to rest on her collarbone. He blew away some loose strands of hair that had escaped the hairnet at the nape of her neck and she did not manage to suppress a pleasant shudder.
"Does that mean I have persuaded you now, my lady?"
She could still say no and he would let her go, that was what he meant to tell her. His grip around her loosened, his hand left her skin, waiting for her reply. She said nothing, turned around to him with a smile but that seemed reply enough. On his face was the same excitement she felt. Slowly, gingerly, she placed her hands on his broad chest, her fingers felt the black and silver brocade of his doublet, and when he shifted his position, she felt the muscles working underneath it.
The hands that had grabbed her were snaking around her waist once again, a pleasant touch that prompted an odd pulling sensation in her stomach.
"You are too perfect." He muttered, his eyes fixed on hers. "I try to charm you but every time I talk to you, I forget what it was I wanted to say."
She wanted to say that she felt the same but suddenly, her lips were occupied. He tasted of honey and apples. His lips were soft and warm on hers and she melted into his embrace, could not say where he started and she begun, they were one. Heavens, yes she had been kissed before, had kissed before, but never like was not courtliness, this was passion, desire. This was what people wrote poems about, not careful sonnets but those poems that left you shaking and longing. This was consuming and rewarding at the same time, an experience that touched her whole, his strong arms around her, a warm satisfaction inside her that told her that this was exactly where she was supposed to be. She was one with Brandon, breathed his air, and when she felt his tongue against her lips, they parted without any thought, welcoming him. No, she could not think at all, there was no part of her mind that was not utterly occupied with this, he was everywhere. Not for a moment did she stop to consider whether this was appropriate, because it was right, it felt as if this was where she belonged. Her hands had found their way into his hair, pulling him closer. She wanted more of him and was already so overwhelmed that she felt like there could not be more, there was nothing better in this world.
Catherine did not know how long their kiss took but long enough to render them both breathless.
He looked at her, his lips swollen, his cheeks red, his hair a mess, his eyes dark.
"Marry me, Catherine." he said hoarsely. "Please. Words are not my strong point but all words would fail to describe how tenderly, how passionately, how ardently I love you. I have to be with you. I need you. I love you."
He loves me. She had to say yes, of course she had to. She loved him too, there was no one on the face of the earth but him. She was about to say yes when her mind gained the upper hand again.
"I cannot."
His face fell and the fingers on her waist tensed, then withdrew.
"And why not?"
"Because of Mary." She did not dare to look at him, out of fear that she might start to cry and curse her sister. If not for her, she would be happy, with him.
"Leviticus-" Brandon started and she nodded.
"Leviticus...and her affair with you was her demise. How could I-" Her voice broke but he had understood anyway
"Is that the only impediment you see, my lady?" My lady. Impediment. Was he a lawyer now?
She raised her gaze to find him oddly uncomposed. He was in despair. Her heart softened at the sight.
I-" She started, knowing what she wanted to say, still working up the courage, but he was impatient.
"I understand." he said, briskly. And walked away from her, left her alone.
She ran after him but got lost in the maze. Anne found her, saw her tear-stained face and said nothing. She embraced her friend, kissed her on both cheeks and pulled her onto a bench until Cat regained her posture. Nan did not ask what happened, not until they were back in the castle, in Catherine's chambers.
Anne listened to her report, offered her a handkerchief, waited until she had finished. Then, softly, calmly, she started speaking: "But Mary is dead, Cat. She was never his wife. And Leviticus says-"
"But don't you see, Anne? It is all because of him. She is dead because she was sent away. Who knows, perhaps my father would be alive if-"
"This is nonsense. Are you just looking for a reason to be unhappy?" Now, she was more vigorous. "You have everything you want, Cat, right there, you only have to reach out. But instead, you push him away. I think you want to punish yourself. Because you feel guilty for what happened to your sister. For what happened to your father. That is why you tried to help Wolsey, too. You could not save them. You feel guilty because you are still alive, you are here and you have the chance to be overwhelmingly happy. A chance your father and sister had too, once. But they refused. Your sister could have married every highborn nobleman. She could have been Countess or Marquise, but she chose a different path. It is not Brandon's fault, Catherine, but only hers. She had a choice, just like you and me."
Perhaps Anne was right. Perhaps Cat had really made a terrible mistake. Perhaps.
Forgive me. You have no idea how hard it is to actually write something happy. I could write for Grey's Anatomy, really. I'm working on a happy end though (spoiler), so bear with me! There will be fluff and lots of love, far too soon for my cold heart. But perhaps I have to throw in some suffering, just for the sake of it.
Thank you as aways for your kind reviews, they make my day(s).
Xenocanaan: Yeah, it's a trick as old as time but rather successful I think^^. Yeah, Anne's family is bad and I have shamelessly antagonised some of her relatives. European politics will play a part soon enough!I thank you for reviewing, you are very sweet.
Unique16: I thank you so much, I am often rather self-conscious about my language as it is not my first language.
Princess07890: Sorry, Charles Brandon is already taken, I was there first. You're always free to have Henry, if you fancy a bit of a risk though^^ I'll do my best to make them happy, I just enjoy drama so much more! THank you for your continuous support though, I'm almost inclined to give up Chuck Brandon!
TSSKS: Yes! I totally agree, I feel that is exactly what happened. Brandon was one of many who was jealous of Anne and I am considering what effects might change his position...(Dunno, something like a wife that is Anne's closest friend perhaps? And a relationship that develops very differently...As I said, I'm still weighing my options and it's fun!)
MissLaufeyson97: Thank you!I hope I won't disappoint you now!
