Chapter 5

Mary strode stealthily through the woods, keeping her brisk pace not only to beat off the bitter cold, but also to evade over-indulgence in her currently woeful state of mind. The conversation with Kenna a few days before had been raw in its painful inevitability.

"More the fool I, for allowing my feelings for you to obscure what I already knew before we were forcibly wed," Kenna had bit out at Bash. "I knew that no woman could ever replace Mary in your heart. But I thought you were really trying to make our marriage something real, something worth believing in and fighting for. Worst of all, I believed you really cared about me."

Mary fought back tears of self-hatred and misery as she pulled her blood-red, velvet cloak closer around her face, her breath puffing out in short white clouds before her. After railing quite rightfully against Mary and Bash's every attempt to explain that they had never intended to end up in this position or to ever hurt her, Kenna had also refused to confirm that she would keep their secret.

"You've got a nerve," Kenna had remarked spitefully, stepping very close to Mary and glaring at her queen fearlessly. "How can you so shamelessly ask me for a favor right after you grind my heart to dust? Please remove yourself from my chambers."

She was all too right, Mary knew. Kenna had her share of foibles and was no stranger to lustful acts of daring herself, as the former mistress of King Henry. But from that impetuous and self-serving girl she had been months ago, Kenna had since matured into someone far deeper. She had risked her life to help Mary on several occasions. And her developing love for Bash had carried her the rest of the way past some dwindling remnants of her previously shallow ways. How had Kenna been repaid for letting her walls down to bond with Mary and with Bash? Mary wiped her tears away with an uncharacteristically rough motion that showed her brutally self-blaming mental state.

Why was Mary hurtling recklessly through the dark and notoriously dangerous woods, heedless of whatever crazed murderers might lurk in their depths? It was her only path to the small cabin where Bash was spending most of his nights following his fallout from Kenna. While Kenna had maintained a chilly facade of forced friendliness with Bash during the day when before the eyes of the royals, Mary wondered how long she would be willing to do even that. Kenna had forbidden him to set foot in their chambers during evening hours, which spoke her true feelings rather eloquently. Why, despite everything that ought to anchor her to the castle and change her mind about the treacherous path she had set out on in this affair with Bash, was Mary defying those moral impulses, those pangs of guilt even? Mary was incapable of bearing the heartbreak that she felt when away from Bash, and she couldn't help seeking out her only comfort.

"I told you not to come here," Bash admonished Mary as he let her into the cabin. "How do you think I would feel if any harm came to you, either from the dangerous sect of pagans in these parts, or from the consequences of your being discovered by Henry or Catherine?"

"Please, spare me your remonstrances," Mary pleaded a bit drily, taking a seat by the blazing fire and pulling her hood back to reveal reddened eyes and a wan expression. "It should be obvious that I could not stop myself from coming here. The love for you which has long had hold of my heart is hardly going to abate now, simply because the whole world opposes us."

"I don't mean to add to your sorrows or to seem condescending," Bash said quietly, kneeling before her on the rug. "But then, I think you know what I meant by my words, equally as I ought to have held them back upon comprehending your situation."

"I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me," Mary suggested, her lips turning up in a slight smile.

"There's nothing I wouldn't forgive you," Bash murmured, his manner turning rather seductive all of a sudden.

"That's apparent enough," Mary replied, sighing as he laid his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, relaxing for the first time in days.

"Let's forget about them all tonight," Bash proposed. "Let's imagine our life as it will be when we are far away from all of these troubles. When we are married and living in Scotland."

"When we are home," Mary said, but could not help questioning, "Do you really believe that day will come? That we will survive the oncoming storm?"

"It's all I can believe in," he told her, reaching up to cup her face in his hands, rising slightly as he covered her mouth with his own. All of Mary's exhaustion seemed to evaporate then, especially as she felt him begin to remove her cloak, raising her expectations about all that would so surely follow.

Mary stood and pushed Bash down into the chair opposite her own, sliding onto his lap and pressing her lips to his demandingly. Bash lifted her leg and let his hand trail upward, making her breath catch as his confident attentions rendered her speechless in blissful abandon. She never had to tell Bash what she wanted or needed. He knew instinctively, smoothly embodying all her desires and fulfilling them with an enthusiasm that made her skin tingle deliciously.

Running her fingers along the smooth leather of his pants, Mary aroused him in turn, causing him to gasp. Before long her back was pressed into the soft rug and she was urging him on as they both let go of every self-deprecating stab of guilt that had them each bleeding inwardly as the days of their separation after returning to France had dragged on. As much as they had invested in concealing their relationship from everyone at court, in working to further their plan to ultimately escape into a life together, that was going to take time - a time far too long for them to endure without tasting moments such as this.

Afterwards, as they lay getting their breath back, clinging to one another, Mary said rather suddenly, "it's time for us to find a new fiancee for Francis. Someone to replace me when we are gone."

"You do flit about from topic to topic," Bash laughed fondly, sitting up and drawing her close, wrapping a blanket around both of them as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire.

"I'm serious, Bash," Mary resumed, "this matter must be dealt with. But what can I do? If only Lola wasn't engaged already to Julian."

"What does Lola have about her that makes her a suitable candidate?" Bash asked, confused. "She's not a noble. Why would Henry or Catherine be likely to accept her in your stead?"

"There is another reason," was all that Mary would share. "But as we must look elsewhere, I should begin to send out invitations to visit the castle, to eligible high-born women who are either from overwhelmingly rich and influential families, or who are actually title-bearers themselves."

"Won't the King and Queen find it suspicious that you are gathering all of these ladies around your own husband?" Bash inquired, worried.

"Yes, which is why the timing must be very precise, and why we must have some kind of an excuse as well, for their presence. Perhaps if we organized a large and opulent dance….Henry would love that, and Catherine could do nothing to prevent it. And we could invite all of our chosen ladies and allow Francis to meet them. He only has to like one of them enough to allow her to stay at the castle under the auspices of being his future bride following our annulment. That will be enough to assuage the initial reaction of Henry and Catherine to my departure." Mary spoke more confidently than she could truly feel. She winced, thinking of how brutal their disapproval might prove. Still, this plan was the best she could do for everyone.

"You want to do all of this at a party?" Bash repeated, shaking his head.

"Do you not agree that this is the best way of bringing it all about?" Mary asked.

"Oh, I cannot help but agree," Bash answered, torn between amusement and grim fears for the future, now that they were embarking upon their plan in earnest. "It's perfect."