A/N- Just a quick note to say I have briefly edited the first two chapters of this story. Happy reading!

Bessie walked back into the ballroom, her mind wandering about her strange encounter with the young man who called himself Edward. She could still feel his steady hands on the laces of her dress, both of them catching their breath as they stood close together. She thought about how he greatly irritated her, but she also reflected upon his humour, and his teasing smile.

Her eyes quickly scanned the ballroom, hoping to see Anne in her crimson dress. She desperately wished to confide how she was feeling with her friend, but she also remembered that Anne had wished to tell her something important when she pulled her away from the King of France earlier on.

After searching for ten minutes, Bessie gave up. She was suddenly overcome with tiredness and resolved to return to her rooms in the palace. She hoped that Anne had already retired there for the night.

…..

Walking down the beautiful, gold corridor towards her chambers, Bessie's head was still a mess. She thought in part it was due to all the delicious wine she had consumed, but knew it was all down to her meetings with the Kings of England and France, as well as Edward.

Of course, she had had numerous French noblemen trying their luck with her over the past few months. But she had never felt anything like the way they had all made her feel tonight. Thoughts of Edward, in particular, made her heart flutter.

"Bessie."

A familiar voice startled her from her thoughts. It came from behind her. She just had to turn left and she would be in her chambers. She knew the voice, however, and she knew she could not ignore it. She slowly turned around.

King Francis wandered into the light in front of her, his handsome face surveying her carefully.

She swept a quick curtesy, "My Lord," she said, looking down.

He walked towards her and raised her from the curtsey, holding her hand, and intently looking at her upturned face.

Bessie felt that strange flutter in her heart and stomach again as he gazed at her. She was greatly drawn to him and, as if in a trance, she did not resist as he quickly pulled her into an alcove within the corridor, where a curtain could be drawn across for privacy.

"I cannot stop thinking about you," he said, as his hands move to hold her waist. "Please let me have you."

"I cannot be your mistress, my Lord," she said, still looking up at him as he hold her close to him.

"Why? I will give you everything you desire."

"As you did with Mary?" she retaliated and drew away from him slightly. She knew she was playing with fire, being so direct with the King of France could cost someone their position at court after all. But she knew he was consumed with desire for her.

"Mary was a quick distraction. With you it feels different…please let me show you."

He leaned towards her and caught her waist again, caressing her cheek carefully with one of her hands. She wanted to both turn away, but also let herself give in.

She tentatively chose her second instinct. She was young and curious, after all, and wanted to experience what the poets and musicians raved about at court.

She saw his lips smile briefly before coming down onto hers with strong intent. As their lips worked together, she carefully tangled her hands in his hair which seemed to spur him on further. He backed her up against the wall of the alcove and she gasped when she felt her back hit the solid wall.

He drew away slightly and bent his head to start kissing down her neck. She moaned at the sensation as his head raised to meet her lips again.

They both pulled away. "Come to my chambers with me," he said, breathing heavily as he took in her dishevelled appearance.

"I cannot," she said, looking at him directly in the eyes.

He embraced her again in a more dominant kiss, and she could not resist his advances.

"You are beautiful, Bessie," he murmured between kisses.

Her head titled back, Bessie was enjoying the sensation, until she felt one of his hands try and pull up her skirts. Snapping back to reality, she realised she would not be able to stop him soon if she let him continue. Guilt and conflicting emotions started to wave over her at what she was doing.

"No, my Lord, I cannot," she said and he stopped to look at her. Gently pushing him away, she pulled back the curtain from the alcove and looking to make sure no one was there, walked quickly down the corridor.

"Wait, Bessie!"

She heard him walking after her.

Hurriedly, she turned left to her chambers and opened the door, quickly shutting her door behind her and gasping.

"Bess?"

Anne was sat at the dressing table, brushing her hair. Standing up, she walked towards Bessie and held both her arms. "Are you okay?"

Bessie hugged Anne tightly and nodded her head.

"What happened?" Anne asked, concern written across her face.

"King Francis just kissed me."

Anne looked shocked, but before she could say anything Bessie continued.

"Oh Anne, I know I should not have let him. It did feel wonderful, but now I feel wanton and stupid. I pulled away when I thought he was trying to go too far, do not worry. And I refused to go to his chambers and be his mistress," she rambled.

Anne nodded. Turning away from Bessie, she paced around the room. It was what she she tended to do when she needed to think quickly.

"But Anne, I know it was wrong, it felt wonderful, I-"

Anne stopped and looked at Bessie. "Remember what we promised Bess? He will ruin you if you let this continue. Anyway, it will not be an issue."

"What do you mean?"

"I was speaking to my father, and yours, all evening. They want us to return to England."

Bessie looked at Anne in shock. "Why?"

"My father has a task he wishes me to complete. It will mean I will not have to marry the Irish gentleman," she said, her eyes excited.

"What task?" Bessie asked. She was now thoroughly concerned. Thomas Boleyn was just as scheming as her own father.

"I am to divert the King of England's attention from his wife."

Bessie was stunned. For a moment, she did not say anything. Anne looked oddly thrilled at the prospect.

"But Anne, we said we cannot be any man's mistress. You have just said so yourself with myself and King Francis!" Bessie exclaimed.

"Oh, I will not be his mistress."

"Then what?"

"I will simply divert him. It will not be tricky to flirt with him."

Bessie knew what was driving her closest friend's excitement: ambition. She knew Anne wanted an ambitious match, preferably in England or France, and firmly did not want to marry an Irish lord. Bessie also knew the power that Thomas Boleyn could wield over his daughter. He was a manipulator, after all.

Bessie did not know how to comment on Anne's 'task' and decided to leave it for a moment. "And what of me, Anne? Why do they want me to return?"

Anne looked abashed.

"I believed Norfolk wants to find a husband for you, Bess."