Chapter Forty-Two: Tell Me Everything
Jamil Khan rapped on the bedroom door. Mary was sitting at the dressing table in her pajamas, brushing out her short, lustrous brown hair before bed.
"Who is it?" Mary scowled at her reflection in the mirror.
"Don't you recognize your own husband?" Gliding into the room, Jamil put his hand over his heart. The gesture was playful, almost boyish. Yet his midnight black eyes held a grown-up hunger.
"I haven't seen you all week." Mary went back to brushing her hair, turning her back on the tall, dark male in the bespoke suit. "Why did your office cut off the funds for my investigation? I spent the whole day arguing with your Dublin staff!"
"Bridget's death has been ruled an accident." Mary's husband drew up a chair directly behind her, his eyes meeting hers in the fancy mirror. "We've been overruled, Mary. By the crown."
"My father doesn't want to make enemies in Ireland." Mary's shoulders drooped. Bridget had lied to her, and stolen from her. The sexy Irish film star had even made a secret video of the two of them having sex in front of the fire on a bearskin rug. But Mary knew that Bridget's childhood had been full of abuse.
Abuse she suffered at the hands of the church in Ireland.
"Aren't you going to get angry?" Jamil asked. "Aren't you going to insist that we shut down the girl's school and demand a public investigation of the bishop's personal finances?"
"We both know that's not going to happen." Mary suddenly felt exhausted. She didn't even bother to pick up her expensive Balmain brush and resume her usual bedtime routine.
"No, it won't." Jamil tugged the brush out of her hands. "McCloskey's out, Mary. The bishop decided to step down."
"Without a public investigation." Mary's triumph was hollow. She had been hoping for a chance to confront the church fathers over the treatment of women in Ireland. She sighed deeply.
"We won, Mary." Jamil was brushing her hair. Mary felt herself starting to relax, and she fought the unexpected feeling. "I just gave the old man a little push. Some things are better handled behind closed doors. You see, I know all about you and Bridget."
"What happened between Bridget and me is strictly my affair!" Mary had just been starting to melt. Now she whirled to face her husband, confronting his silken insinuations with raw passion.
"She was using you, Mary." Jamil Khan met Mary's sudden heat with cool assurance. "You let that sexy redhead manipulate you into doing exactly what she wanted. She really pushed your buttons, didn't she? Well, two can play at that game, my love."
"I'm through playing games." Mary growled, turning away from Jamil Khan with great effort. She hoped he would take the hint and leave her to sleep alone. Yet when he kissed her cheek and left the chamber she found herself choking back humiliating tears.
The next morning . . .
"Ah, Mary!" Still lying in bed, Queen Jane looked up from the glossy French fashion magazine she'd been lazily skimming. "How was your trip to Ireland? And how is that mouth-watering new husband of yours? Has Jamil Khan been behaving?"
"The trip was a success. Everything is fine, Your Majesty." Mary perched on the edge of the bed, pouring herself a cup of tea from the queen's tray. A few drops spilled on the satin sheets.
"Well, something is bothering you. Those shaky hands, and those big dark circles under your eyes. You haven't been sleeping, Mary. Tell me everything."
"Well, I think marriage is maybe more than I bargained for." Mary sipped her tea, grateful for the chance to get things off her chest.
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Well, I never wanted passion to be part of the deal. Jamil Khan has respected that and he's kept his hands off. Only last night . . . last night was different. Jamil was brushing my hair before bed."
"My goodness, that does sound serious."
"Well, it was. I mean, I sent him away, but afterwards I had trouble sleeping. I kept thinking about Jamil and picturing what might have happened if . . . you know, if he'd stayed. In my room."
"In your bed." Jane's playful blue eyes were suddenly quite serious.
Mary swallowed, then nodded. "He knows I prefer women, but he still wants me. And sometimes, when we're alone together, I feel sort of drawn to him. Like it would be nice to have his arms around me, even if nothing could ever come of it."
"Or even if something did."
The two Tudor women looked at each other, both of them wondering how much Mary might gain or lose if she gave in to her unexpected feelings and made love to her husband.