Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her

Read Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her for Free Online

Book: Read Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her for Free Online
Authors: Susan Kay
Tags: nonfiction, History
bloody
    nephew than he is mine.”
    Edward’s long stride halted abruptly.
    “Just what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
    “It means I’ll not thank any man who chooses to forget it,” said Tom
    coldly. “So take a little more care how you claim your first-born privi-
    leges, Ned, or you may find my brotherly fist in your fat ear!”
    “Are you threatening me, you damned pup?” Edward’s free hand shot
    out and caught Tom by the collar and for a moment they stood there
    quivering with rage, ready to knock each other down, as they had done
    so often in their boyhood at Wolf Hall.
    Elizabeth shut her eyes instinctively and hid her face in the chrisom.
    It was enough to bring Tom to his senses, making him shrug off his
    brother’s angry hand with a rueful laugh.
    “Let it be! Not just now with the King waiting for us.” He glanced at
    Elizabeth with a wary smile. “And not with his daughter taking it all in.
    Believe me, Ned, this one misses nothing! Sharp as a dagger aren’t you,
    my pretty?”
    Edward looked at Elizabeth too, half embarrassed as he let his arm
    drop limply back to his side, glad of the distraction.
    “She’s no damned business to be listening,” he said primly. “It shows
    her want of breeding. Why the King wants the little bastard present has
    been beyond me from the start. I thought he couldn’t bear the sight of
    her since Boleyn lost her head.”
    Elizabeth’s face stilled, suddenly empty, then the dark eyes blazed and
    she threw the chrisom on the floor and Edward dropped her at Tom’s
    feet in his effort to catch the trailing yards of white satin. It was the second
    time in less than ten minutes that she had landed without ceremony on
    terra firma and she was suddenly more than ready to yell.
    She looked up at Tom and saw him shake his head and lay a finger
    against his lips. He had a wicked laughing look that made her reserve
    the yell for future use. Sitting on the rushes, she searched in vain for
    the source of his amusement and saw nothing but Hertford frantically
    25
    Susan Kay
    shaking out the robe beneath the orange glow of a wall torch further
    down the gallery.
    “Who’s a naughty girl then?” whispered Tom as he picked her up. She
    liked the admiring way he said that as though she had done something
    which gave him immense satisfaction and automatically her arms went
    about his neck in a quick, instinctive gesture of response.
    “I don’t like him,” she said. “You may carry me instead.” The corners
    of his lips twitched beneath his fair moustache.
    “I can’t do that, poppet,” he said lightly, “much as I’d like to.”
    “But I want you to. I want it.”
    Her lips trembled and stretched themselves into a thin querulous line;
    he knew an ominous sign when he saw one so close.
    “Sweetheart,” he added hastily, “the King wants me to carry the
    canopy over your little brother. And if I make the King angry—”
    “He will chop off your head!”
    The flat little statement made him blink in astonishment. He bit back
    an oath and managed to turn it into an uncomfortable cough instead.
    “Well,” he said, struggling for nonchalance beneath her calm gaze,
    “you wouldn’t want that to happen to poor old Uncle Tom, would you?”
    She touched his golden beard with a hesitant finger.
    “No,” she murmured softly, “I wouldn’t like that at all. You have a
    nice head.”
    “Then we’ll do our best to keep it where it is, shall we—just for a little
    while longer?”
    She nodded solemnly, and then pouted.
    “Does that mean he has to carry me?”
    “I’m afraid so. But if you’re a good girl and give him no more trouble
    tonight I’ll give you a gingerbread boy.”
    Elizabeth looked across the gallery. He was coming back, folding the
    chrisom with all the precision of a laundrymaid. She put her head down
    on Tom’s shoulder and twined her fingers in his hair.
    “Two gingerbread boys?” she whispered.
    He laughed and gave her a hearty

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