The Boleyn Prince

Chapter 20

Anne linked her silken arm through her brothers as they walked through the Privy Gardens of Whitehall Palace together.

"So, tell me. What was it like bedding the daughter of a King?"

"No different from any other maid. Except the sheets were of a finer quality."

"For shame!" She squealed, giving him a playful shove. "Did she cry? Did she try and forbid you?"

"No. She just lay there."

"Did she cry afterwards?"

"I don't know. I fell asleep pretty much soon after."

"Oh George," she sighed in frustration. "The greatest achievement of your life and you fall asleep!"

"It certainly didn't feel like the greatest achievement of my life," George pouted sulkily. "It does a man's pride no good when he beds a woman he knows despises him."

"What does that matter? You despised Jane?"

"Yes, but at least I knew she wanted it, and me."

"My dear brother, all you need to do is make sure that she gets a child in her belly. Knowing how delicate she is, it would be a miracle if she made it through her travail!"

"Anne!"

"Well, it is true!" She slid her arm back through his and continued their stroll.

"Besides, I will be lucky if she lets me come within a mile of her anytime soon. You should have seen the look on her face when Weston, Bryant, and I got there."

At this Anne stopped still and fixed her dark eyes on her brother, suddenly serious. "If she tries to deny you your rights, then you assert them. If she bolts her bedroom door, you break it down. You make sure that cursed bastard knows her place. You are her master now and don't ever let her forget it."

George pulled away. The venom in Anne's voice was as clear as if the bile was running down her mouth. "I have never forced a woman in my life. And I think it a vile man who would do such a thing. Husband or not."

"That is not what the gossips say. They say you are a notorious lecher. Forcing widows and deflowering virgins."

"These would also be the same gossips who say you are a witch. That you have the mark of the devil on your body."

"I will cut out the tongues of anyone who says such vile things about me," she fired back fiercely. 

At one point, such slander about Anne would have warranted such a punishment. If she hadn't demanded it, the King would have. He had banished his brother-in-law, the Duke of Suffolk from the court for repeating the salacious rumours about her friendship with Thomas Wyatt. Even his own fool, whose impertinence and risqué comments that had continuously been overlooked by Henry over the years had incurred his wrath after he had, in jest, called Anne ribald. The King had threatened to kill him with his hand.

"Our enemies will always say vile things about us," George said trying to soothe his sister's fiery temper. "but they will never prove it because it's not true."

"Here me George. That little bastard has insulted me in every possible way that she can think of. Now it is my chance to return the favour. So, you get to her. You force her, beat her, use your horsewhip on her if you so wish, I do not care. Get a child in her belly and with God's good grace, she will catch the fever in her childbed and die. God knows the King would be glad to rid himself of such a burden. you should hear the way he talks about her now. She is the pearl of his world no longer."

George had heard about as much as he could stomach. He hated to hear such venom coming from his own sister. Especially when he could remember how principled she had been when they were children. Was this her ambition talking, vengeance or was there a maliciousness in her soul that had always been there. Either way he did not want to know the answer. He walked away leaving her still trembling with rage.
What was it about Mary Tudor that deranged her so much. She had always possessed a ruthlessness in dealing with her enemies, but it reached new heights with Mary, especially since the Northern rebellions.
What concerned him more was how could she think he could be capable of such a thing?  He had done immoral things on Anne's behalf in the past, many things, that was true. But nothing as villainous as forcing himself on a woman who did not want him. It sickened him that she could even countenance that he could be capable of such a vile deed. He enjoyed the pleasure of a willing bed mate. He certainly had no need to force a woman to share his bed. There were plenty of neglected and frustrated wives and many ambitious women at court who would be all too glad to share the bed of the Queen's brother. Especially if there was a chance of a rich reward or familial advancement.

He joined Mary for dinner that evening. From the moment he walked into the chamber, he could sense her nervousness. She picked at the rich food with her knife, touching nothing on the silver plate. She took only a few sips of the wine from the ornate Holbein designed goblet.
Something in his heart went out to the pale thin creature sitting opposite him. She had no one left to care for her. Her father had washed his hands of her. Anne thought only of hurting her, and despite her years, she was more of a girl than a woman. A sensitive girl at that.
Not that he was a stranger to female sensitivity. He had grown up alongside two sisters. Polar opposites in their personalities to be sure. Anne had been as fiery and bold back then as she was today. Mary had always been the sensitive one. Although regarded as the prettier of the two sisters, she had always felt overshadowed by Anne's academic accomplishments, even though she was the older sister and should have outshined her sibling in everything.
He had understood them and even in a way, had understood Jane, infuriating termagant as she was, with all her possessive devotion to him. But Mary Tudor was a mystery to him.

He came to her again that night. She did not try to deny him, but it was obvious she was still in some discomfort from their wedding night.

"Perhaps we should wait," he murmured as she blinked back her tears with relief at this unexpected reprieve.

He did not fail to spot it and so resolved to leave her alone. He would find some other woman to sport with. Someone who would not recoil from his touch. Someone who would provide him with a little relief from the rigid bulge under his robe.
That plump little wench in his wife's household was a flirt. He thought as he returned to his chamber. Perhaps she would welcome him. She had been giving him looks ever since she had arrived at court, and he had been no less enamoured with her. She was no maid, of that much he was certain. She would provide him with some sport.

He dipped his quill into the inkpot and wrote the briefest of notes.

"Come to me tonight."

He did not waste time with pleasantries or even sweet words. Chances were the girl wouldn't understand them. In fact, it would be surprising if she could even read. Norfolk didn't believe in educating his women in his family. The more ignorant they were, the more malleable they were.

"John," he called out to his groom as he was about to take his leave for the night. "I have a job for you lad."

The groom fought to keep the exasperation from his voice. He was tired and longing for his bed. "Yes, Your grace?"

"You're a good-looking young lad. Not wed yet?"

"No, Your Grace," he replied, puzzled as to where this line of questioning was going.

'But there is a girl?'

"Yes, Your Grace."

"At court?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I see. In the maid's dormitory is she?"

"Yes, your grace,"

"Excellent. I want you to get this note to one of her companions," he said handing over the folded parchment. "Short girl, dark hair, in my wife's service. She was wearing a pink gown this evening."

The nod from John told George that the lad knew just the wench he was referring to.

"See her safely to me and there will be an extra couple of coins in your pocket by the end of the night. Treat your sweetheart to some comfits."

At the mention of the payment, Johns' eyes lit up and George suspected that his feet did not feel half as tired as they had been a few moments ago. If he played his cards right, he might get more than a couple of shillings. His master was after all, newly ennobled a Duke.

"But Your Grace, the maiden's dormitory is out of bounds."

At this George roared with laughter and clapped the boy on the back like he was one of his drinking partners. "I am sure it is John. I am sure. But it is not out of bounds to me, and as you would be there in my service, it would be out of bounds to you either."

He walked the boy to the door, his hand still firmly against his shoulder. "Go to it lad, go to it."

Although the maiden's dormitory was on the other side of the palace, John was soon back with the girl. She was just a tiny little thing, but despite her diminutive height, her body was perfect. Her plump breasts looked ready to burst out of the pink satin gown that she still wore, and George was no less eager to see them. Her long auburn hair flowed over her shoulders from a matching French hood in loose curls.

"Good lad," he said with a lopsided smile as he threw a pound coin at John, dismissing him.

"Thank you for coming."

"I was honoured to receive your invitation, Your Grace," she said softly, tilting her chest forward as she dipped into a curtsy to allow him a more generous look at her attributes.

"You know why I have asked for you?"

A knowing smile played upon the girl's lips, and she tilted her head slightly to one side. "I can guess, Your Grace."

Her boldness amused him. Provocative little wench.

"And yet you still agreed to come?"

She fluttered her eyelashes at the powerful man before her. "Most willingly, Your Grace,"

"What's your name?"

"Kathryn, Your Grace. Kathryn Howard."

"Well, Kathryn Howard," he cooed running his finger across her blushing her cheek. "You are a very pretty young lady. But I suppose you are told that all the time."

Her dimpled cheeks blushed at his compliment. "Yes, Your Grace. In fact, one of the King's grooms told me that just this evening."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her directness. "I want to see you. Unlace your gown," he said huskily, taking a sip from his goblet.

"I cannot reach behind me, Your Grace."

In two strides he was behind her, pulling the fastenings out until the gown had become sufficiently loosened.
He slid the smooth material over her shoulders exposing her naked back. The wanton creature was not even wearing any undergarments! He could feel his arousal rising.
She allowed the gown to fall to the floor, then turned to face him, her nipple standing full and erect on her plump and supple breasts.
She untied his velvet nightgown, and smoothed it away, allowing it too to drop to the floor.
Her hands started to wander down towards his stiffening member and took him in her hands and gently began to stroke him. George let out an involuntary moan of pleasure at this new delight.
Without a word, Kathryn lowered her head, removed her hands, and swallowed him all the way to the base. The back of her throat tickling the tip.
George opened his eyes wide in surprise. He had known women before. He had been married to Jane for ten years. Not one of them had ever used their mouths on him the way this wench had.
She could see the need in his eyes as she slowly began to stroke him over and over. His arousal increasing with rapid alacrity. She let him fall out of her mouth with a 'pop'.

"Does that feel good, Your Grace?" She teased coquettishly.

He let out a strangled little chuckle. "Do it again," he instructed.

Obediently, she did as instructed. She went down, then back up, and then back down, all while using her hands in unison and quickly built up a steady rhythm. The exquisite sensations made his eyes roll back into his head. He slumped up against the four-poster bed, letting out a low, guttural moan as she worked him gently back and forth. His breathing became very shallow.
Soon, the pleasurable sensation of her sucking, caused his breathing to become even more erratic as she brought him closer to the edge. He threw his head back, stared at the ceiling, and unloaded himself into Kathryn's obliging mouth.

He lowered his gaze down to where she kneeled. Her bare breasts glistened from the overrun slivers of his excretions.

"I can't believe you just did that!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

She pursed her lips and with a seductive little grin, peered at him from a flirtatious tilt of her head. "I do a lot of things you wouldn't believe," she purred.

She wiped her mouth with one hand, then she did it again! Once again, he stiffened, filled with lust for this provocative little wench. The girl was no better than a whore, but by God, she had a talent for pleasing. Her touch spurned him on that he became so rigid he was rapidly approaching the point of physical pain.

He pulled himself away from her. "Go over to the bed," he commanded her struggling to hold himself together.

She immediately complied. She perched her naked body exquisitely on the velvet coverlet of his bed. Her hands pushing the top of her body upright. Her plump breasts shamelessly exposed.

"On your hands on and knees," he said with another smile.

He watched her crawl into position, her pert backside exposed to the night air.

He leaned forward like a rider in a saddle and whispered in her ear. "How like you this," as he pushed himself into her. Using his weight to drive himself in, his length and girth stretching and filling her.
Now it was her turn to be surprised. She turned her head back to face him, her eyes wide with excitement. Her gaping mouth turned into another sexy, naughty smile. Her moaning breaths gave a clear message, and he began to ride her hard. She was soon beginning to pant like one of his dogs when in heat, arching her back to give him a better angle to delve into her before his coursing ejaculation shot into the soft depths of her core.
He fell against the warm soft flesh of her naked back. He was completely spent.

"May I sleep here?" she asked, still on all fours.

George disentangled himself and pulled himself a fresh goblet of wine. He would have liked her to stay. To repeat the nights' events before the morning skies broke through. But he knew he couldn't be caught with a girl in his rooms. Particularly not this early on in his marriage.

"No. You will have to get yourself back to the dormitory."

"I like it here," she murmured suggestively, stroking the velvet coverlet.

"I might invite you back again," he teased her tossing her gown at her.

"When your wife has retired to the country?" She asked hopefully, slipping her gown back on.

He let out a little chuckle of amusement. It was only when he turned to see her wide brown eyes full of hope that he realized she was serious. Could she really be that stupid? To think that he would keep her here at court.

"Where my wife goes, you go also," he reminded. "You are part of her household. But that's not to say we might not enjoy ourselves when I come to visit her."

She ran her childlike fingers up his bare chest and tilted her head coquettishly to one side. "If you transferred me to the Queen's household, we could continue to enjoy ourselves."

Heavens she really was rather stupid George thought to himself, somewhat amused. Anne would sniff her out within a day.
"And what fun that would be," he smiled, thinking back to the exquisite sensation of her taking him in his mouth. Deftly he loosely laced up her satin gown. "But the Queen is served by the greatest women in the land. Rich, sophisticated noblewomen. There may be a place for you in the future but for now, your place is with my wife, in the country."
She spun around and pursed her lips into an adorable pout.
It dawned on him that during their fun together. He had not once kissed those pert little lips. He tilted her head up and brought his mouth gently down on hers. Parting her lips with his tongue.

"Until next time," he murmured softly before showing her to the door.