“Your girl Nancy says you are riding to Hever,” he began on another tack in the awkward silence. “I can understand your wanting to go home to your mother and daughter, but Lord Bullen will not fancy having you underfoot when the king rides over to court the Lady Anne.”
She pulled away from his hands and her voice was piercing. “I will go! You and Stephen and Nance together will not stop me! If His Grace comes I shall hide in my room or ride my horse to the forest and hide there. I will go home! I make my own decisions now, William Stafford. And do not think you can placate me with your patient smiles,” she added, her fists on her hips.
“I am only pleased to see the fire has not gone out, lass. It is fine if you make your own decisions separate from your father from now on, but separate from me—well, that is another matter we have much time to discuss.”
“I have no time for you, my lord. I am leaving.” She tried to skirt around him but he pulled her into a chair and sat facing her so close in another that their knees touched.
“Your girl says you have been warned that the roads are unsafe, especially with so many bailiffs and sheriffs ill and the towns in general disarray. Prancing off in that tight-fitting dress with only a serving maid and one lad does not seem like a very wise independent decision to me.” His thick brows covered his brown eyes, and she wanted to scream at him and kick and scratch.
“You are mine now, Mary, mine in our mutual love as I am yours. You will do no such foolish thing. I have had to handle you with kid gloves these past years for, legally and otherwise, you were not mine. All that has changed now. I will not have you hurt in any way by anything, including your own dangerous plans.”
“I will do as I wish. I am Will Carey’s widow and not your wife.”
“No, but you are my woman and you will obey me until your head clears enough that you can see what you are doing—and what you want from life now that you are free.”
“No,” she shrieked, more afraid of herself than of what he might do. “No one commands my life now.” She scratched at his wrist and stood to flee. He yanked her sideways into his lap, and his iron arms tightened around her, pressing her head against his warm neck. She thrashed her legs under her heavy skirts and struggled in his smothering embrace. Angered beyond belief—at Will’s death, his accusations, at herself and Staff—she bit the taut sinew at the side of his neck. He swore under his breath and shook her once, hard.
She finally stopped fighting and went still and stiff in his arms when his words pierced her panic: “Let me know when you are willing to listen and stop behaving like the spoiled little Bullen I used to know. I much prefer kissing you to wrestling with you. Helping you is all I thought of on the road back from Eltham, damn it, Mary. I do not blame you for fighting another man’s control over you. Only this man loves you, sweetheart. Why not trust that, and later we will decide if we should be together permanently? I will never force that decision on you—or anything else you do not want.”
She nodded jerkily. He loosed her and helped her up. She moved to the other chair and sank into it, gripping the edge of its seat to keep the room from spinning. Her feet almost touched his big booted ones.
His arms crossed over his chest, he leaned back as he went on, “I will take you to Hever, lass, since that is where you are so set on going. I cannot blame you for wanting to leave Wolsey’s vast brick pile with its unhappy memories. But we shall get you some men’s clothes, pull your hair up under a cap, and...”
“I cannot wear anything of Will’s. I cannot!”
“No, nothing of Will’s. I will get you some small breeks and a shirt and jerkin. No one will notice the boots are a woman’s. And since we are getting a late start and you are so high-strung—and mostly because I have been without you too long and am a selfish man and far stronger than you if you choose to argue this—we will stop midway at a little inn I know at Banstead and spend tomorrow there together. Then we will go on.
“Banstead is a most beautiful little town, Mary. It will do us both good to rest there a day. We shall send Stephen and your wench on ahead to Hever and tell them we are a day behind. Let your father wonder. He does already, I warrant. He accused me of wanting you for myself when I refused to take his bribe for keeping Will’s office for him while you were at Plashy. As careful as I tried to be, maybe I showed it on my face. Our love, I mean. The way you do show it now.”
“I do not now, Staff. Things are different.”
“As I said, we shall see, lass. My lass. I expect at least one tiny kiss before we go, payment for taking you safe to Hever if nothing else moves you.”
“I shall not kiss you for your rough handling of me. And you might have had the decency to stop by Will’s grave at the chapel. He was once your friend, you may remember.”