Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 1: The Constant Princess, The Other Boleyn Girl, The Boleyn Inheritance. Philippa GregoryЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Aloud, Catalina said: ‘We married in the November, you remember. December we spent most of the time travelling to Ludlow and were apart on the journey. He was not well after Christmas, and then he died in April. I was very sad for him.’

      ‘He was never your lover?’ Harry asked, desperate to be certain.

      ‘How could he be?’ She gave a pretty, deprecatory shrug that made the gown slip off one creamy shoulder a little. She saw his eyes drawn to the exposed skin, she saw him swallow. ‘He was not strong. Your own mother thought that he should have gone back to Ludlow alone, for the first year. I wish we had done that. It would have made no difference to me, and he might have been spared. He was like a stranger to me for all our marriage. We lived like children in a royal nursery. We were hardly even companions.’

      He sighed as if he were free of a burden, the face he turned to her was bright. ‘You know, I could not help but be afraid,’ he said. ‘My grandmother said…’

      ‘Oh! Old women always gossip in the corners,’ she said, smiling. She ignored his widened eyes at her casual disrespect. ‘Thank God we are young and need pay no attention.’

      ‘So, it was just gossip,’ he said, quickly adopting her dismissive tone. ‘Just old women’s gossip.’

      ‘We won’t listen to her,’ she said, daring him to go on. ‘You are king and I am queen and we shall make up our own minds. We hardly need her advice. Why – it is her advice that has kept us apart when we could have been together.’

      It had not struck him before. ‘Indeed,’ he said, his face hardening. ‘We have both been deprived. And all the time she hinted that you were Arthur’s wife, wedded and bedded, and I should look elsewhere.’

      ‘I am a virgin, as I was when I came to England,’ she asserted boldly. ‘You could ask my old duenna or any of my women. They all knew it. My mother knew it. I am a virgin untouched.’

      He gave a little sigh as if released from some worry. ‘You are kind to tell me,’ he said. ‘It is better to have these things in the light, so we know, so we both know. So that no-one is uncertain. It would be terrible to sin.’

      ‘We are young,’ she said. ‘We can speak of such things between ourselves. We can be honest and straightforward together. We need not fear rumours and slanders. We need have no fear of sin.’

      ‘It will be my first time too,’ he admitted shyly. ‘I hope you don’t think the less of me?’

      ‘Of course not,’ she said sweetly. ‘When were you ever allowed to go out? Your grandmother and your father had you mewed up as close as a precious falcon. I am glad that we shall be together, that it will be the first time, for both of us, together.’

      Harry rose to his feet and held out his hand. ‘So, we shall have to learn together,’ he said. ‘We shall have to be kind to each other. I don’t want to hurt you, Catalina. You must tell me if anything hurts you.’

      Easily she moved into his arms, and felt his whole body stiffen at her touch. Gracefully, she stepped back, as if modestly shrinking but kept one hand on his shoulder to encourage him to press forwards until the bed was behind her. Then she let herself lean back until she was on the pillows, smiling up at him, and she could see his blue eyes darken with desire.

      ‘I have wanted you since I first saw you,’ he said breathlessly. He stroked her hair, her neck, her naked shoulder, with a hurried touch, wanting all of her, at once.

      She smiled. ‘And I, you.’

      ‘Really?’

      She nodded.

      ‘I dreamed that it was me that married you that day.’ He was flushed, breathless.

      Slowly, she untied the ribbons at the throat of her nightgown, letting the silky linen fall apart so that he could see her throat, her round, firm breasts, her waist, the dark shadow between her legs. Harry gave a little groan of desire at the sight of her. ‘It might as well have been,’ she whispered. ‘I have had no other. And we are married now, at last.’

      ‘Ah God, we are,’ he said longingly. ‘We are married now, at last.’

      He dropped his face into the warmth of her neck, she could feel his breath coming fast and urgent in her hair, his body was pushing against hers, Catalina felt herself respond. She remembered Arthur’s touch and gently bit the tip of her tongue to remind herself never, never to say Arthur’s name out loud. She let Harry push against her, force himself against her and then he was inside her. She gave a little rehearsed cry of pain but she knew at once, in a heart-thud of dread, that it was not enough. She had not cried out enough, her body had not resisted him enough. She had been too warm, too welcoming. It had been too easy. He did not know much, this callow boy; but he knew that it was not difficult enough.

      He checked, even in the midst of his desire. He knew that something was not as it should be. He looked down at her. ‘You are a virgin,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I hope that I do not hurt too much.’

      But he knew that she was not. Deep down, he knew that she was no virgin. He did not know much, this over-protected boy, but he knew this. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that she was lying.

      She looked up at him. ‘I was a virgin until this moment,’ she said, managing the smallest of smiles. ‘But your potency has overcome me. You are so strong. You overwhelmed me.’

      His face was still troubled, but his desire could not wait. He started to move again, he could not resist the pleasure. ‘You have mastered me,’ she encouraged him. ‘You are my husband, you have taken your own.’ She saw him forget his doubt in his rising desire. ‘You have done what Arthur could not do,’ she whispered.

      They were the very words to trigger his desire. The young man gave a groan of pleasure and fell down on to her, his seed pumping into her, the deed undeniably done.