Page 45 of Flirting with Forever

The king’s eyebrow lifted, and Peter saw his gaze travel to the gray silk dress hung carefully from a hook on the wall.

“I know the king’s time is valuable,” Peter said, “and Stephen says your need is urgent. How may I serve you?”

“’Tis about the paper you asked me to sign today.”

“My solicitor assures me it is a mere matter of your official stamp, and the marriage will be entered upon the record.”

“And the fact that Ursula is dead and buried is not a deterrent?”

“According to the law, if you make it so, the marriage will be as if it had existed from the first. It is entirely legal, I assure you.”

“So with a scratch of the quill I make you a widower without your having ever been a groom.”

“Aye.”

“Peter, I don’t know—”

“Your Majesty was most generous to offer to do this for me. As I have explained, ’tis a wish I hold most dear.”

“It will not bring her back, you know, my friend.”

“No…but it might let her rest in peace.” And me, he might have added.

The king clasped his hands behind his back and gazed out the window into the street below. “Peter, I should very much like to borrow the countess for the evening.”

Peter felt a chill in his bowels. “She’s not mine for the lending. And there is the matter of the fiancé.”

The king smiled. “’Tis a minor matter. And you will explain to her the benefits of befriending the English king. Why, if she actually happens to be Spanish, she’d be looked upon as a national hero.”

Peter’s vision darkened. “You are kind to offer your friendship, but this woman will decline it, I fear.”

“My advisors tell me that this writ you wish me to sign, it is an unusual matter. There is the potential for embarrassment to the Crown, the king gratifying the request of a friend.”

Peter thought of the endless series of grants and titles Charles made, and his bile rose. Charles had granted his lovers duchies. He’d made their sons dukes.

“What I’m saying, Peter, is that I should feel far more accommodating after a relaxing evening with the countess.”

“It will not be possible,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not with this woman.”

The king swiveled, the cunning on his face replaced by joyful surprise. “Peter, my dear fellow! Have you yourself fallen?”

Peter’s face grew hot. Charles had seen him in his darkest despair and had used every resource at his command to divert Peter after he’d emerged, lifeless and wan, from his bed after Ursula’s death. But despite an offer to make any sort of eligible or even ineligible match, Charles had never been able to convince Peter to bury his sorrow in another woman. “I-I—”

“I should never stand between you and such an opportunity, my friend, even if it means dashing my own hopes on the rocks, and I might fairly add that you are the only man for whom that could be said. Do you intend to claim her?”

The king regarded him closely, an uncomfortable mixture of regard and titillation on his face.

Peter swallowed his disgust at having to reveal so personal a feeling. “Aye.”

“Excellent. A fine catch. I have only one request, then.”

“What?” Peter had had his fill of the king today.

“I should like a painting of her.”

A dark tide swept over Peter. “Your Majesty?”

“Venus, perhaps. Or Athena.”