“I wish to warn you of what is to come.”

      He had seen the sensual, enticing, womanly Marguerite at first. This was the angry, controlling, warrior-like Marguerite.

      Was there some other plotting going on? He took a breath and asked, “And what is to come?”

      “My lord Henry is simply putting me in my place. He wishes me to know what he could do if he is displeased with me. I fear you have been caught up in a lovers’ quarrel.”

      “Henry will call off the wedding today?” His instincts told him there was much more going on here.

      “Of course he will! He loves me and will not give me away to some northern lord who never attends court.” She must have seen his look of disbelief, for she added, “I was raised as consort for a king, not some…some…”

      “Barbarian of mixed blood, my lady?”

      The King’s Mistress

      Harlequin Historical #735

      Praise for Terri Brisbin

      “A lavish historical romance in the grand tradition from a wonderful talent.”

      —New York Times bestselling author Bertrice Small on Once Forbidden

      The Norman’s Bride

      “A quick-paced story with engaging characters and a tender love story.”

      —Romantic Times

      The Dumont Bride

      “Rich in its Medieval setting…Terri Brisbin has written an excellent tale that will keep you warm on a winter’s night.”

      —Affaire de Coeur

      “Beautifully written and well researched, this book is a perfect ten in many ways.”

      —Romance Reviews Today

      Terri Brisbin

      The King’s Mistress

      Available from Harlequin Historicals and TERRI BRISBIN

      The Dumont Bride #634

      The Norman’s Bride #696

      The Countess Bride #707

      The Christmas Visit #727

      “Love at First Step”

      The King’s Mistress #735

      This book is for Gail Link, romance author and bookseller extraordinaire, who was one of the first authors I ever met and continues as a friend to this day! Thanks, Gail, for the hours of enjoyment you’ve given me with your books and for your ongoing support!

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      Anjou Province

       November in the Year of Our Lord 1177

      The slippery satin of her floor-length gown swished around her legs as she turned to face the king in anger. Unable to believe the pronouncement made by him, Marguerite of Alencon gasped.

      “Sire! Surely you cannot mean to turn me away from your affections.”

      “You will always bear my love, fair Marguerite, even as you bear my child. But you must be clear on this point—you will never take the queen’s place in name or in honor.”

      “You have made her a prisoner, Your Grace. You have stripped her of her wealth and power. ’Twould serve you well to seek another as your queen and wife.”

      Only after the words escaped did she realize the danger in teasing the Plantagenet temper to rouse. So caught up in her own plans and desires, she stepped too far in voicing these thoughts.

      “’Twould serve many well to remember that I am the one who made her prisoner and that I am the one who controls her wealth and power. ’Twould serve many well not to meddle in the affairs of this kingdom.”

      With his fists clenched in anger and his head thrown back as he spoke, his words echoed through the chamber and sent shivers through Marguerite as she reconsidered her approach.

      “Sire, I beg your forgiveness for my brazen words. I wish only to love you and to give you pleasure and heirs as you desire. I carry one now within my womb and simply want to share my joy at the honor with you.”

      Nothing inside her could make her take back the words. She wanted to be queen. She carried his son now. Her blood was noble enough to take her place next to him. Bastard or not, the blood coursing through her veins could be traced back to Charlemagne.

      But she was a realist if nothing else, and so, gathering her pride in a bit, she lowered herself into a deep curtsy at his feet and tilted her head down until she was lower than his hand. After a minute in that humbling position, she raised her head and lifted his hand to her mouth. With a reverent kiss on it, she touched it to her forehead and whispered to him.

      “I am yours, Henry. I live to love you and to serve you only.”

      His manner calmed for his heavier, angrier breathing slowed and he did not pull away from her. Instead, he assisted her to her feet and he guided her to a chair. Once she’d taken her seat, he paced across the chamber without speaking. Marguerite had seen this behavior before in him. When first confronted with news that was neither pleasant nor wanted, he exploded, his temper getting the best of him. Then, when given time to acclimate himself to the news, he dealt with things in a fairer way.

      Ridding himself of the disgraced Eleanor would take some maneuvering with both church and nobles and Henry was probably thinking of ways around the objections that may be made to it. In spite of their age difference and her perfidy to him in matters of family, he was most likely seeking a benevolent manner to remove Eleanor, yet one without losing the wealth and lands she brought into the marriage as her first husband had.

      Marguerite reached over and, to soothe her parched throat, took a sip of the sweet wine still in her goblet. Watching the king pace back and forth, she knew he was beginning to agree with her assessment and ideas. She relaxed against the back of the high chair and waited. There was no sense in interrupting Henry now. Just as she began to get nervous over his silence, he stopped and turned to face her.