The King's Mistress Read Online Free PDF

mother taught her to pray, embroider and manage an estate, Anton had taught her to ride, curse and to know when a man lied or cheated at cards.
    At thirteen years of age, when she’d developed tender feelings for a visiting diplomat’s son, she’d gone not to her mother but to Anton for advice. A man of few words, he told her, “My sweet lamb, a stiff cock has no conscience.” He then asked if she recalled why they’d placed a ring in the bull’s nose. When she nodded, he told her, “A ring is the key to controlling a man as well.” Laughing, he’d held up his right hand. “No ring.”
    Today, at two score and nine, Anton was still as muscular and fit as he had been then, as any man half his age, and he still wore no ring. And here she was once again, in sore need of his advice on men.
    “Countess—” He grinned at his lapse. “ Your Highness , how may I be of service?”
    “I’ve had some disturbing news…about Lady Greer Armstrong.”
    “Ah. You’ve learned MacKinnon has been ordered to the border to fetch her back to Edinburgh.”
    Not the least surprised he had his own spies at Edinburgh, Yolande nodded as she fought the tears burning at the back of her throat.
    You’re a woman grown, for heaven’s sake. Not some frightened child. Act it!
    He lifted her chin with a finger and looked deep into her eyes. “Oh, now, what have we here, lamb?”
    Undone by the childhood endearment, she threw herself into his arms and began sobbing, her tears streaking his leather breast armor. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she stuttered, “That…that slut is with child, Anton. His. And…and I am not.”
    There, she’d said it aloud. Yet the ache and fear remained.
    “I see.” He held her, stroking her back in fatherly fashion while she cried out her pain in gasping, slobbering sobs.
    “I wish… I wish…”
    “She would disappear.”
    She nodded while his massive chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. Yes. She wanted that woman gone.
    “How many know?” he asked.
    “That I’m not with child?”
    “Yes.”
    “Only you…and me.” She took a shuddering breath, relieved she no longer carried the shameful burden alone. Dashing the tears from her cheeks, she stepped out of his arms. “Evette may suspect, but I’ve been most careful to hide the evidence of my monumental failure in the fires I keep burning in the solar.”
    His gaze shifted to the distant hills that footed the treacherous Grampian Mountains beyond. “Does His Majesty know his whore may be with child?”
    “He never would have permitted her to leave Edinburgh if he had.”
    “True.”
    Yolande began pacing the frozen earth, which crunched and poked like brittle rushes beneath her doeskin slippers. “If he learns of it, I fear I’m a dead woman. Widowed, he would be free to marry her and have his legitimate heir.”
    Montre grabbed her hand, bringing her to an abrupt halt. “Have no fear, lamb. This…inconvenience will be dispatched forthwith.”
    “My dearest Anton.” Her lifelong friend and teacher would dispose of this threat. “But what of my husband? Won’t he grow suspicious when the wench and MacKinnon fail to return? I’ve done naught to mask my hatred for the woman.”
    Anton remained silent for several minutes, then whispered, “He’ll have no reason to be suspicious of you if you send him a missive stating you believe yourself to be with child. Overjoyed with the prospect of a legitimate heir, he won’t spare a moment’s thought on the whore but will race here to be at your side, whereupon you must use every womanly wile at your disposal to keep him in bed until such time as you are with child. By the time he does give Armstrong a thought, he’ll be too content to care what happened to her.”
    The wind shifted, bringing the sound of distant feminine laughter into the garden. Frowning, Anton studied the windows and battlements above them. Apparently satisfied they held no threat, he turned his attention