My stomach rolled over itself. I had to find Nick and ask him what planet he was on. The girls looked startled as I rushed back out to check the washroom before clomping downstairs, where four cooks bustled in the tiny kitchen, bumping hips.
“Where is the king?” I blurted to no one in particular.
A guard with imposing shoulders stepped forward. “Mister Joseph Blackburn, my lady,” he introduced with a bow. “I believe His Majesty is in the guest lodgings beyond the garden.”
“Guest lodgings?” I didn’t know there were any here. I thanked the guard and headed outside to a grassy courtyard, where Thomas Grey and Bishop Winchester hovered in their billowy black cloaks like two stage magicians who’d popped out for a smoke.
“Lady Pembroke,” said Thomas, stopping my stride. His pale eyes fixed on mine. “When I once bid you to leave the company of the king, I admit that I had mistook you for little more than a lovesick girl. But, madam, I see now that you are nobody’s fool.” He tipped his head with a short nod. A hot flush of embarrassment crept across my cheeks as I made a thankful curtsy for the vague apology. Thomas had once offered me money to break up with Nick, and I’d not only done the opposite but ended up becoming the future Queen of England. “I also understand that it was you who helped return my wife to her home,” Thomas added, a peace offering in his eyes.
“Uh, yes, you could say that.”
When he made a nod of thanks and turned away again, I knew this was the closest thing I’d ever get to the old man’s blessing.
Before he could leave, a nervous question spilled from my lips. “Why Robin House, Sir Thomas? Why would the king choose to marry me here on this small property—away from everybody?”
I’d expected him to warn me about rebellions and what the nobles really thought of me, but his cheeks blushed fondly. “Your dear betrothed may have the heart of a king, my lady, but he also bears the heart of a man.”
As I glanced over the stony courtyard that clung to visibility within invading thickets of wildflowers and rose bushes, it came together. A part of Nick—a bigger share then I’d have guessed—envied the simplicity of the quiet farmer’s life. It was the reason he enjoyed visiting Robin House so much, where I’d seen him tending the roses and picnicking on the grass. Despite the countless times that I’d butted heads with Thomas Grey, he knew layers of Nick that’d take years for me to peel away. He was the father that Nick had never had, which was why he’d been asked to witness the wedding—even above Francis Beaumont. That gave the old grump a stack of cred in my books.
“I’m really happy your wife is finally home,” I said to him with a wary smile. “I hope you can get back to her soon.”
A film of tears brightened his eyes. He bowed in gratitude and stepped aside for me to pass.
Wedged into the back corner of the courtyard was a tiny cabin built from hand-sawed planks of wood. The door was so stiff that I had to shove it with my hip to get it open. Inside, I found Nick sitting on a wooden stool beside a square hole for a window—a jewel swimming in mud in the ramshackle space.
“Oh, sorry,” I said quickly. “You’re praying.”
He looked up at me, his lips falling open a little. “Lady Pembroke. You are to be preparing your person for the ceremony.”
I felt my forehead crease, but this time, I promised myself I’d stay calm. Nick would never be a modern guy, and he’d always think like a dictatorial Tudor king, but I still deserved a voice in this relationship. I’d never stop fighting for that.
“What’s all this about?” I said gently. “The last time I saw you, things were weird between us, then I went home for no more than a day, you were away forever, and now you announce a sudden wedding without even speaking to me about it?” I shook my head, bewildered. “That’s really different to how things are done in my time and definitely not how I imagined our wedding day to be. We haven’t even had a chance to say a proper hello to each other.”
He twisted back to the window, sunlight tinting his chestnut hair a lighter shade of caramel. “Emmie, I cannot bear the uncertainty of this matter any longer. I love you so truly that it makes me ill to consider that you have had a change of heart about us. But I must know—you may speak your conscience now, I beseech you to.”
“When do I ever not speak my conscience?”
It was my attempt to lighten the atmosphere, but his cheeks didn’t move. I grasped what was happening: despite the show of command in front of Sir Thomas and the Bishop, Nick was giving me one more opening to back out of this thing and return to the twenty-first century if that’s what I wanted. I sensed that he wouldn’t try to stop me this time.
My voice broke on the truthful words that drew me closer to him. “When you were away, I went home to my time and brought back Susanna Grey—as I’m sure you’ve heard. But the whole time I was there, I couldn’t wait to get back here to you.”
He looked back at me, his tormented eyes softening at the edges.
“Do I always agree with you?” I continued. “No. Will I ever completely understand you? Maybe not. Do you make me insane? One hundred percent. But do I seem to love you more every day, rather than less, for some irritating, inexplicable reason? Completely.”
His voice was a whisper. “So you do wish to marry me?”
“Didn’t I already say yes?”
His full lips puffed with relief, and my heart swelled. For a moment, we just drank in the sight of each other, before his mouth curled into a teary smile. He tipped forward to wrap his arms around me, and I fell into his light like a sunflower. After so long apart, our embrace quickly escalated to deep kisses that made my head spin, before we broke apart, remembering ourselves. Nick dropped back onto the stool and tugged me down into his lap. His lips burrowed into the crook of my neck.
“If you weren’t sure that I still wanted to get married,” I said, “then why did you go ahead and try to force it? Why plan everything without me?”
“Is it the custom in my time for the man to make ready the marriage rites, even though most assuredly I would have stopped it, had I not had your consent.” He skimmed his palms down my arms. “I also feared that mine idleness was causing you to drift away. I should have wed you in more haste. I have taken too long…been too consumed with the Spaniards, and the French, and all manner of duty.” He cupped my cheeks and gave them an affectionate squeeze. “You mean more to me than aught, and I wish to wait no longer to marry you.”
“Who’s Aught?” I said with mock horror. “She’s not another one of your ex-girlfriends, is she?”
He breathed a cute laugh, and I tilted into him, kissing the dip in his crinkled brow. “Then let’s do this thing, Nicholas Henry Edward. Make me a Tudor, too.”
Upstairs in the bedchamber, Bridget and Lucinda had laid out a pretty pale-yellow kirtle sprinkled with diamond dust and embroidered with a trail of silver wildflowers that wouldn’t irritate Nick’s asthma. After dressing me in the gown’s myriad pieces, they pinned a medieval circlet of fresh wildflowers over my loose hair and clipped on a necklace of white diamonds. I appraised myself in the hand mirror, my fingers shaking. If only Alice was here to keep me calm with her steadying words. I couldn’t believe that she was about to miss my wedding, but I didn’t have time to send for her, even if I’d been okay with dragging her back from her mom’s side.