Thomasin paused a little longer, her heart beating faster, wondering whether this was the time to leave, or to linger a little more, and wait. His proximity, with the rose petals between his fingers, made her feel uneasy, unsettled, but not entirely in a bad way.
“Do you remember the night we met last autumn, in the gardens at Westminster?” He spoke coyly, eyes cast down into the heart of a rose.
Of course she did. She was straight back there, in the scented night, under the moonlight and his enticing smile. “When there was a fire?”
“Caused by Francis Bryan.”
“And you gave me a rose.”
He nodded.
“I kept that rose under my pillow until it faded.”
“Did you?” He came towards her hopefully, and she felt the same pull in her gut, the urge prompted by his physical beauty as the sun caught him full in the face. His eyes, usually dark, blazed chestnut as he squinted against the light.
For a moment, she wanted him. The feeling rose up within her unbidden, like a visceral reaction to his presence. Despite all she had learned about him since, his loyalty to the Boleyns, his coldness, his temper and cruelty, there was still that spark of lust between them, threatening to drag her in.
But Thomasin was not the same girl she had been last autumn. She would master those feelings because he did not deserve them.
“It does not change the way you treated me the other night. Your words and tone were unforgiveable, although you say it was the drink. Did you then not speak to William Carey, and warn him not to be my friend? To keep away from me? In some misguided way of protecting me, or was it something else?”
“I did speak with him, yes. It was kindly meant.”
“As your words the other night were? It is not kindly to meddle in my business. You had no right to do so, and you cannot use the excuse of drunkenness this time.”
Rafe was thoughtful for a moment. “I was thinking of the harm done to your sister.”
Thomasin shook her head. “I don’t believe that for a moment. What harm were you protecting me from?”
“The damage to your reputation.”
“Was there any need for that? There were no questions, no rumours, no doubts about my conduct. The queen is more than satisfied with me; why should you be less so, when you have no right to be?”
“I could see the danger, if you could not. Carey was being reckless.”
“How so? By speaking with me? Dancing? I recall that you took far greater liberties with my person with absolutely no care for my reputation, only for your own satisfaction.”
“That is not true! Carey is too close to the Boleyns.”
Thomasin frowned. “From what I can see, he is not at all close to them.”
“He is married to Anne’s sister. No matter how free he might think himself, those legal ties remain. He will stand or fall with the Boleyns. Do you want to unite your fortunes with a married man in their circle?”
“I am not looking to unite my fortunes with anyone! We were merely friends. None of this was your business.”
“No? Are you not my business at all? Nor want to be?”
She found she could not answer these questions. Something reluctant deep within her did not want to close that door. Just in case. Not while he stood there, glowering in the sunshine.
“You do not have the right to meddle in my life, nor to speak to me that way. Now I have said all I wish to, and must return to the queen.”
“So soon? Can we not speak further?”
“I have said my piece.”
Thomasin was determined to turn her back upon him. It was the best way to take control of her feelings, and let her rational mind control the waves of emotion. Now she had to put distance between herself and Rafe, to deny the physical charge pulling them together, and go and devote herself to Catherine, perhaps even to pray. She strode away through the roses, back towards the path.
Rafe refused to accept this and hurried after her. “Go away, leave me be!”
