Rafe Danvers was dressed in his habitual black. It was one of the things that had first struck Thomasin about him when her eyes had first met his at court, the autumn before last. It was partly through circumstances, partly through preference, that he wore his dark velvet doublet and the midnight cloak that seemed to blend with the sky. As a member of the household of the mighty Boleyn family, he was always conscious of his position, following in the shadow of Sir Thomas, dining at his table, curbing the dictates of his heart. Yet no one knew better than Thomasin what passions raged within. Theirs had not been a smooth path to romance. She had fought against the desire she felt for him, while he had struggled with his temper and jealousy, until both had realised that the emotions they felt for each other were sincere. And that spring, amid the emerging blossoms at Windsor and Greenwich, they had learned to trust each other.
On the other side of the sundial, he paused. Thomasin’s feet failed her as she drew to a halt with the stone plinth between them. Across the space, she could feel Rafe’s deep chestnut eyes burning into her, eyes she had once barely dared to meet for fear of the passions stirring within. He brushed back a lock of his blue-black hair.
“Stop! Stop just there.” His rich tones enveloped her. “I want to remember this moment forever, to fix the image of how beautiful you look tonight.”
But patience was still a virtue that challenged Thomasin. She sprang forward and threw herself into Rafe’s open arms.
“How much better to see me closer, to feel me in your arms.”
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling its scent of lavender. “Ah, Thomasin.”
“I started to fear you would never come.”
“I had to make my excuses. Explain myself to Sir Thomas.”
“And he does not mind? You mean, you explained everything?”
Rafe drew back and looked deep into her eyes. “Yes, everything. He knows about us. He gives us his blessing.”
“Really?” It was hard to believe their match had the approval of the head of the Boleyn household, given Thomasin’s checkered relationship with that family. “Let us hope all such blessings are as easily given tonight!”
“What is the mood within?”
“Mother is merry enough, as she has a new diamond to set into a brooch, and Father is as content as Father ever is, despite not being in the countryside.”
“Then all the signs are good, and the stars are auspicious.”
“Are they?”
“They are indeed. The moon is in Taurus, the sign of plenty, and Orion’s belt is bright, right above us.”
“You may as well be speaking in Turkish to me, but if you say so, I will believe it.”
“Are they assembled? Shall we go in?”
Thomasin cast a glance up to the first-floor chamber she had just left, where Ellen had drawn the heavy curtain across the window.
“Yes, that is the sign. Dinner is about to begin.”
“And they expect me, but know nothing?”
“Nothing yet, although I cannot vouch for what my mother suspects.”
“Of course. You think she favours me?”
“Who could not?”
He bent swiftly and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was warm and firm, lingering longer that it should.
Rafe finally broke off. “Shall I wait for your sign, at the right moment, before I speak?”
“Yes, let me be the judge of my father’s mood, then it shall be done.”
“Come, then.” He took her hand in his. “Let us go into dinner, my soon-to-be betrothed.”
Thomasin’s stomach fluttered as they turned towards the brightly lit house.
TWO
