Chapter Ten

"H ow did you enjoy the service?" Philip asked Joanna as they walked back to their solar many months later. The corridor was quiet, apart from the sounds of their footsteps and the knights' clanking armor.

"It is always excellent and with such a large congregation, I enjoy the hymns."

"Good." He squeezed her hand. "And what should we do after lunch? I have no business to attend to today."

"I am glad. You have been in meetings all week."

"No meetings today. It is the day of rest."

"I wish you could rest on another day too." She couldn't help but pout. The last few weeks, her husband had been engrossed in the details of governing and raising money with the Estates General.

"You married a busy man with great responsibility, as you know, my love."

"I do know that, but I can't help wanting to spend time with you." She paused. "I have been educated in many things, including politics, you know."

"And for that, I am grateful, for I should have hated a stupid wife." He chuckled. "But I don't wish for you to worry about such matters."

"What if I promised not to worry, but instead to help find solutions to problems? I could be of assistance."

"I will bear that offer in mind."

"Do more than bear it in mind ."

They turned the corner. Several female courtiers scurried ahead holding armfuls of material. A brunette girl looked over her shoulder, her pretty face flushed and her eyes wide.

"You are of course right. I will consider it most seriously," Philip said. "Are you hungry?"

"Er, yes, I suppose I am."

"Me too. I will organize us figs; bread and honey; and perhaps some goat's cheese too." He gestured to the door of her bedchamber, which he used too on most nights. "Wait for me, my love."

"But…?"

He held up his hand and called, "We are having luncheon in our private chambers."

The courtiers, realizing they were being given an order, stilled. The brunette was the only one to turn around; the others continued on their way. In her arms were two of Joanna's new French-style gowns that needed cleaning. Joanna hadn't seen her before.

"Please, I will join you shortly, Joanna," Philip said. "Please go and pour the wine."

"Who is that?" Joanna asked.

"A servant, Joanna." He frowned slightly. "Go… I insist."

For a moment, she hesitated then stepped into the bedchamber and closed the door. She removed the hennin she always wore to church and set it aside, then stood with her hands on her hips.

Philip's voice came from the corridor. A string of words. More than just ordering bread, honey, and cheese. Then a female's voice. A giggle. Philip talking again.

Heat spread on her chest and up her neck—a stinging rash of jealousy. Her jaw clenched and her toes curled in her shoes. She reached for the handle and stepped out, stomped past her knight standing to the right, and froze.

Philip was indeed talking to the pretty courtier. Standing close too, a smile on his face as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Who are you?" Joanna asked, raising the hem of her gown and stomping up to the girl.

Shock washed over her face and she stepped back, quickly looking at the floor.

"I said, who are you ? Who are you to my husband?" Joanna stabbed her finger in the direction of the girl.

"Joanna, what are you doing?" Philip curled his hand around the top of Joanna's arm.

She was vaguely aware of her knights filling the space in her peripheral vision.

"You tell me to go into our private chambers so you can talk and giggle with this…this… wench ." She glared at the girl, hating her delicate features and perfect skin.

"She is not a wench. This is Natalie. She has worked here since she was very young. I have known her since I was very young."

"And that gives you permission to act as though you are not married?" Joanna tilted her chin. "Not married to me ?"

"I am allowed to speak to other women." Philip frowned, his voice was low.

"You are not." She tipped her head and glared at him. "Unless it is a business matter or a family member."

"You are being ridiculous." He looked at Natalie and jerked his head to the right, dismissing her.

She took a hurried leave, quickly disappearing from sight.

" I am being ridiculous? How would you like it if I carried on with the stableboy I have known since childhood?"

"Stableboy?" Philip raised his eyebrows and his lips tightened. "What stableboy?"

She flicked her arm, dislodging his hold. "Exactly…what stableboy? You do not need to fear, for we are in your home. And I would bet silver coins she is one of the girls with whom you honed your bedchamber skills." Joanna's body stiffened at the thought of Philip tying another woman to his bed and pleasuring her. It made her feel physically sick and she pressed her hand over her mouth as an acrid taste spread on her tongue.

"My love, do not think of that." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Why would you? It is in the past."

"It hurts me." She blinked as her eyes moistened. "To think of you with another."

"I am not with another. I am with you. My wife."

He pulled her into a hug and she did not resist. His strong body against hers was what she needed—reassurance that he loved her, adored her, and would never leave her for another.

But what if he did?

A sob escaped and she squeezed her eyes closed.

"Hush, my love. Do not upset yourself when there is nothing to be upset about."

"But why did you want to speak to her alone?"

"We were not alone." He pulled back and cupped her cheeks. "Your knights were right there. I was planning a special Sunday luncheon for us and ensuring all the flavors I know you adore were going to be on the platter."

"You were?"

"Yes." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Now let us go to the solar and have some alone time." He glanced at the knights, his eyes narrow. "And your silent guards can go back to their places."

She nodded and swiped at a tear rolling down her face. What had gotten into her? Her emotions were like a rushing storm cloud racing from east to west and getting heavier with rain.

She allowed Philip to lead her into the bedchamber, then dabbed her face with cool lavender water from the basin and brushed her hair.

Philip went into the solar, the room they used when they wished to be alone eating, reading, or talking.

Joanna walked to the bedroom window and stared out at the landscape she'd become used to despite its flatness. For a moment, Raul's face popped into her mind. She wondered if he'd found a wife. She hoped he had and that hope didn't bring with it any jealousy or twisting of her guts, not like the thought of Philip with another. That was like a dagger to her heart and stole her breath as though she were actually being strangled.

Her attention was drawn to a flowerbed full of roses. It was alive with bees and butterflies and a small songbird hopped on the gravel path that ran alongside it.

A sudden idea came to mind. A sinful idea, admittedly, but one that would get her what she wanted. She'd make a love potion. Yes. That was what she'd do. As soon as she had a spare moment, she'd gather rosebuds and crush them with honey. Then when Philip wasn't looking, she'd add some to his claret wine. He'd never notice, and as long as she was the woman who had made the potion and was with him when he drank it, it would be her with whom he fell totally and utterly in love.

And she needed him to, for she was so in love with him, it made her bones ache when she wasn't with him.

*

The next afternoon, when Philip was with his noblemen and advisors, Joanna set her Bible aside, hooked a small basket over her forearm, and slipped from the room. As she walked down the stairs, her knights close behind, Beatriz appeared.

"Can I get you anything, Your Highness?"

"Yes…I mean no. This is something I must do myself." She hurried out of the main entrance and turned left, toward the rose garden.

"Whatever are you doing?" Beatriz rushed to keep up with her. "Surely, I can help."

"Not in this instance, no." The sun heated her cheeks, making her feel alive and positive. This would surely work.

"But please, I am here to serve."

Joanna came to a halt and turned. "I am lovesick, Beatriz. There is no one who can help me but me."

"Lovesick?"

"Yes." She shook her head slowly, as though it really were a very uncomfortable affliction—perhaps it was.

"Your husband?"

"Of course. For whom else would I be lovesick?"

"I am glad, of course, that you feel this way about him." Beatriz took Joanna's hand. "And does he feel the same?"

"What do you think?"

Beatriz said nothing. A buzzard called overhead. In the distance, the chime of a church bell carried on the breeze.

"See, you do not think he loves me." Joanna huffed and turned around. She carried on walking fast.

"Joanna, Princess, I did not say that." Beatriz rushed after her. "From what I see, there is great affection and he speaks very highly of you, lavishing you with time and gifts. I have no reason to suspect he doesn't love you."

"Lavishing me with time," Joanna threw over her shoulder. "Perhaps in the first moon of our marriage, but not now. Now he spends all of his days debating and poring over scrolls."

"It is his duty as archduke."

"It is his duty to be with me." Joanna stopped at the rose bed and surveyed the flowers before her. They were in various stages of blooming, but she only wanted the tightest buds, for they held the most power.

"What are you doing?" Beatriz stood alongside her.

"I am making a love potion."

"A love potion? But that is really quite a sin and—"

"I do not care, and you must not tell a soul about it."

"Of course your confidences are safe with me." Beatriz paused, as though thoughts were spinning through her mind. "And what will you do with the love potion?"

"I will put it into his wine, of course, this very evening."

"And you do not think he will notice?" Her eyes widened.

"Not if it is the third or fourth goblet of wine, no." Joanna chuckled, feeling pleased with her cunning plan. "Now here, hold the basket while I choose the buds."

Beatriz swallowed tightly then took the basket. "Yes, of course."

Joanna found three deep-red buds with petals still tightly wrapped around themselves. She plucked them carefully and dropped them into the basket.

"What else do you need?" Beatriz asked, glancing around.

"Honey, as freshly gathered as possible. And a pestle and mortar."

"Shall we go to the kitchen?" Beatriz nodded to her right.

"Yes. And you can get it for me. That way, no one will know but us. I don't want anyone getting suspicious that I am using spells."

"That would be very wise." Beatriz looked worried and then glanced left and right again. "To keep it a secret. It could cause problems if it were known."

"It will be unproblematic. I am Joanna of Castile, wife of the Habsburg Archduke, remember. I am clever as well as cunning and I have you to help me. Don't I?"

"Yes. Of course. Always." Beatriz bobbed her head. "Let us get this potion made before your husband concludes his meetings for the day."

That evening, after eating with Philip, the dowager, Beatriz, and Thomas, Joanna excused herself, complaining of feeling a little green.

Which was the truth; she'd felt that way all day. Perhaps it was the thought of Philip and the courtier girl. Perhaps she was nervous about casting her spell.

"I will join you soon." Philip held up a full goblet of wine and grinned. "Beautiful wife of mine."

She nodded and left the room, the knights close behind. Philip had drunk well during the meal and would no doubt have more back at their bedchamber. To help him sleep without worries, he always said.

And it was that last drink that she'd put the love potion into. Excitement filled her. Soon he'd feel as drunk on love as she did.

The knights didn't follow her beyond the threshold to her bedchamber and with the door safely closed, she found the small, brown bottle she'd filled with her potion and hidden beneath the bed.

A fresh jug of wine waited on the table beside the large tapestry—red-and-gold embroidery depicting a unicorn, a lion, and a pomegranate tree—and she quickly poured two goblets.

One she set aside, and the other she left on the tray then removed the cork of her potion bottle.

"With rose and honey, I cast this binding love spell over my dearest Philip," she whispered, carefully adding a few drops to the wine. "May honey sweeten your love for me, your devoted wife, and rose remind you of the thorny pain we would both feel should we be parted." She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, clutching the bottle to her chest. "For we are meant to be, as the moon is to the sky and the snake is to the desert. Our love is as vast as an ocean and can withstand storms, hellfire, and the devil himself." She paused, emotion almost overwhelming her. "May you know love the way I do, Philip. May it embrace you, consume you, fill your mind and your heart." She opened her eyes and stared at the wine, the surface still now of ripples. "I love you so, and you shall love me so."

Quickly, she stood and replaced the potion in its hiding place. The moment she had, the door opened and Philip walked in.

"My love," he said, pausing. "You still have your headdress on."

"I have?" She touched the small hair roll that had lace hanging down the back.

"Usually, you remove it immediately upon return to our private chambers. It annoys you."

"Ah, yes." Quickly, she removed it and set it on a chair. "I was thinking of other things."

"Oh?" He picked up the wine on the tray, the one with the potion in it.

She held her breath.

He raised his eyebrows. "What were you thinking of? These other things?"

"Oh, just home, what my parents are doing. I have not heard from them in a month."

He drank some wine the way he always did, several big mouthfuls.

Joanna held her breath, wondering if it would taste different. If he'd notice.

He shrugged and set his attention on her. "I am sure you will receive a letter soon. They are doting parents. The knights who follow you everywhere are proof of that."

She nearly sighed with relief that he hadn't noticed anything different about his wine. "Are the knights really so tiresome to you?"

"Yes." He drank more wine. "They are." He gestured to the door. "We have an adequate number of skilled warriors here at Coudenberg to ensure our safety. And quite honestly…" He reached for the jug of wine and poured more. "I find it offensive that they think I would hurt you."

She smiled. How could he hurt her in any way, now that he had drunk the love potion?

"I shall order them to be gone," she said, waving her hand in the air and walking to him. "I will speak to Belmonte at dawn. He will not have a problem."

"That would be most agreeable." Philip set the jug and his refilled goblet aside and cupped her cheeks. "My love. My wife. My beautiful Joanna."

Her heart skipped. The potion was working faster than she'd thought. "Philip."

"Have you noticed something different?"

"Different?"

"Yes." He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks.

"I don't know what you mean?" Her heart clattered. He must have guessed about the love potion. He'd be angry, she was sure. He'd demand that she stop any kind of witchery or spell-making. That she confess her sins.

"You are…" He frowned.

"I am what?"

"Pale and you have barely eaten this last week."

"It is true, I have been sick. And I know why…" She paused. "But I don't want to tell you why?"

"You don't?" He raised his eyebrows.

"No." She shook her head and downcast her eyes. It really was most embarrassing to be afflicted so.

"Please, tell me. I want to hear it from you."

"I fear you will not be happy with me."

"Oh, my love, do not think that. I will be. I will be the happiest man in all the land."

"You will?"

He nodded and his eyes sparkled.

"In that case…" She paused. "I am lovesick, I know I am. I love you so much, it has stolen my appetite and made me think I am quite crazy with desire for you."

"Lovesick?" Surprise crossed his face.

"You see?" Irritation suddenly clasped her in its grip. "You are not happy. I knew it."

"Of course I am happy that you love me." He pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers. "I love you too."

"You do?"

"How could you doubt it?" He frowned.

"But you have not said it."

"I am saying it now. I love you. I love you. I love you."

He kissed her again. He tasted of wine and cloves and the figs he'd eaten at dinner and she melted into him.

When he pulled back his expression was serious. "But what I thought you were going to say is…"

"What? Please, tell me."

"That you are pregnant, Joanna. You have not had menses for some time. I thought you were going to tell me you are expecting our first child and that is why you felt sick."

"Menses. What do you know of…?"

"I know enough"—he slid one hand to her flat belly—"to know that we are to be parents, Joanna. You and I have made an heir, and I can't wait to meet him."

"I… I… You really think so?" She stared at a small, wooden cross on the wall. "We have been blessed, by God, with a child?"

"I believe so, my love."

He kissed her and Joanna felt such joy, she wondered that her heart wouldn't beat right out of her chest.