Chapter Fifteen

P hilip sipped wine and then some more. He wished the drink were cooler. He was so hot sitting in the grand room surrounded by stiff conversation and polite formalities.

Louis was seated at the head of the long table, Joanna sat to his right and Philip to his left so they were facing each other.

Behind her stood her knights, though Belmonte was seated at the far end of the table, eating and enjoying the company of the queen and a pretty young nobleman's wife.

"I have grand plans for extending Chateau de Blois," Louis said.

"You do?" Joanna replied politely.

"Yes, a chapel to the right of this room and perhaps something decadent."

"Like what?" Joanna ate a single berry.

"A staircase that spirals like the side of a snail's shell. It is a vision I have."

"A very interesting vision." Joanna smiled. "But, if I may ask, what is your vision for Naples?"

The king studied Joanna, then sat back, elbows on the table and fingers steepled. "Your parents have asked this question coming from your mouth?"

"I have not seen my parents for many years, not since my marriage." She gestured to Philip. "But I am sure my husband would like the answer to that question. My father by law also."

Philip sat up straighter, it was true, he did want to understand Louis's plans in Italy, but it was a conversation he'd planned on having later, when more wine had been imbibed, tongues were looser, and menfolk alone.

"Isn't it obvious, ma chère ?" Louis directed at Philip, despite the endearment to Joanna. "I wish to control the Kingdom of Naples. I wish to control and own it fully. It is my right."

Louis paused, staring Philip down.

Philip held his gaze as he spoke. "You believe it is your right because your predecessor, Charles, declared it to belong to France?"

"Indeed, it does belong to France. The House of Anjou has served there for many years as monarchs."

Philip nodded slowly. "You would not have pressed as far into Italy as you have if it weren't for Milan's help."

"They have been…a benefit." Louis shoved a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewed.

Philip did the same, then took a gulp of wine, the smooth muscles in his neck flexing. "My grandfather wished for peace and my father does also," he said. "So do I."

"There is something to be said for peace," Louis said. "Indeed, my ink has stained many a treaty."

"Which is what I'd like to talk to you about." Philip leaned forward. "It would please the King of the Romans very much if a treaty could be signed securing borders."

Louis looked from Philip to Joanna. "What do you think? Which borders should be protected?"

"France and Burgundy, to begin with," she said quickly.

Philip knew his wife was thinking not just of her children and home, but also the people of Burgundy and the Low Countries. Loyalty was a good quality of hers.

Louis appeared to ponder the suggestion. "And then?" He turned to Philip.

Philip hadn't expected the question to be turned on him, but he thought quickly. While his father held northern territories with an army, he, Philip, as consort and one day King of Spain, had to think bigger. "Spain," he said. "A treaty with King Ferdinand of Aragon would be of great benefit and very progressive of everyone involved."

"Disregarding current territorial disputes," Joanna said with a firm nod. "That is essential."

"Naturally." Louis inclined his head.

"Because…" She paused. "There is no winning in war for our people. Instead, let us think of peace for them because that, and low taxes, is winning."

Louis was quiet.

"I understand that my view is different," Joanna went on, "and although I was brought up by pious parents, I am capable of seeing the world for what it is. Indeed. I have read the diaries of Columbus himself. My views of the world are far-reaching."

Louis raised his eyebrows.

So did Philip's. Columbus, this was news to him.

"The world is a complex place, but not when it comes to a roof over your head, food on the table, and the safety of family," Joanna said. "That is something everyone wants, no matter their wealth, creed, or birthplace. It is human nature the world over."

"You see, Archduke"—Louis pointed at Philip—"you have yourself a wise woman, indeed." He chuckled. "I will consider these treaties carefully. We all have enemies in common, except for the pope, naturally. So plans must be made, alliances sought where possible." He tore a chunk of bread. "Now come on, eat up, and then we will dance and drink and be merry together this night."

*

Philip drank heartily throughout the rest of the meal and watched his wife charm Louis in between making small talk with the wife of a councilor sitting to her other side.

What Philip really wanted to do, now that the subject of a treaty had been broached, was obtain a promise of marriage between his infant son, Charles, and Louis's daughter. It would secure his position and his son's going forward, and on top of that, Maximilian would jump for joy.

He'd never imagined to witness Louis so captivated as he spoke to Joanna. It made Philip feel both proud and irritated and he didn't enjoy the warring of his emotions. His wife was utterly beautiful, yes, and her words were clearly the sweetest honey to Louis despite them being pitted against each other outside of this room.

It still irked Philip considerably that her parents hadn't given him the title of Prince of Asturias—that would have provided him with more sway than merely consort. If he were a prince, it would be him charming the King of France and suggesting treaties and discussing global issues.

But unless he could change Ferdinand's and Isabella's minds on arrival in Toledo in a very short space of time, he'd just have to be patient and seize his moment and princehood in the future—and patient he would be, not least because he wanted his son, Charles, to have the title of King of Spain and grow the Habsburg dynasty deep into the Iberian Peninsular.

Soon the banquet table had been emptied and pushed to the side of the room. The windows had darkened and fires and the chandelier lit. Between two tall candelabras, a harpsichord player struck a chord and a chanson rang out. The lilting verses seeming to draw people into a circle the way a siren might call to sailors.

Philip spoke to a nobleman's wife about the weather and they admired the gilded walls. She was pretty and smiling and keen to point out the details of a tapestry depicting the Garden of Eden.

"My love," Joanna said, suddenly appearing at his side and clasping his arm. "You have been otherwise engaged for quite some time." She switched her eye contact to the woman at his side.

"I'll bid you goodnight, Your Grace," the woman said quickly. "I must seek out my husband for a dance."

He nodded at her politely. "Indeed. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Philip." Joanna scowled up at him as she walked away. "Who is that woman to you?"

"No one. And I am sorry." He smiled at her and was relieved when the crease on her brow softened. "Small talk is all. Being polite."

She kind of huffed and looked about to say more, but he jumped in first. "Come. We should also dance."

She shrugged and allowed him to steer her toward the outer edge of the jollity, where they joined in.

But the dance was stiff and somber and all the time he could feel the pent-up energy in Joanna's body. He'd seen her dance with a frantic tempo in the soles of her feet and her hair spinning and coiling around her face. Had him speaking politely to the wife of another guest upset her so much? He wouldn't put it past her. Jealousy hovered around his wife like a threatening storm.

"That dress is so unbecoming." A voice to his right.

"I know. What was she thinking? She looks like a Spanish vagrant." A mocking giggle.

"Old-fashioned, likely full of moths too."

"The sun has scorched away any good fashion sense."

Philip turned, his hackles rising with each word he'd heard spoken.

Two French courtiers, powdered faces and tightly pinned hair, took a step back. "Your Grace," one of them said, bowing her head and stiffening.

"Do. Not." He pointed at them and fought the heat that rose up his chest. "Do not speak of…"

"We were not speaking of your wife," the other one said hurriedly as she glanced at her accomplice. "Were we, Emmanuelle?"

"No, we were not. Of course not."

"So of whom were you speaking?" A rush of anger was mounting rapidly in him, itching its way up his back and tightening his chest. How dare they be so bold, so disrespectful?

"We were…just…"

"Philip?" Joanna squeezed his arm.

"Tell me," he demanded of the two women. "Confess."

They both looked at Joanna. It was clear they were not going to own up.

"Do not," he said again, "speak of the princess that way." He gritted his teeth. "Do not speak of my wife that way."

"Philip." Joanna touched his cheek and turned his face to hers. "My love, I thank you."

"For what?"

"For keeping the snakes at bay." She turned and glared at the women. "Though eventually, I have no doubt they will become bitter and twisted and killed by their own venom. A fitting end."

The two women shrank backward, into the crowd, quickly retreating to the other end of the long room.

"I should demand they leave court," Philip said, "for disrespecting a guest of the king."

"I did not expect to make friends here." She paused. "And I didn't think you wanted me to wear this gown, yet you defend it."

"I didn't want you to wear it because I knew it would be another thing for which I would have to defend you."

"I can defend myself."

"That might be the case, but you are mine. You have not just my heart, but also my protection." He held up his finger. "And do not say you have your knights, for if they are your swords, I am your shield." He grabbed her hand. "Let's dance again."

"This dance is dull."

"It is French."

"Exactly."

"Shh," he said. "We are guests of the king, remember."

"Of course I remember."

The next dance started, legs crossing to the right and then left, followed by a slow turn. A flute joined the harpsichord, picking up the pace a little.

To Philip's horror, Joanna broke away from him and raised her hands with her fingers bent and pressed against her palms.

"This tune reminds me of jota Aragonesa !" She smiled broadly, her mood suddenly shifting. "My favorite dance." She twirled around, her gown expanding like a bell around her legs and her veil flowing.

"Joanna!" he said, glancing at Louis, who was staring at Joanna with wide eyes. His wife, the queen, did the same at his side.

"Joanna, stop that." He reached for her, but she slipped from his grasp.

"Come on, dance with me." She tipped back her head and laughed then stomped her feet to an even faster tempo and clicked her hands as though she held castanets.

"Joanna." Heat rose on his chest, up his neck, and to his back. He looked around at the aghast faces.

She was whirling and twirling, clapping too, her feet slapping the floor.

"Joanna." He managed to get close to her and curled his arm around her waist. "Stop this."

She stilled. "But I want to dance how I always dance."

"This is not the place for such displays." He steered her away from the center of the circle that had formed around her. "You rub the noses of these people into your Spanishness too much."

"Rub their noses." She laughed. "If they had any sense in the brains behind those noses, they'd dance with fun and freedom in their bodies."

He glanced at Louis. "Please excuse us, and thank you for your hospitality."

Louis inclined his head, his attention locked on Joanna. Thankfully, he appeared more amused than angry.

The crowd parted as he pulled his wife toward the exit of the grand room, her knights close behind. When they stepped outside the music resumed and the hum of conversation picked up.

Conversation about them, no doubt.

"What in heaven's name are you thinking?" he snapped as he strode along, urging her with him.

"What was I thinking?" She bristled. "I was thinking that I had no intention of dancing a stupid French dance when I am not French."

"We are guests of the King of France, or had you forgotten?"

"And you are married, or had you forgotten that?" She tried to pull away from him. "You are married to the heir to the throne of Spain." She paused. "Yet you dare to… You dare…"

He kept her close. "What are you talking about?"

"You. Speaking to that woman. That… that stiff, snub-nosed tart who was at your side before the dancing started. She was spilling words of desire into your ears. I know that because I saw how she looked at you."

"What?" He stared at her, horrified. "The nobleman's wife? I do not even remember her name and she did no such thing."

"I saw you, and I saw her. Lust practically dripped from her eyes."

"She, like me, is married. There was no lust on either side." Philip could hardly believe what he was being accused of.

"You think I am blind?" She shoved at him. "You think I cannot see how you look at other women? Simpering courtiers are just the start."

"How dare you accuse me of such a thing?" He clasped her hand and turned her to face him. "It is wholly untrue and quite unfair."

"So you deny that you flirt with other women?" She laughed, as if he couldn't deny the statement.

"Yes. I do. Wholeheartedly. I only have eyes for you, my wife." He marched her up the stairs.

Her jaw tightened as they headed for their bedchamber, the music fading.

"You do not believe me?" he asked.

"I am in two minds."

He stilled with his palm flat on the door. "I beg your pardon?"

"I have two minds." She shrugged. "For I have not had enough of your attention of late."

His jaw tensed and through the dim light, he studied the flash of daring in her eyes. She was goading him, and she knew exactly what to expect when she did that.

He turned to the knights. "We are to be undisturbed. Ensure that is the case."

The knights said nothing but took up their usual places on either side of the door, hands on the hilts of their swords, eyes staring straight ahead from the dark slashes of their helmets.

"You want attention, wife," he said, shoving at the door so hard, it bounced off the wall. "Step in and you'll get it."

She bit on her bottom lip. Her cheeks had reddened and her breasts were rising and falling with her rapid breaths.

"Joanna," he said. "You ridicule me, rile me up, then accuse me of philandering. You must have known I'd react. I am not a passive man."

Her nostrils flared then with a swish of her dress, she stepped into their bedchamber, the veil on her headdress flowing behind her.

Quickly, he followed, back-kicking the door closed with a deafening slam. Oh, he'd show her attention. He'd make her realize that he had no interest in pretty courtiers or other men's wives. He'd prove it in the most basic, primitive way he knew how.

She tugged off her headdress and dropped it to the bed, turning to him with her hands on her hips. Her expression was defiant and challenging.

He was in front of her in an instant. He curled his fingers into the bodice of her dress and yanked, hard.

She gasped and staggered. The material gaped, her pale breasts, round and soft, spilling forward.

He cupped the right one. Her flesh was warm. He then lowered his face to hers, catching her nipple between two fingers. "I want you now as much I as did the first moment I saw you. And it is only you I want, Joanna."

Her pupils were wide and her lips damp from where she'd just licked them. "I want you more than when I first saw you."

"Can I say nothing right?" He growled.

"It is a fact."

He tweaked her nipple, tugging it until she whimpered. His cock was hardening rapidly and a wild, passionate need gripped him. "You are a frustrating woman."

She reached for his groin and grasped his cock over his breeches. "So satisfy yourself. It is clear from what I feel here, your frustration is great."

The smugness of her smile and the tease in her voice ignited a manic craving in him. It was wild, feral, and it consumed him. "Woman, you have asked for it now." He spun her light frame to face the bed, tipped her forward, then dragged down her hooped skirt so that it sat around her ankles.

"Philip," she panted, twisting and the material of her long sleeves pooling on the bed.

"Stay still." He palmed her pale, round buttocks and squeezed. "You are my wife. You are mine to do with as I wish when I wish, and right now, this is what I wish."

She whimpered and locked her elbows. Several strands of hair came free and bounced around her face.

He fumbled with his breeches, muttering when it took a second too long to free his throbbing cock. He was so hard, it hurt, his erection solid and needy.

"Philip, please…"

"Get ready." He grasped her hips and aimed the tip of his cock at her entrance. Anticipation of her warm, gripping cunny had his heart rate rocketing and he held her firmer so that she couldn't buck away when he entered her. Which he was about to do, hard and fast and as deep as he could go on the first plunge. "Get ready, Joanna, to be thoroughly adored by your archduke."