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The Queen's Christmas Summons
Amanda McCabe
‘Royal courts are glittering places. But there can be many dangers there.’The words of Juan, the shipwrecked Spanish sailor who Lady Alys Drury nursed back to health, echo in her mind as she puts on another courtly smile.Then Alys locks eyes with a handsome man amid the splendour of Queen Elizabeth’s Christmas court—Juan is posing as courtier John Huntley! Alys is hurt at Juan’s deception until she learns he’s an undercover spy for the crown… Even amid the murky machinations of the court, can true love still conquer all?
“Royal courts are glittering places. But there can be many dangers there.”
The words of Juan, the shipwrecked Spanish sailor Lady Alys Drury nursed back to health, echo in her mind as she puts on another courtly smile.
Then Alys locks eyes with a handsome man amid the splendor of Queen Elizabeth’s Christmas court—Juan is posing as courtier John Huntley! Alys is hurt at Juan’s deception until she learns he’s an undercover spy for the crown... Amid the murky machinations of the court, can true love still conquer all?
Praise for Amanda McCabe (#u313f38b3-8dca-5081-a183-163efcbb9c2f)
‘McCabe sweeps readers into the world of the Elizabethan theatre, delighting us with a lively tale and artfully drawing on the era’s backdrop of bawdy plays, wild actors and thrilling adventure.’
—RT Book Reviews on The Taming of the Rogue
‘Including a darling little girl, meddling relatives and a bit of suspense, McCabe’s story charms readers.’
—RT Book Reviews on Running from Scandal
‘McCabe highlights an unusual and fascinating piece of history whilst never losing sight of the romance or adventure.’
—RT Book Reviews on The Demure Miss Manning
Alys put on her courtly smile, prepared to meet another of Ellen’s peacock friends—and the smile froze before it could form.
It had not been an illusion, a fleeting trick of her tired mind. It was him—Juan. Right there before her when she had been so sure she would never see him again—could never see him again. She shivered and fell back a step, suddenly feeling so very cold.
He did not quite look like her Juan, bearded and ragged from the sea. He was just as tall, but his shoulders were broader, and he wore no beard to hide the elegant angles of his sculpted face, his high cheekbones and sharp jawline, his sensual lips. He wore courtly clothes of purple velvet trimmed with silver, a high, narrow ruff at his throat. But his eyes—those brilliant summer-green eyes she had once so cherished—widened when his glance fell on her.
The Queen’s Christmas Summons
Amanda McCabe
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
AMANDA MCCABE wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen—a vast epic, starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class. She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA®, Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers’ Best, the National Readers’ Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion. She lives in Oklahoma with her husband, one dog and one cat.
Books by Amanda McCabe
Mills & Boon Historical Romance
and Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks
Bancrofts of Barton Park
The Runaway Countess
Running from Scandal
Running into Temptation (Undone!)
Linked by Character
A Notorious WomanA Sinful AllianceHigh Seas StowawayShipwrecked and Seduced (Undone!)
Stand-Alone Novels
Betrayed by His Kiss
The Demure Miss Manning
The Queen’s Christmas Summons
More Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks by Amanda McCabe
To Court, Capture and Conquer
Girl in the Beaded Mask
Unlacing the Lady in Waiting
One Wicked Christmas
An Improper Duchess
A Very Tudor Christmas
Visit the Author Profile page
at millsandboon.co.uk (http://millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
For Kyle, for three lovely years—so far
Contents
Cover (#u93b4dabe-9cf8-580b-a5b8-e205eac22a1d)
Back Cover Text (#ucd9c7e3a-3cd9-5c02-b54a-6ec73f7eaed2)
Praise (#ud93f3892-b8e5-5f25-ba5c-c8441e831e99)
Introduction (#ueca87518-415c-547d-aad6-174e6a9453ce)
Title Page (#u681f252c-a0e6-59af-9613-e7e3d8a6b624)
About the Author (#uddf594b6-1fb5-522d-921c-ebc275fb3d17)
Dedication (#u5f910b1a-2027-545b-b12f-b046ff4623ff)
Prologue (#ucc470f43-25c5-5191-b50d-43d336378dfd)
Chapter One (#u03cf5e8c-a8d3-5dab-bc2f-ee24d80ec7ab)
Chapter Two (#u8e9145bc-ec3c-5ad4-a568-dbc588e000c0)
Chapter Three (#uc62f17a9-3f0d-5960-86d2-aa57482a30cd)
Chapter Four (#u601d05ee-07ba-50c7-bb7a-772a78160fd7)
Chapter Five (#u9262ed7a-aa05-5da8-b676-e02075a2ee62)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#u313f38b3-8dca-5081-a183-163efcbb9c2f)
Richmond Palace—1576
‘You must stay right here, Alys, and not move. Do you understand?’
Lady Alys Drury stared up at her father. Usually, around her, he was always smiling, always gentle, but today he looked most stern. In fact, she did not understand. In all her eight years, her father had never seemed so grave. The man who was always laughing and boisterous, ready to sweep her up in his arms and twirl her around, could not be seen. Ever since they journeyed here, to this strange place, a royal palace, her parents had been silent.
After long days on a boat and more hours on bumpy horseback, riding pillion with her mother, they had arrived here. Alys wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew she did not like this place, with its soaring towers and many windows, which seemed to conceal hundreds of eyes looking down at her.
‘Yes, Papa, I understand,’ she answered. ‘Will we be able to go home soon?’
He gave her a strained smile. ‘God willing, my little butterfly.’ He quickly kissed her brow and turned to hurry away up a flight of stone steps. He vanished through a doorway, guarded by men in green velvet embroidered with sparkling gold and bearing swords. Alys was left alone in the sunny, strange garden.
She turned in a slow circle, taking in her fantastical surroundings. It was like something in the fairy stories her nursemaid liked to tell, with tall hedge walls surrounding secret outdoor chambers and strictly square beds of flowers and herbs.
And the garden was not the only strange thing about the day. Alys’s new gown, a stiff creation of tawny-and-black satin, rustled around her every time she moved and the halo-shaped headdress on her long, dark hair pinched.
She kicked at the gravelled pathway with her new black-leather shoe. She wished so much she was at home, where she could run free, and where her parents did not speak in angry whispers and worried murmurs.
She tipped back her head to watch as a flock of birds soared into the cloudy sky. It was a warm day, if overcast and grey, and if she was at home she could climb trees or run along the cliffs. How she missed all that.
A burst of laughter caught her attention and she whirled around to see a group of boys a bit older than herself running across a meadow just beyond the formal knot garden. They wore just shirts and breeches, and kicked a large brown-leather ball between them.
Alys longed to move closer, to see what game they played. It didn’t look like any she had seen before. She glanced back at the doorway where her father vanished, but he hadn’t returned. Surely she could be gone for just a moment?
She lifted the hem of her skirt and crept nearer to the game, watching as the boys kicked it between themselves. As an only child, with no brothers to play with, the games of other children fascinated her.
One of the boys was taller than the others, with overly long dark hair flopping across his brow as he ran. He moved more easily, more gracefully than the boys around him. Alys was so fascinated by him that she didn’t see the ball flying towards her. It hit her hard on the brow, knocking her new headdress askew and pushing her back. For an instant, there was only cold shock, then a rush of pain. Tears sprang to her eyes as she pressed her hand to her throbbing head.
‘Watch where you’re going, then!’ one of the boys shouted. He was a thin child, freckled, not at all like the tall one, and he pushed her as he snatched back the ball. ‘Stupid girls, they have no place here. Go back to your needlework!’
Alys struggled not to cry, both at the pain in her brow and at his cruel words. ‘I am not a stupid girl! You—you hedgepig.’
‘What did you call me, wench?’ The boy took a menacing step towards her.
‘Enough!’ The tall boy stepped forward to pull her would-be attacker back. He shoved the mean boy away and turned to Alys with a gentle smile. She noticed his eyes were green, an extraordinary pale green sea-colour she had never seen before. ‘You are the one at fault here, George. Do not be ungallant. Apologise to the lady.’
‘Lady?’ George sneered. ‘She is obviously no more a lady than you are a true gentleman, Huntley. With your drunken father...’
The tall boy grew obviously angry at those words, a red flush spreading on his high, sharp cheekbones. His hands curled into fists—and then he stepped back, his hand loosening, a smile touching his lips. Alys forgot her pain as she watched him in fascination.
‘It seems you must be the one who took a blow to the head, George,’ Huntley said. ‘You are clearly out of your wits. Now, apologise.’
