Everyday our headlines are filled with the who and what of
those who hold political office. However, the headlines don't always have to do
with international conflicts or homeland policy. Many times you scroll past your news line and
see something like, "Mark
Sanford Not Marrying His Mistress" or "Felon
Buddy Cianci Running for Mayor Again."
These occurrences have little to do with building international
relations, but instead often only feed the public's desire to participate in
something far more glitzy than their mundane lives.
This has always been the case. Since the beginning of time
the peasantry have longed to watch the rich and powerful eat, drink, wed, work
and on the occasion, completely screw up. Coffee houses in the 19th century
pasted gossip sheets on the walls for the rest of the gentry to dissect what those
in office did the night before. The Romans gathered around whispering over
which senator dripped on their toga.
Why do we watch? What is it about these public figures that
draw the attention of the rest of the world, no matter what else might be happening?
Well, for starters, there's always a great deal of money
disposed of by those who have access to the bank accounts. Marie Antoinette has
always been the poster child for spending the monarchy not only into
bankruptcy, but she's been blamed for class revolution as well. Her
gowns would often cost more than a single worker could earn in a year. But let's not stop at fashion--there're fancy
feasts, elegant balls, famous people speaking to others who live in the
firmament and possibly--just maybe--somebody might muck it all up. It's an ethereal thrill for the rest of the
planet to sit in judgment of those who make the big wheels turns. Our
imaginations take flight--oh, to wear the lace and pearls, dance with a
well-turned out somebody, or simply breathe the same air as a hero for an
evening.
But most of all, when it comes to politics, the excessive
use of cash by those in power will always reflect upon how the commoners perceive
their own country or civilization. If
those in power conduct themselves with all the wealth and elegance of a
civilized person, then those who stand against us will have no choice but to
bow to our superior form of government.
So, bring on the caviar and diamonds! Not only does it
impress those seated across the council chamber, nothing better garners the
support and attention of the masses than a shiny politico.
~~~~
The King's Mistress
S.D. Grady
Genre: Historical Romance set in a
Fantasy world/Erotic Romance
Publisher: Purple Sword Publications
ISBN: 9781612921136
ASIN: B00NYCMC7U
Number of pages: 238
Word Count: 80145
ASIN: B00NYCMC7U
Number of pages: 238
Word Count: 80145
Cover Artist: Traci Markou
Book Description:
Bethina Lydia Fortescue, the Lady Godwin, adored her king as no other for twenty years. But the king is dead, and as his mere mistress she is no longer welcome at court.
Sir Arthur Jeffries, newly appointed to Princess Meredith's Regency Council, needs help. He begs the legendary Lady Godwin to return to the palace as the princess' tutor, hopefully to lead the gawky teenager through the political and romantic minefield of suitors and hidden assassins invited to attend her Debutante Ball.
Bethina and Arthur fight the undeniable surge of attraction between them. Bethina cannot bring herself to put aside the love she had for her king, and now concern for his heir. Arthur knows that he will only be able to serve the princess if he continues his life of solitude. Now is no time to take a courtesan to bed.
Brought together as servants to Rushton's crown, but joined through a lifetime of bitter and shrewd experiences, Bethina and Arthur discover that when the princess finally takes a husband, and all the enemies of the land are vanquished, they will have only one thing left to live for: love.
Excerpt:
The phantom
caress of Freddie's touch conjured long buried memories. Ah, sweet agony. Exuberant in their youth,
she and Freddie had explored all the possible sexual positions together. And now...
She fought
against a tear. That was all in the past. Gone.
She closed her
eyes so she might ignore the overly familiar oil landscape hung over her bed
and the other tiny details that recalled the sweet and torrid memories. Her finger caught at a lace ribbon on the
vanity top and pulled it across the polished wood surface. Her favorite clock ticked. Time passed.
When would the hole in her heart heal?
Anger at her weakness surged. She
grabbed and held onto it.
"Stop being
morbid, Beth. You've got a job to
do." Her voice echoed in the
vaulted room.
A knock sounded
from the outer chamber. She still had an
hour before she expected her first guest.
The tweeny scurried to answer it.
"She's not
quite decent, sir."
Bethina
grinned. Leave it to the young ones to
state the truth. She stood and turned to
welcome whoever it might be, calling out, "Let them in, Laurel. I'm as decent as I'm going to get." It took but a few steps to enter the sitting
room.
The girl
curtsied and opened the door wider. Sir
Arthur stood in the hall, his cap in his hand and eyes wide as he noticed the
extravagance of her chamber.
Once again, that
phantom emotion sprang to life. She couldn't possibly take another lover.
Never. Action would help to stifle her misgivings.
"Come.
Come." She gestured him into the room.
"It's been far too long since these rooms saw a gentleman not bent
on nefarious deeds."
The man blushed,
his grey eyes darkened. "You think
me harmless, Lady Godwin?"
"Hah!" She strode to the chaise, settled down and
reached for the bell. The tweeny
reappeared. "What would you like to
drink, sir?"
Dressed in a
suit of black silk from head to foot, the diplomat evoked an aura of quiet
power. He had not moved since pausing
inside her threshold. "I like to
keep my wits when dining with my enemies and my friends."
Bethina pressed
her lips together before ordering, "Small ale for two."
He remained
still, his gaze boring into hers.
"Do you possess a more modest gown, Lady Godwin?"
She chuckled and
leaned forward just a touch.
"Unlike you, Sir Arthur, it is not to my advantage to fade into
background. A low cut bodice is far more
effective in eliciting confidences than sitting near silent in a corner with a
shawl up to my chin." Even as she
grinned, her melancholy vanished. Thank goodness she had somebody to match wits
with.
He coughed and
appeared to decide she was not about to eat him for lunch. He stretched his long legs out as he settled
in the high-backed chair opposite her perch. He continued to study her. What
did he want?
"Now, why
the early arrival for supper?"
He turned his
attention to the appointments of the chamber; the heavy furniture, damask
curtains, oil paintings. Every feminine
furbelow Trudy could gather dotted all possible surfaces. Lace, china, clocks, jewelry. It appeared as the room of a very wealthy
lady of the nobility. No guest could possibly guess at her sordid past.
"Sir
Arthur?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes.
Sorry. I wondered if you required any more information before we go in
for supper this evening?"
"No, I
think not. Sometimes it is better to
make your own judgments, true?"
He rubbed his
palms together for a moment. "I
would have to agree with that."
So, he was
avoiding speaking his mind. Really, now was not the time to keep secrets from
her.
Laurel appeared
with their drinks, served and withdrew.
Perhaps if she
taunted him.
Bethina ran one
finger along the rim of her glass, collecting the drop of moisture sitting
there and then licked it dry. "You really wanted to see what I had chosen
to wear. Admit it. What would the famed mistress of King
Frederyk do upon her return to court?" She sipped at her ale and decided
the castle boasted a fine master brewer.
"Yes. I am taking a huge risk here. Should we misstep, I shall be back in the desert
of Uiel and you in that house on the river."
"But you
forget, Sir Arthur." She placed her
glass on the small table at her right and drew a heart on the tabletop from the
glass's condensation. "Not once in
two decades was I dismissed from court.
I am good at this."
He smiled and
relaxed in his seat. "As am
I."
She met his
steady gaze. Good. His defenses were coming down. She took a
deep breath, her breasts pressing against her tight bodice. His grey eyes widened. He swallowed. She
followed his Adam's apple down his muscled neck and grinned in appreciation at
his wide shoulders. The years had been
kind to him. The blood beat in her ears
. Her body stirred.
And suddenly it
became clear. He desired her. As much as
she wanted him.
"I didn't
come here for a flirtation." Her protest sounded gravelly.
His cheeks
blazed with color. "I did not
invite you for such."
She waited, as
he appeared to want to say more. In the
end, they simply shared a nod each understood. The heat and lust would wait,
for now. "I am here for Freddie's
niece. She needs me."
He nodded.
"Yes, she does. I think, though,
that I will enjoy working alongside you."
"Just
working?"
The room filled
with unspoken words. Heat. Hushed sighs
beneath covers.
About the Author:
S.D. Grady is a lover of men, music, movies and fast machines. A beautiful gown stirs her blood as quickly as a NASCAR race. An author of historical and fantasy romance, she never hesitates to switch gears and plunge into the real world of sports commentary.
She lives in her house on the hill with her husband of 20 years and their cats. During work hours she runs a movie theatre and, when not writing, enjoys crocheting yet another colorful afghan. Several times a year you can find them at the track in their RV.
The S-Curves blog http://thescurves.blogspot.com/
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