Margaret Tudor (sassy_margaret) wrote in tudorcourt, |
Even if she regretted it in the morning she wouldn't openly admit to it -- she would ruin Henry's alliance with Portugal and find herself in all kinds of trouble. She had taken grasp of Charles, wrapping her arms around his neck when he carried her to bed. She cared not for the lacing or latches of her dress -- she wanted him, she wanted to drown herself in his passion and forget everything around her. She wanted to be caught in the rhythm of his rocking and forget the rocking of boat that was dragging her to her fate, she wanted the heat of his kisses and not the thought of the deathly cool lips of the aging man she'd have to kiss until he died. She wanted to curse him for even saying it -- he never second thought any other woman but he would stop this desperate one for a reminder. Her hands dropped to the front clasps of his pants, quickly undoing them -- hoping he got the point.