Forbidden Love

"I hereby dub thee the Second Earl of Essex," Elizabeth proclaimed, touching the tip of her sword to the head of Robert Devereux, who knelt before her. "I also confer upon you the title Master of the Horse and entrust you with the royal monopoly on sweet wines."

"I am deeply honored, Your Majesty," Robert told Elizabeth. "I'll certainly do my best to make you proud of me."

For Elizabeth, having Robert Devereux at court was like a breath of fresh air. His lively personality and eloquent mannerisms so reminded her of her dearly departed husband that at times she found herself almost forgetting that he was, in fact, a different man.

Elizabeth's son Robert looked at the relationship between his mother and Robert Devereux with disdain.

"It's absolutely ridiculous, that's what it is!" the Prince complained to his wife Anna. "She acts like a woman half her age!"

"I should think you'd be glad to see her smile again. She took your father's passing so very hard," Anna replied.

"I know," Robert said. "It isn't that I begrudge her happiness. I'm simply concerned about her image and how her subjects see her."

"As long as she's happy, perhaps that's not so important after all," Anna replied.

Robert sighed deeply and shook his head.

For a time all was well, but problems soon arose. Overconfident in his abilities, Devereux persuaded Elizabeth to appoint him Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. He set out on an exhibition to defeat Hugh O'Neill, the Earl of Tyrone. The expedition was a failure, and Devereux was forced to make a truce with O'Neill. Humiliated, Elizabeth forbid Devereux's return to England.

One morning Elizabeth was in her bedchamber at Nonsuch Palace when she heard a noise and, expecting an intruder, shouted for her guards.

"It's only me," said a voice she knew well. Shocked, she turned to look into the eyes of Robert Devereux.

Her surprise quickly turned to rage.

"How dare you return to England after I expressly forbid it!" she shouted.

"I have a general warrant," Robert said smoothly. "I can return to England any time I want."

Elizabeth began to cuff Robert about the ears as she ranted. "After your disgraceful failure in Ireland, what kind of reception do you expect from me? Did you think I'd be happy to see you again?"

A look of anger flashed across Robert's face, and he half drew his sword. Elizabeth's eyes bugged out.

"You would dare draw your sword on your Queen?" she shrieked.

"No." Robert grinned impishly at her, then without warning planted a hot kiss onto her lips.

Suddenly all the loneliness, the emptiness, the yearning for physical affection Elizabeth had experienced since her husband's death came to a head. Quivering with desire, Elizabeth almost swooned. She felt Robert's strong arms supporting her, then lifting her and carrying her back to the bed.

Suddenly Robert's lips were kissing Elizabeth all over her face, and he had quickly dispensed with her nightgown.

Naked except for her panties, the aging Queen felt her head spinning as she realized that things were moving much too fast. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a steep precipice looking down, dizzy with fear and...something else. Desire. Yes. She wanted this, Robert Devereux's hands all over her, driving her wild.

She barely noticed as his fingers gently slid her panties down her legs and then tugged them completely off. First his fingers, then his lips, began to stimulate her most intimate parts, driving her to new heights of ecstasy.

Then he was on top of her and inside her, making love to her. She didn't even stop to consider whether it was right or wrong. All she knew was that she wanted it more than she'd wanted anything in a very long time.

In the beginning they were very successful at hiding their love affair. If their gazes lingered a bit longer than they should, if they clasped hands a bit too often, no one seemed to notice. Until one fateful morning.

Prince Robert needed to discuss a matter of urgency with his mother. It was, in fact, a matter of such urgency that he forgot both the earliness of the hour and the propriety of having himself announced before entering his mother's bedchamber. However, immediately upon entering, he saw a sight that quite made him forget both the urgency of the matter and the matter itself.

There in his mother's bed lay Robert Devereux, the Queen's head resting against his naked chest. Both of them were fast asleep.