"George, my boy, I promise you will be very happy at Court!" My uncle was hardly making me feel better. I was twenty-two years old, and I had been safe and content in my old home in southern England, where I had been raised. I was worldly and handsome, with long dark hair and a finely chiseled face, but this had not been enough. No: my mother's brother had to see that I accomplished all that he wished me to. "The King will like you." I made a face. "He is a homely Scot, from what I've heard, and surrounds himself with more favourites than Old Queen Bess had." Queen Elizabeth I had died eleven years ago, and now her successor, King James I of Scotland and England, was in London with his young family and many male favourites. "But he is King." "I am young, uncle!" I argued, looking out of the coach window discontentedly. "I am more than twenty-five years younger than he is! Would you wish me to play the harlot to a barbaric, aging lecher?" We said nothing more. London, unlike I had thought it would be, was appealing. And the Court at Whitehall was beautiful. I began to wonder if it would be so terrible here, so long as I stayed out of the King's bed. The thought of cuddling with a Scottish man (whether King or no) held no appeal for me. James had been King for eleven years, and still the people were unaccustomed to his Scottish ways. As I approached him in the throne room to be presented, I observed him carefully. He was not so bad looking as I thought; he had wavy hair that shone in the sun's light, and his heavy-lidded eyes and sensuous mouth made him look almost handsome. I suddenly remembered talk that his mother, Mary, the Queen of Scots, had been very beautiful. Perhaps stories of James' ugliness were bitter falsehoods from supporters of a different faction than the Scottish. Next to him sat an incredibly handsome young man with a strong build quite visible through his thin silk doublet. He had fair blond hair and a dark, handsome complexion. I could see why the King was so taken with Lord Robert Carr. Nearby sat the Queen. Now I could truly see why poor James turned from the woman to his handsome, sensual male lovers. She was not unattractive, but she was aging and seemed a little strange. The poor woman was probably the laughingstock of the Court, I thought. "And who is this, brought before us?" asked James to Robert Carr. The King's favourite looked down on me and smiled, almost condescendingly. I made a low bow before the man could speak and said clearly, "Your Royal Majesty, I am George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham." I am sure there was a sparkle in the older man's eyes, a tenderness; if it was passion, it seemed controlled more strongly by a romantic interest. But I do not doubt that there was love in those eyes. Robert Carr seemed uneasy that James was staring at me so. As the King's paramour, it would be terrible for him if he lost his position in the royal bedchamber. He cleared his throat. "Welcome to Court, young Villiers. I am Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset." I bowed and smiled at him, noting his handsome face and strong build. I thought of what my uncle wished for me to do . . . and I almost wished I could make love to the Earl of Somerset instead of the King of England. But more guests were coming, and I was forced to leave the romantic King and his incredible-looking lover. It was late in the night, almost a week after my coming to Court. I had made little real progress in my wooing of James I of England, but I knew it was coming along: the way he looked at me, smiled at me, and kissed my hand in private greeting was proof enough that soon we would become more intimate. I was in my room undressing before the mirror, examining myself for physical flaws to perfect before seducing the King. Suddenly I saw the curtains of my canopied bed stir, and I shivered. Was someone in my room, watching me, waiting for the right moment to… "Villiers." I spun around to the bed, and I flung open the curtains. To my shock and indignation, lying on my pillows was the Earl of Somerset. Robert Carr smiled lazily at me, winking slyly. "You keep late hours, sir." I was too indignant to come up with a reply. "What are you doing…?" "Shut up." He silenced me with a wave of his well-muscled arm, quite visible underneath the slight robe that rested against the jutting, muscular chest. "I'm here to discuss a matter of mutual interest." "And what would that be, my lord of Somerset?" He grinned, an unbelievably arousing expression that made my trousers tighten. "Seduction of the Crown; becoming the royal harlot." I narrowed my eyes. "I would not stoop to your games." "Stoop?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He pushed himself up off of the covers and opened the robe, revealing the most beautiful body I had ever seen. He was powerfully built: firm, rounded muscles that cleaved his chest into two symmetrical, beautiful halves; a taut, muscled stomach and firm, strong arms. His member was large and well hung, although I noted it was slightly smaller than mine, although perfectly shaped and quite thick. I tried to resume an expression of nonchalance, but I know I stared. He chuckled. "You like stronger, dominant men?" He slipped from the bed gracefully, tucking his arm behind my head. "Noblemen?" Our lips met, and I crushed my mouth against his, savouring the sweet taste inside, sweeping my tongue around the interior of his mouth. His body pressed against mine, and I felt myself go rigid. "Royal men?" I heard him whisper with his silken voice as his hands slipped to my belt. I pulled away abruptly, despite my yearning. Physically and emotionally, I was more than prepared to surrender myself to this god of a man, to be crushed beneath his weight as he made love to me. But I had more class and cunning than he thought. "Leave me." He stopped, his muscles almost quivering, his erection still firm and pointed, his beautiful face confused. "What?" "Leave me, lest the King himself hear of his whore's infidelity!" Carr stared at me for a minute or so, angry and embarrassed, and then he flung his robe together, threw open the door, and stormed from my chambers. Robert Carr, I knew, would never be my lover; he would, however, be keen competition. Now that I had a taste of both the man and his mettle, I was prepared to set my sites on the King himself. The battle had been engaged.
