14.3.10

Sources

I have used many sources in the writing of this book. For readers who wish to explore the subject further I can recommend the list below as being the most useful to me. I would like to acknowledge the Project Gutenburg Collection for many of the out of print books.


Memoirs of Marguerite, Queen of Navarre.
Henry III, King of France and Poland by Martha Walker Freer. 1888
The Later Years of Catherine De Medici – Edith Helen Sichel. 1908
Illustrious Dames of the Court of the Valois Kings: Marguerite, Queen of Navarre by Pierre de Bourdeille and C. A Sainte-Beuve. Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. 1912
Queen of Hearts – Charlotte Haldane. 1968
History of the Reign of Henry IV by Martha Walker Freer. 1860
The Favourites of Henry of Navarre by Le Petit Homme Rouge. 1910
The History of Protestantism by J. A. Wylie. 1878
Nostradamus, the Man Who Saw Through Time by Lee McCann. 1941
The French Renaissance Court by Robert J. Knecht. 2008
Catherine de Medici – Leonie Frieda. 2003
Renaissance Woman by Gaia Servadio. 2005
Delightes for Ladies by Hugh Plat. 1609

5.3.10

Extract from Hostage Queen




A drawing of Margot by Clouet.
And here is one of the Duke of Guise. Isn't he gorgeous?




Margot was walking along the passage from her husband’s apartments to her own chamber when an arm suddenly hooked about her waist, and with a small squeal of alarm she found herself pulled behind an arras into an ante-room.

Before she could draw breath to protest, a mouth had closed over hers in a long, demanding kiss. Quite unable to move, being trapped between the unforgiving door and the powerful breadth of a man’s chest, she succumbed completely to the pleasure of it. But then it was a truly wonderful kiss.When she was finally released, she gave the perpetrator of this outrage a sharp slap across his handsome face, even though she’d known instantly that it was Henri of Guise. How could she not, having savoured the delicious taste of his lips more times than were quite proper in a young girl?

Entirely unconcerned by her reaction, he put back his fine head with its cut of close cropped curls, and laughed. ‘I thought you’d avoided me long enough, my pretty, and that it was time we got re-acquainted.’

Margot straightened her gown, flustered by the warm flush of excitement on her cheeks. ‘And you thought that was the way to go about it, did you?’

He smiled at her, a molten power in his liquid, dark-eyed gaze. ‘I needed to gain your attention.’

‘You have most certainly achieved that,’ and she laughed suddenly, tremulous, nervous, and as delighted as he by the encounter. But then, instantly ashamed of herself for this apparent betrayal, Margot scowled crossly at him. ‘I should not, by rights, even be speaking to you. I will admit that I do not believe all the rumours I hear about the Princes of Lorraine, nevertheless we are enemies now, you and I.’