Skye O'Malley (43 page)

She sighed. “I am carrying his child, Robbie. In six months’ time, more or less, I shall present the seventh Earl of Lynmouth with a child, and I pray God it’s a son! And I also pray that his rich, new wife does precisely what his last rich wife did—deliver girls!”

“Marry me, Skye.”

“You are prejudiced, Robbie,” she smiled wanly. “Take me back
inside and I’ll bid de Grenville goodnight. What time do you sail tomorrow?”

“We catch the midday tide. I’ll come in the morning to bid you farewell.”

They walked back through the garden and into the house. De Grenville had fallen asleep in his chair.

“Il est un cochon,”
muttered Marie.

“No,” said Skye.

“He hurt you,
mignon
.”

Skye shrugged. “Better I heard it from him than from a stranger, Marie. Alas, our good wine does not agree with him.”

Suddenly the small dining-room door was flung open and Skye’s bargeman stumbled into the room beside her majordomo, Walters, who gasped, “Madam, the Queen comes!”

“What!?”

The bargeman spoke up. “The Queen, mistress! She’s almost here! She sent a messenger ahead of her on the river.”

“My God, I’m not dressed properly to receive her! Quick, Marie!” And she raced upstairs to her own apartment, calling to Daisy as she ran. “Fetch the burgundy-colored silk with the gold-and-cream-stripped underskirt. The rubies! My gold ribbons! Marie, go back downstairs and have Walters clear the dining room. I’ll want ham, cheeses, fruits, thin sugar wafers, and wines. Have them set on the sideboards in the banquet room. Wake de Grenville and have Robbie sober him!”

Marie turned and ran from the room while the maids fluttered about Skye. She quickly changed her clothes. “Hawise, watch the window! Sing out the second you see the Queen’s barge!”

A few minutes later, as Skye smoothed the wrinkles from the elegant silk gown, Hawise called, “The Queen’s barge is rounding the bend, ma’am!” Skye flew from the room and down the stairs. Catching Robbie and de Grenville by the hands, the trio sped across the terrace, down another garden, and reached the barge, landing moments before the Queen’s boat bumped it. The two men stepped forward to aid Elizabeth as she disembarked, while Skye swept the monarch a magnificent curtsey, her wine-colored skirts billowing gracefully, her dark head lowered in perfect submission.

The young Queen eyed her hostess approvingly. “Rise, Mistress Goya del Fuentes. ‘Pon my soul, you make the most elegant and graceful curtsey I’ve ever seen!”

Standing, Skye thanked the Queen with a smile and Elizabeth
said, “We hope you’ll forgive us this unorthodox visit, but it was brought to our attention that Sir Robert sails tomorrow. We could not allow him to leave on such a lengthy voyage without giving him our good wishes.”

Robbie flushed with obvious pleasure. “Majesty, I am overwhelmed by your kindness.”

“Madam,” said Skye, “will you take refreshment?”

“Thank you, mistress. Sir Robert, de Grenville, you may escort me. Southwood, take Mistress Goya del Fuentes and Mistress Knollys.”

The Queen moved off, leaving Skye stricken. Here was Geoffrey stepping up from the Queen’s barge, handing out a ravishing lovely red-headed girl.

“Skye, may I present the Queen’s cousin Lettice, this is Mistress Goya del Fuentes.”

Lettice Knollys smiled in a friendly fashion, her pale skin glowing and youthful. “We’re of an age,” she said. “May I call you Skye, and you call me Lettice?”

“But of course,” Skye answered. God in Heaven, was this girl the rich match the Queen proposed for Geoffrey?

“It’s good to see you, Skye,” the Earl of Lynmouth murmured softly as he escorted both women up the garden to the house. Behind them the other half-dozen barges that had escorted the Queen were unloading their passengers.

“What a charming house you have,” remarked Lettice. “I have always wanted a small house on the Strand. You do not come to Court, do you?”

“There is no need. And besides, I am not of the nobility. If the Queen invited me, however, I would, of course, obey.”

They had reached the house now, and as they entered, Southwood said quietly, “Lettice, I must speak with Skye. Keep the Queen occupied for me.” Before Skye had time to protest he had whisked her into the library and shut the door firmly.

“I cannot leave my guests! The Queen will notice!” she protested.

“Madam, I have been parted from you for three months now. Have you no warmer welcome for me?”

“Sir, you presume a great deal! I do, however offer you my deepest sympathy on the loss of your wife and children.”

“You knew? How?”

“De Grenville told me earlier this evening.” She turned and walked a little ways from him. “I understand I am also to wish you
felicitations on an upcoming marriage. Is it Mistress Knollys? And will you honeymoon on your barge?”

“I don’t own a barge.”

“Why, sir,” she said scathingly, “did you not win de Grenville’s barge? I understood the wager was his barge against your stallion. He is quite distressed by the loss of the animal.”

“Damn de Grenville for a fool!” swore the Earl. “Sweetheart, listen to me! The bet was made when you snubbed me, on the first day we ever met. I had no intention of collecting on it. It had nothing to do with our falling in love later on. I intended to tell Dickon so, but I forgot it when I was summoned to Devon. That worthless bitch I married had brought my son, Henry, home when there was smallpox in the village. He came home only to die! That she and four of her girls perished as well is only God’s judgment. Then it was touch and go with the three youngest. I stayed on until they were well. I am not entirely heartless, Skye. They’re but four and five.”

“You might have written me!”

“Frankly it did not occur to me. I am not a man of words, Skye. The pox swept through my estates like wildfire, and I was kept damned busy. My bailiff died, among others, and until I could replace him I did his work.”

“You’ve been back at Court for a while, my lord! You might have sent me a message. A posy of flowers. Something! But you were too busy finding an heiress to replace your dead wife! I hate you, Geoffrey! I will never forgive you! You used me like a common trollop! You lied to me!” Angrily she turned away so he might not see the tears springing into her eyes. “I was warned that you were the biggest bastard in London, but God help me I would not believe it!”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I have spent the time since my return to Court arranging my next marriage.” Her shoulders shook, and his ears caught a muffled sob. “The lady I wish to make the next Countess of Lynmouth is one of the most beautiful women in London. She is wealthy, so I need not fear that she seeks my money. Her manners are flawless and she is an excellent hostess, able to deal graciously with those of high and low estate. She is the perfect mate for me.”

His voice was filled with such love and admiration that each word he spoke was like a great knife thrust into her heart.

“There was only one problem that might have prevented the match,” he continued, “so it was necessary that I convince the
Queen that, despite this impediment, I would have no other woman to wife.”

“I-I-I am not interested, my lord Earl.” Turning, she tried to push past him, but he held her fast. Her face was pressed against the velvet of his doublet. “I
must
return to my guests,” she pleaded.

He ignored her. “The lady in question is not English. She claims to be an Irish orphan who wed a Spanish merchant and was then widowed. So I have represented her to the Queen. I know, however, that the story is not true. She was a captive slave of unknown background who was fortunate enough to catch the eye of the great Whoremaster of Algiers. He took her under his protection, and when he was murdered she fled Algiers with his wealth. But I love her, and I want her for my wife. I have convinced the Queen of the wisdom of my choice. She has given me her permission for us to wed.”

Skye pulled away from the Earl, and when she looked up at him her eyes were blazing blue fire.

“I do not know how you have obtained your information. Though your facts are correct you know nothing at all! Yes, I was brought as a captive to Khalid el Bey—that was his name, my lord Earl. I had no memory of who I was or where I had come from, but he didn’t care. He might have made me a whore in one of his houses, or he might have made me his concubine. He did neither. I was indeed under his protection.
But
, my lord Earl, I was also
his wife!
Are you so narrow-minded that you believe a marriage doesn’t exist unless it is celebrated by a Christian priest? The chief mullah of Algiers wed me to my lord Khalid! I was well and truly married!”

She was pacing back and forth now, her burgundy silk skirts swishing angrily. Her hair had come loose, and as she turned to face him again it swung fiercely with her. “My daughter, sir, bears her father’s Christian surname, for he was a Spaniard by birth, driven from that cursed land by the cruelty of the Inquisition. I expect, my lord, that even you can understand that! You will find in the baptismal registry of St. Mary’s Church in Bideford the name of Mary Willow Goya del Fuentes!

“I could not wed with you, my lord! It would be grossly unfair to mingle my unknown blood and tainted body with such as yours. I fully understand the great honor you do me, but
no
!” And pushing past him, she fled the room.

Geoffrey Southwood stood stunned and disbelieving as Robert Small entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“What the hell did you do to her?” growled the little captain.

“I asked her to marry me.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her!” shouted the Earl. “I told her I knew the truth of her past, and it mattered not. I even have the Queen’s permission.”

“Laddie, laddie, you’re a fool. Did she tell you that she has no memory prior to her life in Algiers?”

“Yes.”

“Listen to me, my lord. I am old enough to be your father, and I’ll speak to you as one. Her husband was my best friend in all this world. He was born the second son of an old and noble family, but fate decreed that he live a life far different than that for which he believed himself intended. Whatever his profession, he was a true gentleman in every sense.

“You love Skye. So did he, with all his heart. She was his joy, his pride, and he wanted nothing more than to spend his life with her and the children they wanted to have. He had just learned, before he was murdered, that he was to be a father, and his happiness came close to making me weep.” Robbie breathed deeply and turned to sit. Southwood sat across from him. “I invented Skye’s background in order to protect her and the child. Now, Geoffrey lad, I will help you to bring Skye around, for the stubborn wench loves you and has sighed and wept enough over you these last few months. I don’t suppose she told you she’s with child?”

“Oh my God!” the Earl whispered.

“No?” said Robbie drily. “Well, she is angry with you. Well, we must be firm then. I have just the way to settle this, but you must go along with me in all I say. Agreed?” Southwood slowly nodded. “Come along then, lad, and I’ll show you how to neatly trap a vixen.”

They came back out to the large salon where Skye and the Queen were holding court together, surrounded by a laughing group of courtiers. They worked their way forward carefully until they were next to the young Queen. Elizabeth was looking especially lovely, her glorious red-gold hair a mass of long, loose ringlets, her smoky eyes sparkling. Her gown was of apple-green silk embroidered heavily with gold, small pearls, and topaz.

“Is the guest of honor finally among us?” said the Queen, laughing. “Pray, sir, where have you and my lord Southwood been?”

“Settling the details of the match that’s so dear to your kind Majesty’s heart. As Mistress Goya del Fuentes’
parentis in absentia
, it
was my duty. Now, madam, with your gracious permission I shall delay my departure by one day in order to give the bride away. Can your Majesty persuade the archbishop to waive the banns and wed the happy couple tomorrow?”

Stunned, Skye began to speak, but the Queen clapped her hands with delight. “Sir Robert, it’s an excellent idea! Yes! Yes! The wedding shall be tomorrow at Greenwich. You shall give the bride away, and I shall hostess the wedding party!”

“Majesty, we are honored,” said the Earl, placing a firm arm about Skye. “Are we not, sweetheart?”

“Aye, my lord,” said Skye loudly and sweetly. Then, while everyone chattered excitedly about them, she hissed, “I’d sooner have the pox than marry you!”

“Come, everyone,” cried the Queen. “If Mistress Goya del Fuentes is to be ready to wed at one o’clock tomorrow then we must leave her now. Away to Greenwich!” She turned to Skye. “My dear, you’re a delightful hostess. We have enjoyed ourselves so much. You shall be a credit to the Southwood family, I know. Lynmouth will escort me home. Hie yourself to bed and rest. I should imagine you’ll get little sleep tomorrow night if your betrothed’s reputation is fairly earned.” Chuckling, the Queen departed for her barge.

Skye rounded on Robbie furiously. “I’ll not marry him, do you hear? I’ll not marry him!”

“Indeed you will, Skye lass,” said Robert Small with infuriating calm. “Be sensible, my dear. He knows the truth of your past, and yet he loves you and wants to marry you. Think, Skye! You’ll be the Countess of Lynmouth. And think of the child you’re carrying. Refuse Lynmouth and no one will believe the baby is his, for what woman in her right mind would not marry her child’s father? Then the question will be asked whose child is it. And since you have not socialized with anyone it will be assumed that you coupled with a groom or a footman. The child is lowborn, people will say. Then what will happen to Willow?” With every word he uttered she felt more and more trapped. “I’ll go happily off to sea now, knowing you’re safe, loved, and cared for, Skye,” he finished.

“Damn you, Robbie! If Khalid knew what you’d done—”

“He’d fully approve, Skye, and you know it,” snapped the gruff little man. “Come along now. The Queen is right, and you need your sleep tonight. Tell Daisy what gown you’d wear tomorrow so the maids may freshen it.”