Skye O'Malley (63 page)

“Indeed you may, laddie!” Robert Small lifted the delighted boy up onto his shoulders. “Willow! You and Robin come with me and I’ll show you the presents I’ve in my saddlebags for you.”

Skye smiled, glad to see her children happy again. It had been so solemn at Lynmouth for so long. She walked from the Great Hall out into the castle gardens that ran along the cliff tops. At the garden’s end she passed through the gates into the Southwood family cemetery, and made her way to Geoffrey’s tomb. She had plucked a single white rose on her way through the gardens, and now she lay it on Geoffrey’s grave.

“Robbie is back, Geoffrey,” she said, “and the voyage was a wonderful success. I’m putting your percentage into Robin’s coffers, my darling, and I shall go up to London myself to speak to the Queen. I must rid myself of Dudley! ’Tis not just his lust that frightens me,
but his greed. The man is too ambitious, Geoffrey. Oh, my darling, I need you so very much! Why did you have to leave me?”

Then she sighed deeply. This simply had to stop. She had gotten in the habit of coming to Geoffrey’s grave every day, and speaking to him as if he were actually there. It gave her a strange comfort. Immediately following his death she had believed she felt his presence near her. But that feeling was gone now.

“It’s because you really are gone from me now, isn’t it, my love?” she whispered sadly.

A gentle sea wind teased at her hair. She felt the unbidden tears suddenly slipping down her cheeks, and for the first time since his death she cried without forcing herself to stop. There was no one to see or hear her, and she did not need to be brave for the children’s sake.

It was there that Robert Small found her. Wordlessly he gathered her into his arms and offered his silent sympathy. He said nothing, for there was nothing he could say. But his very presence, familiar and loving, gave her comfort. As her sobs finally lessened he sought for and found a reasonably clean silken square in his doublet and offered it to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Better?” he asked.

“Thank you. I cried when he died, but only for a moment, for the children were all there, and they were frightened, and my wailing would have only made it worse for them. There hasn’t been much time for mourning since then.”

“Until today.”

She nodded. “I suddenly realized that he is actually gone. I am really alone again, Robbie.”

“You’ll remarry one day, Skye.”

“Not this time, Robbie. I’ve buried two men whom I loved greatly, and I’ll not go through that again.”

“Then you will have to take a powerful lover, m’dear. You’ve already seen that a beautiful widow is the prey of blooded rakes.”

“Never! I intend to rid myself of Lord Dudley and then return to Devon to live until Robin is of age. He and Willow are my chief concerns. And Robbie—should anything happen to me, I have arranged that you and Dame Cecily be my daughter’s guardians. I knew that would be all right with you.”

“What is it you’re planning, Skye? I can almost see the little wheels turning in your pretty head.”

She smiled softly. “Nothing, yet, Robbie. First I must go to London. Time enough afterward to decide my fate.”

The following morning, Skye and Robbie departed from Lynmouth and headed northeast to London. A messenger had ridden on ahead of them to see that Lynmouth House was ready to receive its mistress, and to take word to the Queen that Sir Robert Small had returned to England and sought an immediate audience with Elizabeth, in company with the Countess of Lynmouth. They reached London safely several days later. Upon entering her house, Skye found to her fury that the Earl of Leicester waited for her.

“Your impetuousness in following me to London delights me, my sweet Skye,” he teased, kissing her hand.

She snatched her hand from his grasp. Skye had a headache from riding in a closed coach on a warm day, the dust from the road having necessitated the closing of the windows. She glared stonily at Dudley while, below, her Robert Small was hard put not to howl his laughter at the look of surprise on Dudley’s face when she said to him, “Go to Hell, m’lord!” Pushing past him, she stamped up the stairs to seek the comfort of her own apartment.

Foolishly he followed along next to her. “I hadn’t expected the pleasure of your company for several more weeks, my sweet Skye,” he murmured in what he believed was a seductive voice. “I must dance attendance on Bess at Whitehall until well past midnight, but afterward my sweet Skye …” he breathed.

Skye stopped in midstep and whirled about. “There will be
no
afterward, my lord Dudley! My head aches! My monthly courses are upon me! I have spent three days being bumped to bits in a coach and three nights avoiding drunks and bedbugs in noisy inns. I am tired. I intend going to bed.
Alone!
Now get the hell out of my house!” And she continued on her way upstairs. The next sound was the mighty slamming of her chamber door.

Openmouthed, the Earl of Leicester could only stare after the Countess of Lynmouth. Below him, Robert Small chuckled softly, then drawled, “She’s a bit testy from the trip, my lord. But then, having once had a wife yourself, you’ll understand that.”

Dudley stared at the little captain for a moment then slowly descended the stairs and said menacingly, “Don’t try to interfere, Captain. I have already laid my claim to the lady.”

Robbie felt cold anger begin burning within him. “The decision is with the lady, my lord. Remember that, lest I should have to remind you of it.”

Dudley moved toward the door, then turned. “Bess and Cecil will see you tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Think not to undermine
me with the Queen. You cannot.” Then, after a brief bow, Dudley left.

Arrogant bastard, thought Robbie savagely. Skye was right. She would best be rid of him, and quickly. He was no fit guardian for Robin, and he’d drive her to something rash if he continued to harass her. She’d not take it much longer.

The following morning as they were ushered into William Cecil’s closet Robbie thought he detected the light of battle in Skye’s bearing. The black of mourning became her, adding to her warrior’s appearance. They greeted Cecil, and then Robbie sketched out the success of his voyage to the Queen’s chief advisor. Cecil nodded, listening, then said, “Your report is most encouraging, Sir Robert. Both Her Majesty and I agree that England’s future prosperity lies in trade. Your success indicates the wisdom of that belief.”

“Will it be possible to see the Queen, sir?” asked Robbie. “I have a small token to present to her, and I know that my lady Southwood would speak privately with her regarding the future of her son, the little Earl.”

“The match with de Grenville’s daughter? I have advised Her Majesty to permit the betrothal, Lady Southwood. It is a good one and in the best interests of both families.”

“Thank you, my lord. But there is one other thing I must speak with Her Majesty about.”

“My dear,” said Cecil in a kindly fashion. “If you would accept a bit of advice from an old man who knows the Queen well—
don’t
. Elizabeth Tudor, like her father before her, is blind in both eyes when it comes to those she loves.”

“I must try, sir,” persisted Skye.

William Cecil smiled ruefully. The Countess of Lynmouth was a strong and stubborn woman. But then, so was the Queen. Seeing these two lock horns should prove interesting if not actually explosive. “I will call Her Majesty now,” he said, resigned.

Elizabeth Tudor entered the room a few moments later. She was expecting the French ambassador that morning, and was dressed in a magnificent cloth-of-gold gown adorned with ropes of pearls. She was, if possible, growing more regal with every passing day. “My dear Skye,” she held out her hands in greeting, “how good it is to see you again.” She turned. “Sir Robert! Cecil tells me your voyage was successful. We are very pleased!”

“It was quite profitable, madam, and I have brought you a small token of my crews’ affections for their beloved Queen.” He lifted a beautiful cedarwood casket and held it out to her. “Every piece
there is a part share belonging to every man. Each man gave voluntarily and with love, a piece of the fruits of his labor.”

The Queen accepted the small chest and placed it on the table. She opened it slowly and her eyes widened appreciatively at the riches within. There were Indian Ocean pearls in every shade of white, cream, pink, gold, and black. She fingered flashing Burmese rubies, sparkling Ceylon sapphires so like dear Skye’s marvelous eyes, cold and fiery Golconda diamonds. There were also several silk bags filled with precious spices—fat nutmegs, long smooth sticks of cinnamon, pods of vanilla beans, tiny, sharp cloves, and round black peppercorns.

The Queen beamed at the captain delightedly. “Robert Small, your men could not have given me a lovelier gift. You’ll thank them for me, and tell them this: the Queen says that as long as England has such brave sons, she will be invincible. Now, gentlemen, you will leave us so that dear Skye and I may visit. I want to learn all about my wee godson’s progress.”

The two men bowed from the room. There was a long silence after they had gone. The Queen spoke first. “Cecil has persuaded me that the match you propose between little Robin and Alison de Grenville is a suitable one. We have therefore given our permission, dear Skye.”

“Your Majesty is most kind. But I would beg a further boon.”

Elizabeth inclined her head.

“Since Your Majesty has approved this match, would you not also relieve Lord Dudley of his guardianship of my son, and appoint Dickon de Grenville in his place? Under the circumstances ’twould be more natural, and certainly more convenient for de Grenville than for my lord Dudley.”

“Dudley remains my choice,” said Elizabeth firmly.

The tone of the Queen’s voice irritated Skye. Why was she interfering this way? “May I remind Your Majesty,” she said sharply, “that my late husband made me sole guardian over our children, an arrangement Your Majesty chose to overrule though I could never see the sense of it.”

“Only in the case of my godson, madam,” retorted the Queen. “The child needs a man’s influence in his life. I have provided him with the best man in England for that influence.”

“Robin has de Grenville and Robbie as well as his halfbrothers for male influence, Majesty,” argued Skye.

“Dudley is proud to have the care of little Robin Southwood. He has told me so himself,
my dear Skye
,” the Queen argued back.

“I do not wish Robin to be under the influence of anyone from Court, madam. Not now. He is far too young.
I
am his mother, and that decision is my right.”

“No, my lady Southwood,” the Queen replied icily. “Robin’s fate is my decision as his Queen! Lord Dudley will remain his governor.”

Skye finally lost her fine Irish temper. “Dammit, madam! Don’t you really know why Dudley wants charge of my son?”

“Yes, my dear Skye, I do,” said Elizabeth Tudor.

Shocked, the Countess of Lynmouth looked deeply into the Queen’s jet-black eyes. What she saw there made her shiver. “My God,” she said softly. “
You do know!
Oh, madam, how could you? How could you give me to that man? My husband and I were always your loyal servants. Is this how you reward our loyalty?”

The Queen looked angrily at Skye. “Madam, you try my patience, but because I value you I shall explain. Repeat what I tell you, however, and I shall deny it while you languish in the Tower. I shall never marry, my dear Skye, for if I did I should be neither a Queen nor a woman in my own right. I have seen how men can overrule women. As long as England has only a Queen to rule her, that shall not happen to me.

“My half-sister, Mary, never fully recovered from what my father did to her, and to her unfortunate mother, Catherine of Aragon. Their lives were ruined by my father. Poor Mary! He had cosseted and spoiled her from birth, then suddenly one day all that love was withdrawn and she was torn from her own mother, whom she never saw again, and declared a bastard.

“My own mother, I am told, was under constant pressure to produce a son. When she failed her life was wantonly taken. As for me, I never knew where I stood with my father. One day I was his darling, the next day I was sent down to Hatfield in disgrace. I learned, my dear Skye. I learned.

“Jane Seymour was, I think, fortunate to die. For all his fine mourning he did not care, for he had what he wanted—a son! Of my other three stepmothers Anne of Cleves was wise enough to give Henry Tudor what he wanted the most—a quick divorce. Poor Cat Howard, my mother’s cousin, lost her head as my mother did. I can still hear that tragic girl’s frantic cries when she realized they had come to take her to the Tower. She tried to reach my father, and they dragged her screaming from his chapel door.” The Queen shuddered with the memory.

“Catherine Parr was fortunate enough to outlive my father and marry the man she loved. I went to live with her and her new husband after my father’s death, you know. The Lord High Admiral of England, Sir Thomas Seymour, was my stepfather. He was the handsomest man I’ve ever seen, and the greatest rogue who ever lived. While my stepmother grew bigger and sicker with his child, he planned my seduction. He did not think Catherine would survive the birthing and he sought power to thwart his older brother, Edward, who was my little brother’s guardian. He might have succeeded with me, for I was so innocent, but Kate realized his intent when she caught him kissing me in a very unfatherly fashion. I was sent from her house in disgrace, and when she died some weeks later of a childbed fever, Tom Seymour tried to marry me. He shortly thereafter lost his head. There were those who sought to implicate me in his perfidy, but I escaped them! I quickly learned that women who seek power in a man’s world—and make no mistake about it, my dear Skye, this is a man’s world—women like that have no friends among either sex. I am a woman who has power. I do not intend to hand it over to a man, not after all I have learned, and all I have suffered.

“After my sister Mary became Queen she became more and more suspicious of me. Strangely it was a man who was responsible for saving me: my brother-in-law, King Philip of Spain. Nevertheless I was sent to the Tower, and there I renewed my brief acquaintance with Robert Dudley. I love him, but I can never be his wife, and I most certainly will not be his mistress. He is not wise enough to understand this so I flirt with him, and I give him the things he wants, in order to keep his hopes alive and his interest in me from straying. I cannot lose him. I cannot.