Skye O'Malley (77 page)

It was difficult to wait, but they did. Adam de Marisco returned to Lundy where he paced his entire island at least two dozen times during the next few weeks.

Robert Small rode home to Wren Court, where he spent his time handling the business of the trading company that belonged to him and Skye. French Jean, Skye’s secretary, took the brunt of Robbie’s
bad temper and, but for his loyalty to his mistress, would have packed up Marie and the children and returned to Brittany.

Niall worried that their plan might fail. What would they do in that case? But he kept his fears from the children. The separation from his mother had matured Robin Southwood. Without Skye to shield and protect her little son, with his stepfather’s strong and kind influence, the young Earl of Lynmouth was made very aware of his position and rose to the challenge.

Willow, her mother’s daughter for all she looked like Khalid el Bey, tried hard to replace Skye, sitting between Robin and Niall at the high board and presiding over the household staff. At first the servants tolerated her with benign amusement. Soon, to their horror, they discovered a far sterner taskmistress than their own Countess was. Their complaints to Niall fell upon deaf ears. Unless Willow was in the wrong he supported her fully, and the young girl blossomed under her stepfather’s wise support.

Several weeks slipped by, and then finally Robert Small received word that the
Gazelle
and her escort ship,
Mermaid
, were at anchor in the London Pool. He rode hard for Lynmouth. That night in the west tower of the castle a green signal light beamed across the eleven miles of water separating Lynmouth and Lundy. At dawn the following day, three caped riders clattered across the castle drawbridge and down the lane to the London road.

It was rainy that late March day, and the empty roads were muddy. The fog was thick in some places, thin in others, and a gray mist hung like ribbons above the newly planted brown fields. There was no wind at all, and the millponds were still and as smooth as glass. The trees waited expectantly, their buds eager for the April sun. Here and there on the hillsides clumps of yellow and white daffodils and narcissus proved that winter had gone, even if the air was chill and damp.

The three men road silently, their heads down, their shoulders hunched against the steady rain. At midday they stopped at a roadside tavern to wolf down bread, cheese, and bitter brown ale. They were on the road again within the hour, and traveled in the steadily worsening rain until several hours after dark. Finally they broke their journey at a small inn that seemed clean but undistinguished, and therefore unlikely to attract anyone who might recognize Lord Burke.

Niall was pleased to find that the stable was dry, the stalls filled with fresh, clean straw, the stableman knowledgeable. He tsk-tsked disapprovingly as Lord Burke led in the three tired horses. “I hopes
your business justifies riding these beauties in this weather,” he scolded, and Niall hid a smile.

“And when,” he answered, “have the Irish ever been known to abuse good horseflesh? Have them ready to go at dawn, man!” He flipped the openmouthed stableman a silver coin and strode away, grinning to himself. The animals would be well cared for after their long day.

Robbie and de Marisco were waiting for him in the taproom. The men revived a bit with hot mulled wine. “The horses will be ready to go at dawn. What’s for dinner?”

“Meat pies,” said Robbie.

“Filling,” answered Niall, and de Marisco grunted his agreement.

They ate with very little conversation, shoving pieces of the hot, flaky pies into their mouths, washing it down with the mulled wine, finishing off the meal with a wedge of cheddar and some crisp apples. The innkeeper then showed them to a dormitory-style room beneath the eaves, where the three men fell asleep instantly upon husk mattresses.

The innkeeper woke them shortly before dawn. “Today ain’t no better than yesterday, gentlemen. I got a hot breakfast waiting for you in the taproom.”

They splashed cold water into their eyes, pulled on their boots, and found the taproom. They discovered their appetites again as the innkeeper’s pretty, buxom daughter ladled hot oat porridge into the wooden trenchers, covering it with stewed apples. She cut them chunks of steaming wheat bread and smeared it liberally with butter and honey, plunking it all down before them. The girl drew them tankards of brown ale. As she placed the foaming mugs upon the table Adam de Marisco slid a bold arm about her waist.

“And where were you when we rode in cold and hungry last night, my pigeon?” he leered at her.

“Safe in me maiden’s bed, and away from the likes of you, my fine lord,” retorted the girl pertly, slapping his hands away.

Niall and Robbie chuckled, but Adam persisted. “You’d send me out into the cold rain with that long cold ride ahead of me, without so much as a kiss to warm me?” His hand slid beneath her skirts.

“It would appear to me you’re already too warm, my lord!” responded the girl. “I think you needs cooling off.” And she calmly dumped the tankard of ale over de Marisco’s head and spun away from his pinching fingers.

Lord Burke and Robert Small howled and Adam, bested, joined good-naturedly in their laughter. The innkeeper hurried over with a towel, relieved to see that his daughter’s impertinence would not bring awful retribution down upon him. “Your pardon, my lord, but Joan is a headstrong girl. As my youngest, she has been spoiled terrible. Get into the kitchen, girl!”

“Don’t send her away. She’s the prettiest thing we’ve seen in days, and she’s a good girl to keep herself for her future husband,” responded Niall. Then he turned to the girl. “But sweetheart, no more ale over de Marisco. You’ll give him a helluva chill, and I haven’t time to nurse him.”

“He’s just to keep his roving hands to himself, me lord,” returned Joan, tossing her chestnut curls boldly.

“He will,” promised Niall, and Adam nodded gravely.

They finished their meal in peace. Soon, ready to go, their cloaks drawn tightly about them, their hats pulled down over their eyes, they paid the reckoning and headed for the door. Joan was sweeping the floor near the doorway and, unable to resist, de Marisco pulled the startled girl into his arms and captured her cherry-red mouth in a passionate kiss. He kissed her slowly, lingeringly, expertly parting her lips to fence with her tongue until her initial resistance became eager compliance.

Satisfied, Adam let her go gently, steadying the swaying girl as he dropped a gold coin down her bodice. “Don’t settle for any less than
that
, my pigeon. You’ll be a long time married,” he told the starry-eyed young girl. Then he was gone.

The day was as unpleasantly cold as the previous one had been, and when they finally stopped for the night they were chilled to the bone, exhausted, and still forty miles from London. The inn was noisy and crowded. The food and the service were poor.

“I’m for going on tonight,” said Niall. “We can rent fresh horses here, and exchange them for ours another time. I’d rather spend a few more wet hours on the road and then sleep in a clean bed, free of the fear of being robbed.”

His two companions nodded and Robbie noted, “You’re apt to be recognized here, Niall. We’re too close to London to suit me.” So after supper they rode on through the rainy, windswept night, finally arriving at Greenwood at two o’clock in the morning. Niall had thought it best not to stay at Lynmouth House, for fear of drawing notice. The startled gatekeeper let them in, recognizing Robbie.

Niall cautioned the old man that he was not to speak to anyone of their arrival. If asked, he was to deny that they had been
there. The lady Skye’s life depended upon it. The gatekeeper looked to Robbie for confirmation. He nodded solemnly.

The sleepy house servants were confused, but as easily reassured by Robert Small. The maidservants scurried about preparing three bedchambers and laying fires. Three tall oak tubs were set up by the fire in the kitchen and the three men soaked the chill from their bones. The motherly housekeeper prepared a hot mulled wine punch and served sliced ham on warm bread. Clean, dry, wrapped in dressing gowns that had belonged to the late Lord Southwood, the three sat at the table eating, drinking, and talking.

When their beds were ready they went quickly to their bedrooms.

Niall was grateful that the sheets had been warmed, but as he lay there, strangely wakeful, he knew it was a different warmth he needed. His body ached for a woman. No, not a woman. Skye. Since she had left the previous autumn he had remained totally faithful. Caught up in the business of running her estates, caring for her children, and trying to free her, he hadn’t had time to serve his own needs.

In the morning he and Robbie and de Marisco would force the issue with Cecil and the Queen. Niall wanted his wife and child back! The child! Was it the boy that his father and he had wanted for so long? He’d know in a few hours. Niall sighed deeply and suddenly he was asleep.

The sun was up when he awoke and immediately yanked the bellpull. Shortly a little maid appeared with hot water for washing. “Are Sir Robert and Lord de Marisco awake yet?” he asked.

“Just, m’lord,” she bobbed a curtsey. “Your bells rang within minutes of each other.”

“Have the clothes I brought in my saddlebags been freshened?”

“Aye, m’lord. I’ll bring them right up.”

He washed and then dressed carefully. His clothes, selected shrewdly for this occasion, were rich, but subdued. His shirt was the purest white silk, his doublet of deep-blue velvet, embroidered discreetly in silver. His hose were striped silver and blue. And he wore a heavy silver chain with a silver and sapphire pendant. Smooth-shaven, his jaw showed a strong determination that William Cecil would find hard to miss.

Niall broke his fast in his room with fresh bread, cheese, and ale. He then joined de Marisco and Robbie. Walking to the bottom of the garden, they hailed a waterman for the trip down the river to
Greenwich Palace, where the Queen was currently in residence. Niall kept his cloak wrapped well about him, obscuring his features. The rain had stopped, but the day remained gray and threatening.

They arrived at Greenwich and, disembarking, hurried into the palace. Luck was with them: Cecil had not yet arrived in his closet, and on duty was only one young secretary who failed to recognize any of the three. When the chancellor arrived in his long, furred black velvet robe, he was immediately surrounded by the three men and borne off to his private rooms.

Unafraid, Lord Burghley settled himself comfortably at his desk and said to the anxious secretary, “I am not to be disturbed, Master Morgan.” The secretary bowed out, and Cecil turned to his three visitors. He eyed them dispassionately, then spoke. “My lord Burke, I distinctly remember forbidding you London.”

“I’ve come to bring my wife and child home, m’lord. You have had Lady Burke here almost six months and I’ve not yet been informed of the charges against her.”

“She is under suspicion, my lord.”

“For six months? And of what?”

“Piracy,” was the cool reply.

“What! You’re mad, man!”

“Niall, Niall!” Robbie spoke. “Cecil, my friend, be reasonable. Lady Burke is a beautiful woman who, I’ve no doubt, has stolen many hearts. But ships? I think not. Proof?”

Cecil frowned and Robbie almost shouted with glee. They still had no proof! “I will be frank with you, Cecil. I thought piracy was your suspicion, because of the O’Malley ships. Poor Niall refuses to see the logic of it.”

“And you do?” said Cecil.

“Indeed I do. The O’Malley of Innisfana has access to ships and a knowledge of shipping lanes and schedules. Add to that her isolated coastal castle, and you have all the ingredients for piracy—except, of course, one important one.”

“What is missing, Sir Robert?” Cecil was fascinated.

“Motive, my lord,” said Robbie. “Where is Lady Burke’s motive? She is already one of the wealthiest women in England, possibly the wealthiest, and she is not greedy for more riches. Everyone knows her to be generous and charitable. She is not a seeker of thrills. So why would she risk her son’s inheritance and her own position, by breaking the Queen’s law? Above all things, my dear Cecil, Skye is a good mother.

“No … there are no grounds for your suspicions, nor justification for holding her. None besides Bess Tudor’s jealous spite, and you know it, Cecil.”

Cecil looked both annoyed and uncomfortable. “The piracies ceased with Lady Burke’s arrest,” he said.

Niall’s look was as black as a storm cloud, but Robert Small put a steadying hand on him. “The piracies stopped over a year ago, more than six months before you arrested Lady Burke.”

“The
Santa Maria Madre de Cristos
was taken off Ireland late last spring!”

“But not by Lady Burke,” replied Robbie, “for she was but newly married and on her honeymoon. The Spaniard was taken by Barbary pirates, and we have the proof. Cecil, this giant who’s accompanied Lord Burke and me is Adam de Marisco, the lord of Lundy Island.” Cecil began to look interested. “Well over a month ago de Marisco found a ghost ship floating off his island. Naturally he claimed it for salvage.”

“Oh, naturally,” murmured Cecil.

Robbie ignored the sarcasm and continued with his story. “When de Marisco opened the hold of the ship and saw the treasure within, he realized the implications at once. He went immediately to Lord Burke, and Niall sent for me. The ship’s log is in Arabic, of which I have some small knowledge. There is an entry made early last summer that coincides with the date of the piracy of the
Santa Maria
. The entry reads: ‘Took a cursed Spaniard today.’ This was obviously the ship that captured the
Santa Maria
’s cargo. It was on its way to the New World to go a-pirating, which it did. There are entries disclosing a transfer of cargo between the Moor’s ship, which is called the
Gazelle
, and another Barbary ship.

“The bulk of King Philip’s goods were being sold in the markets of Algiers before word even reached London that the treasure was gone. We found only some of King Philip’s treasure cargo aboard the
Gazelle
, as well as cargo from other ships. These were among the stores. I am sure the manifest that the Spanish ambassador gave you lists these items.” He pulled a velvet bag from his doublet and, opening it, poured a stream of unset green emeralds upon Cecil’s desk.