Taken by You (33 page)

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Authors: Connie Mason

BOOK: Taken by You
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Morgan’s expression softened as he eased down beside Luca, careful not to touch her. If he did he’d spend the rest of the morning in bed with her. “I’ve had abundant time to think during the past months and have come to the conclusion that you aren’t capable of those things del Fugo accused you of. I absolved you long ago of any wrongdoing in Havana.

“As for your behavior last night with Lord Harley, I blame that bounder for assuming you were fair game. The only thing you were guilty of was trusting unwisely. Don’t let it happen again, Luca. You are my wife, and I guard what is mine. So don’t get any ideas about testing your feminine wiles on Elizabeth’s smooth-talking courtiers.”

Luca’s eyes widened, stunned by Morgan’s words. “If you feel that way, why are you paying court to Lady Jane?”

Morgan searched Luca’s face, contemplating her question. She deserved an answer, but he could think of nothing that would ease the truth. She already knew how he felt about the Spanish blood flowing through her veins.

“Queen Bess was furious with me for marrying against her wishes and is pressing for an annulment on grounds that our marriage was forced. Lady Jane is to be my reward. She offered Lady Jane’s hand as a reward for my obedience. Lady Jane is wealthy and titled and eager to become my wife.”

Luca swallowed past the lump in her throat. “’Tis common knowledge. West Sussex isn’t so far from London that gossip doesn’t reach Scott Hall. If it’s the queen’s wish that our marriage be dissolved, why haven’t you done so?”

Morgan’s eyes darkened with an emotion Luca didn’t recognize. “Why, indeed?”

Their gazes collided and clung, reluctant to part as Morgan’s eyes made love to her. Luca shuddered. The intensity of his glittering gaze made her breasts ache and flesh tingle. She felt as if he had stroked her intimately without actually touching her. After the space of a dozen heartbeats, Morgan cursed and looked away.

“Bloody Hell, Luca, how can I let you go when I still want you?”

He stood abruptly, as if startled by the admission.

“Servants will arrive soon with your bath. When the dressmaker arrives she will help you choose something appropriate for your audience with the queen. I’ll return for you promptly at three o’clock.”

Before Luca could catch her breath, Morgan was gone. He may have been confused about his feelings for her, but she knew exactly what she felt for her exasperating husband. Little good it did her to love him, when he continued to deny what was in his heart. And if there should be a babe, she shuddered to think how the poor child would suffer with a father who would despise him for his Spanish blood. Although her morose thoughts scattered when servants arrived with her bath, she couldn’t help but note fleetingly that her first day at court had been anything but auspicious.

Morgan eyed Luca critically and nodded with satisfaction. Wearing a yellow brocade gown embellished with yards of lace and a high ruff collar, she outshined every court lady he knew. Morgan hoped she wouldn’t outshine the queen, for Bess took pride in being the center of attention amid the bevy of beauties orbiting around her. No one dared shine brighter than Bess if they hoped to gain her good graces.

“You look lovely, Luca,” Morgan said, meaning it. “Come along, the queen is waiting.”

The corridors still confused Luca, but Morgan seemed to know where he was going as he conveyed her through the maze of hallways. Surprised when she found the Presence Chamber empty, Luca looked askance at Morgan.

“Bess is waiting in her Privy Chamber. She preferred to meet privately with you.”

A footman announced them, and Luca felt her knees go weak as she entered the chamber on Morgan’s arm. His strength lent her courage, for she discovered that they were not really alone. The room was crowded with spectators, most of them ladies-in-waiting and courtiers.
Is this what private means to the queen?
she wondered. Then her thoughts scattered when a path cleared and she saw the queen sitting on an ornate carved chair at one end of the Privy Chamber.

The queen was a small woman, Luca noted, but her stature was enhanced by her regal bearing. Her red wig was fashioned in an elaborate headdress, and her starched ruff emphasized her striking white skin. Nothing about the queen was ordinary. Luca saw immediately that Elizabeth was born for the role of sovereign and played it to the hilt.

“Your Majesty,” Morgan said, executing a deep bow. Luca immediately dropped into a graceful curtsy.

Elizabeth bade them rise and offered her hand to Morgan. He clasped it and brought it to his lips, then introduced Luca. Elizabeth stared disconcertingly at Luca, immediately aware of Morgan’s reason for steadfastly resisting her effort to dissolve his marriage. She thought the Spanish woman a rare beauty, but that knowledge failed to influence her thinking where Morgan’s marriage was concerned. Sir Morgan Scott deserved an Englishwoman for a wife, not a Spaniard who brought nothing to the marriage.

“We did not summon your wife to court,” Elizabeth said coolly. “We are not pleased, Sir Morgan. You know our wishes in this matter. It has been brought to our attention that your wife made threats against one of our ladies-in-waiting.”

Luca wanted to sink into the carpet. The queen was daunting, and when she saw Lady Jane glaring at her, Luca knew the woman had taken her threat seriously. Without volition, Luca’s chin climbed higher. She refused to be cowed by this ruthless monarch who had ordered the death of her own cousin Mary.

Morgan groaned beneath his breath. Damn Lady Jane for running to the queen with her tales. Couldn’t they see that Luca’s threat had been pure bravado?

“You must forgive my wife, Your Majesty. She is a stranger in England and new to our ways. She meant no harm.”

Elizabeth directed her haughty gaze at Luca.

“What say you, Lady Scott? Did your threat to commit murder have no teeth?”

Garnering her wits, Luca stared the queen in the eye and said, “I meant every word. Your Majesty. I will cut Lady Jane’s heart out and feed it to the pigs if she does not leave my husband alone.”

A collected gasp arose from those standing close enough to hear. None louder than Morgan’s. Thus he missed the brief spark of admiration visible in Elizabeth’s eyes.

“We have seen and heard enough from your Spanish bride, Sir Morgan,” Elizabeth said dismissively. “We will remind you that your marriage does not please us. We had someone else in mind for you.”

“I know, Your Majesty, and I will consider your wishes most diligently.” He bowed and backed from the chamber, dragging Luca with him.

The moment they were out of earshot, he swung Luca around and glared at her. “Did you have to repeat that ridiculous threat to Elizabeth? Bloody Hell, Luca, what am I going to do with you? I don’t know why I don’t send you packing and marry Jane like the queen wants.”

“Don’t you?” Luca asked provocatively. “Think about it, Morgan.”

Bloody Hell, he had already thought about it!

Chapter 17

D
uring the following weeks Luca met secretly with the Jesuits, who were still at court waiting for the Spanish Armada to hove into English waters. They moved about court like somber specters, tolerated by the queen in an effort to maintain peace between England and the powerful Catholic countries to the south. A wary eye was being kept on the Duke of Parma in the Spanish Netherlands, who was reported to be gathering troops in Spain’s defense on the Flemish coast.

April arrived, bringing no changes for Luca at Elizabeth’s hostile court. She still was regarded with suspicion. Morgan was deeply involved in preparations for the coming sea battle and during May traveled frequently to Plymouth to confer with Sir Francis Drake on the queen’s behalf. Elizabeth seemed to be dragging her feet in preparing for a Spanish invasion. Had she forced matters by ordering her fleet to sea to destroy the armada before it left Lisbon, the battle would have ended before it began.

During Morgan’s long absences in the month of May, Luca was drawn deeper into the Jesuits’ confidence. Because they were the only people at court who valued her company, she felt comfortable with them. Having grown up in a convent, it seemed only natural for her to seek the company of priests.

To Luca’s chagrin, Morgan continued to treat her with cool disdain when he was around long enough to take notice of her at all. Though she didn’t want to believe Morgan was bedding Lady Jane, she couldn’t be sure. She took nothing for granted where Morgan was concerned. If he was available, he escorted her to the buffet table at night, but more often than not she chose to have her meals brought to her. When she tried making friends with some of the court ladies, her efforts were promptly rebuffed. Only the men offered a semblance of friendship, and she knew where that would lead. Sometimes sheer boredom drove her from the chamber, and once she dared to venture out on the London streets. Morgan scolded her soundly for her reckless escapade. She wouldn’t remain at court or even in England if there was a safe way for her to travel to Spain alone.

Any closeness she and Morgan may have shared at one time became nearly nonexistent now that Morgan was more deeply enmeshed in political intrigue. He rarely slept in their chamber, and when he did, he arrived so late and was so exhausted that he fell asleep immediately.

Luca worried about him excessively. She knew he intended to sail with the English fleet when they engaged the armada, and she feared he might lose his life in the battle. Yet he refused to talk about it, as if revealing England’s plans to a Spanish woman would somehow betray his country. The reason for Morgan’s remoteness was not difficult for Luca to understand. He still desired her, but it was obvious that his fear that she would conceive his child sufficiently chilled his ardor.

The month of June brought tensions at court to a breaking point. Rumors abounded. It was whispered that the armada had already sailed. Some said the ships carried nearly a hundred thousand troops equipped to invade England. Only Luca knew that the Jesuits had spread most of these rumors. Then, one sunny day in June, Morgan made a rare appearance in their chamber in the middle of the afternoon. Luca was more than a little startled when he stormed into the room in a state of great agitation.

“Morgan, what is it? Has the Spanish Armada been sighted?”

“Mayhap you know that better than I.”

Luca drew back as if she’d just been slapped. “What are you saying?”

“Have you been consorting with spies behind my back?”

Luca drew herself up indignantly. “Certainly not!”

“It’s been brought to my attention that you are spending a great deal of time with those Spanish priests who were sent here to spy for King Philip. If not for Elizabeth’s good graces they would never have been allowed into our country.” His eyes narrowed accusingly. “Have you turned spy, Luca?”

“I’ve done no such thing! Is it so unusual that I’d prefer the company of my own kind? These cold-blooded Englishmen hate me. At least the priests will talk to me, unlike you, who seem to have forgotten I exist. I’ve tried my best to stay away from the queen and her cohorts, since they seem to dislike me so.”

Morgan scowled but said nothing. Unbeknownst to Luca, he had defended her time and again to Elizabeth, who continued to object strongly to one of her favorite courtiers being married to a Spaniard. Lady Jane had been quick to add her own disapproval to that of the queen. Jane tenaciously clung to the hope that she would soon be the wife of a national hero.

The past months had been as difficult for Morgan as they had been for Luca. Morgan would have liked to have pleased Elizabeth in regards to his marriage, but his emotions could not be forced. His heart was divided between duty to his queen and his increasingly tender feelings for his wife. His mind knew that Luca’s Spanish blood would al ways be a barrier between them, but his heart told him it was time to forget the past and put the memory of his family to rest. Anger had a way of twisting and hardening a man’s heart, and he’d carried the burden far too long. Revenge was a possessive mistress.

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