The Hawk and the Dove (14 page)

He looked at her with something akin to awe. “You know a lot about men, don’t you, Sabre?”

“I’d better, if I intend to tangle with
that
one, don’t you think?”

One piece of music ended, and Sir John Heneage, who had just partnered Philadelphia Carey, asked Sabre to dance before the music began again.

Hawk slapped Matthew on the shoulder. “Did you manage to turn a fine profit on the run to Calais?”

Matt nodded and thanked him.

Hawk shook his head. “I may need you for a run across the Irish Sea some moonless night.”

Matt’s spine tingled with the implied danger.

“Did you manage to get down to see Mother this summer?” asked Hawk, changing the subject.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I brought her up to Hawkhurst last week. The change will do her good.”

Hawk nodded. “Don’t encourage her to come up to the London house.”

“She wouldn’t intrude on you. She knows the London house is yours now.”

Hawk looked his brother in the eye to make his meaning clear. “Georgiana will always be welcome at Thames View, as well she knows. I simply don’t want her at court; it’s too corrupt.”

Matt’s eyes had never left Sabre while she danced with Heneage, and Hawk asked idly, “Have you bedded her yet?”

Matthew flushed darkly at the suggestion, revealing clearly to his brother that he would like to. “No, I haven’t bedded her,” he said loudly.

Essex overheard him and said to the two brothers, “No? Then, by God, I intend to before the week’s out.”

Hawk stood rigid, the urge toward violence pulsing through his veins like liquid fire. The muscle of his jaw jerked as he tried to relax his clenched teeth and he forced himself to show only a mild interest.

“You fancy a new mistress?”

“God’s blood, man, are you trying to get me clapped in the Tower? She’s far too beautiful to escape Bess’s eagle eye. She’d stand out in any crowd. Her tits alone are enough to earn Bess’s venom. I thought perhaps a very short, very secret affair might ease some of the lust I
feel.” And he adjusted the material more comfortably over the bulge between his legs. “I hadn’t thought of making her my mistress.”

“That’s most fortunate,” said Matt, seeing an opportunity to perhaps make his wager with Hawk, “for the lady swears she will be no man’s mistress.”

Hawk drawled, “They all protest; ’tis the fashion.”

“Aye. According to my stepfather Leicester, from the beginning Bess and her court pretended to demureness to quell scandals.”

Matt pressed on. “Nay, I believe Sabre Wilde to be a lady of virtue.” He turned to Hawk. “I’ll wager you can’t make her your mistress in a month!”

“Sabre … outrageous name,” mused Essex, “I’ll bet she’s amusing in bed.” He turned to Matthew. “I wager you I’ll do it in a week.”

Hawk ground out, “And I in a night!” Matt was forgotten as the two rivals faced each other.

Essex said, “I bet you I bed her before you do. I’ll put up my Arabian against your Neptune. Matt, you are witness to the wager.”

He strolled off in the direction of Sabre, and Hawk could not keep the murderous look from his eyes as he spoke to his brother. “You wouldn’t have enough brains to pour piss out of your boots if you picked them up by the heels!”

Matt realized he’d made a tactical error by saying anything at all in front of Essex. The thing that worried him most was what Sabre would say to him when she learned what happened. He looked on the bright side. If he didn’t tell her of the wager, Hawk and Essex weren’t likely to. For once he would try to be discreet and say nothing.

Essex presented himself to Sabre and she sank into a
deep curtsy. He raised her immediately. “Your beauty almost blinds me, Mistress Wilde. Though I long to dance with you, I dare not for fear of bringing the queen’s wrath upon your head. I would see you away from court, though. Would you attend the play with me tomorrow afternoon at the Rose?”

She knew him for a young lecher; gossip was he had gotten one of the queen’s ladies with child. She almost refused him, but Hawkhurst advanced toward her possessively and she found herself saying, “It would be my pleasure, my Lord Essex.”

His eyes were on the jeweled wildcat between her breasts. “You like unusual jewels, Mistress Wilde. I shall have to gift you with one.”

She flashed her green eyes at Hawkhurst before she smiled at Essex. “Ah, sir, I could never accept jewels from a gentleman. This I had from my grandmother”— and her lashes swept down to her cheeks to hide her triumph at Hawkhurst’s frustration.

“Will you dance with me, Sabre?” asked Hawk, his voice caressing her name.

“You are a bold man indeed to risk the queen’s wrath,” she said vainly.

“If Bess wants to behead you, I’ll go down on my knees to get her to spare you,” he teased.

As Essex watched Hawk lead her off to the dance, he murmured to himself, “God’s cock, I’ll go on my knees for you, or better yet have you go down on your knees for me.” The wicked pictures he conjured kept him randy until he was once again beside Bess. She glanced coquettishly up at him and beckoned him with a long white hand. He sighed and felt his rigid state soften and diminish.

It was an ironclad rule that none must leave before the queen, but there was such a crush of people it would have been impossible to keep track of everyone. Hawk danced only as far as the first exit, then guided Sabre with a firm hand at the small of her back through two archways and into a dark, secluded withdrawing chamber. His finger traced the outline of the diamond wildcat. “Your grandmother has expensive taste,” he whispered.

“How dared you enter my chamber while I slept?” she demanded.

“I dare anything,” he said low, proving the point by letting his finger move upward to trace the swell of her breast. Sabre knew he was going to kiss her, but instead of drawing away she lifted her face to his. He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her with long, slow, lingering, melting kisses. The tip of his tongue traced her lips to tease her, then insisted that she part them. The moment she did he made his first penetration of her. His tongue entered her intimately to explore her mouth, while his hands moved down her back to do their own exploring. He lifted her body to fit it tighter to his. His mouth hardened its demands with fierce, devouring kisses that sent jolts of wild sensations that reached from her lips to her very toes. His tongue teased and plunged savagely, leaving her in a fever of longing.

Trembling, she touched her own tongue to him and he immediately drew it into his mouth and caressed it with his own. He refused to let her withdraw it until he was ready. Then his lips traced kisses across her cheek until his mouth found the tiny beauty spot. He worshiped it with his tongue, then moved down her throat, leaving a trail of heat where his lips had traveled. His hands came up to cup her breasts, and as they swelled from the bodice
of the low-cut gown, his mouth sought the sensitive pink nipples as he first licked, then kissed, and finally sucked them hard.

Wild desire swept through her as his mouth on her breasts evoked tingling, throbbing sensations between her legs, and she would have given her soul in that moment to have him naked beneath her hands so she could lick his muscular back where the dragon rampaged.

“Will you come and see my house, Thames View?” he asked.

She gazed up at him. “I swore I wouldn’t dance with you. I promised myself I would never be alone with you … and I’ve just done both,” she said breathlessly. “If I did consider visiting Thames View, would you give me your word that I would be safe, that I could trust you?”

“No, Sabre, never be foolish enough to trust me.” His mouth crushed down upon hers and she felt the violence in him. It excited her. She knew him for a dangerous but worthy adversary. She felt reckless enough to play the game with him, knowing it would be no easy victory to vanquish such strength and wit and cunning. She would use guile and the subtle seductive arts of womanliness. If she lost she would be totally devastated, but if she won she knew it would be rapture akin to ecstasy.

“I’ll come, m’lord,” she murmured huskily. Then she shivered with excitement. “One day soon.”

Shane Hawkhurst cursed himself for a fool. His life did not need complications, the damned thing was convoluted enough as it was. He sighed, and determined to handle one complication at a time if he was to create any sort of order from the chaos.

He made very gentle love to Larksong that night, then
drew her into the curve of his arm to ease the way to cutting the knot that had secured her to him. Over the summer months he had pondered long and hard on what course to take. The sheer sorcery of Sabre Wilde had worked its magic in his blood, and he knew she would soon become the most important woman in his life. He knew full well she was too much woman to put up with another female in the shadows, and he had to find an honorable way of ending his present liaison. Larksong had been a gift from the dey of Algiers as a token of thanks for opening up the trading vessels of the Hawkhurst empire, and Shane had accepted her knowing that if he did not she was destined for the premier brothel of Algiers, the Garden of Bliss. Many men had offered him fortunes for her, and though in his time he had bought many a woman, he could not quite bring himself to sell one. He had toyed with the idea of gifting the queen with her, but his suspicion that she would be looked upon as an oddity like the queen’s dwarf gave him pause for thought, and in the end he had done nothing.

“Larksong, do you ever long for your home?” he asked softly.

She remained silent for long minutes. She had known before him that she was a responsibility which would grow into a burden. She had only allowed herself to hope that when he tired of her, he would pass her on to a kind master.

“I try not to dream of the impossible,” she murmured.

“If you came from China, I, too, would say it was impossible. But you told me your mother was brought out of the Orient by your father, who is a Turk. You spoke of a very beautiful city on the shores of a great sea.”

Larksong nodded her head. “Byzantium, the center of the universe, where the continents come together.”

“Where Asia and Europe join is the great shining city of Constantinople.”

“Yes, yes!” She nodded with excitement.

“My sweet Larksong, have you the courage to sail to Constantinople and seek your home?”

Her cheeks were wet. He would not dishonor her by passing her on to another man.

“Baron,” he called sharply, swinging his powerful legs to the carpet and swiftly donning breeches and thigh boots. The baron appeared at the chamber door. “We have to contact Grace O’Malley. I want safe passage for Larksong to Constantinople.”

Lord Essex escorted his two sisters, Dorothy Devereux and Penelope Rich, to the Rose Theater along with Sabre. She wished the play could have gone on forever, so much did she enjoy it. The party had all gathered at Essex House along the Strand, where Robin introduced Sabre to his sisters. Six different wines were offered from sack to alicante, and Sabre wisely took hers with rosewater. She realized it would be incautious to become flown with wine so early in the afternoon.

Before leaving Essex House they all donned masks to conceal their identities. They were cleverly fashioned in the guise of animals and decorated with fur, feathers, and sequins. Dorothy chose a cat’s mask, while Penelope selected a colorful butterfly. Robin picked out two matching ones for himself and Sabre. “A fox and his vixen,” he said with teasing eyes, “since we are both redheads.”

Sabre struck up an immediate friendship with Penelope Rich. She was a beautiful girl with golden hair and a
voluptuous figure, but it was her quick tongue and easy wit that captured Sabre. She had made a wealthy marriage but was resigned to the fact that it could never be a happy union, for her real love was her brother’s friend, Charles Blount. They had been having an affair for years, but at the moment he was commanding a thousand horse in Holland. She begged Essex for news of him, but he told her little to alleviate her apprehension for her lover. She knew the Dutch were fighting a bloody war against Spain and there were as many battles lost as won.

Sabre learned that the queen would not accept Robin’s sisters at court.

“’Tis not us she hates,” Penelope explained to Sabre. “’Tis our mother, Lettice. She will never, ever forgive her for marrying Leicester. They are cousins, you know, mother and Bess. Bess got the throne and Lettice got the beauty and the queen’s surrogate husband. A fair division, to my way of thinking.” She winked at Sabre.

Sabre knew she had a strong ally against the queen and could speak freely in her company. “Perhaps that is why she has made m’lord Essex her favorite. If Lettice stole the most important man in the queen’s affections, then to pay her back Bess will try to steal the most important man in Lettice’s affections.”

“’Od’s blood, I think you’ve got something there,” agreed Penelope, then she lowered her voice. “For the life of me I cannot see what my mother saw in Dudley. He was ever an insatiable lecher who offered any woman of the court three hundred pounds to lie with him. I declare his greatest attraction was that the queen considered him her own property. My mother only married him to spite her.”

Essex joined them. “She married him for wealth and power. Love certainly had nothing to do with it.”

Sabre and Penelope enjoyed their afternoon together so much they decided to go again the following week, and in the meantime they agreed that a trip to the fortune-teller’s one evening would be fun.

Penelope had her own luxurious coach and horses and offered to drop off Dorothy. This left Sabre to ride in Essex’s coach. They wore their masks still on their ride through London, but Sabre thought it an affectation, since the earl’s device was emblazoned on the doors of the coach, and its drivers and attendant footmen were so sumptuously uniformed that none could mistake its occupant.

When Robin told the driver to take them to Essex House, Sabre protested. “M’lord, ’tis impossible. I’ve been gone most of the day. Lady Ashford will be sorely in need of me.”

“But, sweet, I’m sorely in need of you.” He took Sabre’s hand and placed it on his swollen member. She was so angry, she trembled. She removed her mask and looked him directly in the eye. “M’lord Essex, if you are in need of a whore, I suggest you stop the coach and pick one up from a street corner, but pray do not insult me.”