The Highwayman (34 page)

“I trust you lost no time in correcting that impression. Your virtue remained intact throughout that happy interval. I have the scars to prove it.”

“Selby died alone in the Netherlands.” Alex paused. “I feel so guilty.”

“Why? You didn’t kill him, Alexandra, and his death frees us to be together.”

“I imagine that’s why I feel guilty,” Alex said, sighing.

“Will you have much to do for his estate?”

“No, his son is a solicitor. I’m sure he’ll do what is necessary. I just want to get to Hampden Manor, collect the baby, and then head for Ireland.”

“You have no desire to stay here?”

“I have no wish to test the queen’s patience with either one of us by remaining in England. She is wont to change her mind, and I will not give her an occasion to do so.”

Burke stirred and kissed her hair. “She’s an impressive old lady, and clearly feels an affectionate bond with you,” he said. “I think that’s what saved my rebel hide.”

“That, and your handsome face.” Alex sighed and snuggled closer to him. “The stories about her are famous. They say when she was young there was no one to touch her.”

“There’s few who could touch her now.”

“I thought you hated her.”

“I hated what her overlords did to my country, but I have to admit that she cuts quite a figure. Her body may be aged and frail, but her mind is as keen as a Saracen blade.”

Alex looked up at him and wiped a smudge of dust from his cheek with her sleeve. “Both of us are filthy from the road,” she said.

“One of us is filthy from Ludgate.” He fingered the stubble on his face, and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll go and get some water from that tart downstairs. We can heat it over the fire.”

“Do you suppose she’ll have soap, or a length of flannel?” Alex asked.

“I’ll try.”

Alex undressed while he was gone and was sitting on the chair, wearing nothing but her chemise, when he returned. Burke took one look at her bare arms, the soft curve of her breasts discernible through the thin material covering them, and put aside the basin and ewer he was holding.

“The bath will do for later,” he said softly. “Me first.”

He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He took her remaining garments off in seconds and looked at her naked body, drinking in the sight.

“I thought never to have you again,” he said huskily.

Alex put her arms around his neck and drew him down to her. “You were mistaken.”

He lowered his body over hers and groaned when he felt her yielding flesh beneath his.

“There’s something I think you’d best do first,” Alex whispered in his ear.

“What’s that?” he asked as he devoured her neck with little nibbles.
 

“Take off your pants.”
 

And so he did.

Epilogue

All’s Well That Ends Well

—William Shakespeare

Dublin, Ireland, Autumn, 1600

“Rory, leave that alone!”
Alex said, slapping his hand.

Rory dropped the apple he was stealing and said, “Alex, you are turning into a right frightful nag.”

“Better that than have you eat up all my preparations before my guest arrives.”

“Aye, everything must be grand for your English visitor,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“This English visitor was a God-sent friend to me, and if you don’t treat her with respect and courtesy, I’ll know the reason why.”

Rory feigned terror and dropped to the floor, where little Michael was clinging tightly to a table leg, rocking unsteadily as he attempted to walk.

“Isn’t he too young to be doing that?” Rory asked as the baby took a shaky step and then grabbed Rory’s arm.

“Tell him about it,” Alex said, shrugging. “If I confine him for fear that he may fall, he just screams until I turn him loose and let him tumble around again. That’s why the floor is ankle deep in straw, my lad.”

“Just like his da,” Rory said with a grin.

“Heaven help me,” Alex muttered, dropping her knife and scooping the apple peelings into a basket. “One is more than enough for me to handle.”

“Where is Burke anyway?” Rory asked.

“Finishing a job with Aidan,” she replied.

Burke and his brother were working as wheelwrights and stable hands in the city, repairing carriages and shoeing horses, saving money to buy land in their home district near Inverary. Rory, too, did what he could. Alex’s inheritance from Selby would likely have been enough to get them started, but Alex had not wanted to take it and had only agreed when John Selby said he would give her portion to charity. Both of the Selby children seemed eager to be rid of her at such small cost to the estate, and she did not blame them.

“Are you sure your friend can find this place?” Rory asked, offering Michael an apple peeling. The child looked it over studiously and then went back to his wobbly gait, taking two steps and sitting down hard on the cushioned floor.

“I gave her directions in my last letter,” Alex replied. She and Burke were renting the second floor rooms above an apothecary shop in Dublin’s Greene Street, not far from the docks. Rory and Aidan were staying in a boarding house a few doors away.

“When is her boat coming?” Rory asked.

“It’s due this week, but who knows? Bad weather...”

“Or pirates, or sea monsters, maybe dragons,” Rory concluded, making a gorgon face at the baby, who chortled delightedly as he tried to stand again.

“Rory, can’t you make yourself useful?” Alex asked as the baby stood, waving his arms wildly for balance.

“What would you have me do, Your Ladyship?”

“You can bring in some wood from the back, for a start,” Alex said. “I have some baking to do.”

“Dishes fit for English royalty?”

Alex gave him a look.

“Settle yourself, I’m going.” Rory slipped out the door. Alex heard him rattling around in the woodpile as she put the finishing touches on her tart. It was not exactly the fancy recipe she’d learned in England—several of the more exotic ingredients were missing—but she had already tried it out on Burke, and it had met with an enthusiastic reception.

She was setting aside the confection when Burke came through the door, whistling.

“Where’s my boy?” he called, and Michael held out his arms, shrieking joyfully.

Burke dropped his pack of tools by the fireplace and scooped up the baby, kissing Alex on the back of her neck as he passed.

“Walking yet?” he said to Michael, who pumped his legs hard, giggling.

“Trying,” Alex said. “Don’t get him all excited, Kevin, I’ve been trying to put him down for a nap all afternoon.”

Burke set the baby on the floor and bent over Alex’s table. “What’s for dinner?” he asked.

“Not that. I made it for Mary Howard’s visit.”

“Aye. Lady Mary on the Dublin docks, this I must see.”

“Be nice. It’s very sweet of her to come.”

“I hope she’s taking care of my Dealanach. He got used to the good life at Hampden.”

“Don’t joke about it. I’m worried that she won’t make it here, many things can happen on the way.”

“She’s traveling with her husband, she’ll be fine. She’s as tough as you are underneath, I’m thinking.” Burke took a spoon from the table and handed it to Michael, who proceeded to bang it on his foot.

“I hope so.”

Rory came in with a bundle of wood and deposited it on the hearth. “I’m off to the pub,” he said, winking at his cousin as he passed.

“Be back in an hour if you want to eat,” Alex called after him. She waited until the door closed and then said to Burke, “What ails him? He’s always at that pub. Is he turning into a drunk?”

Burke grinned. “Alexandra, you are sorely lacking in imagination. He’s got a girl there.”

The spoon went flying across the room and landed under a chair with a clang.

“Good shot,” Burke said admiringly, fetching it.

“What, a barmaid?” Alex asked.

Burke shook his head. “She lives in back.”

“Not that little waif with the dun-colored hair!”

“The same.”

“Kevin, she’s a child.”

“She’s sixteen. You were seventeen when I met you. You’ve a short memory.”

“Wonderful.” Alex reached for a potato and began slicing it. “Will Aidan be eating with us?” she asked.

Burke shook his head. “He got a job, exercising the lord mayor’s horses a couple of hours in the afternoon, twice a week. The money is good, but he doesn’t like the old boy much. More English than the English, you know.”

“Please tell Aidan to hold his tongue. We don’t need any more trouble.”

“He’ll behave, you have my word on it.” Burke seized her around the waist from behind and murmured into her ear, “Did you say something about Michael taking a nap?”

“Does he look tired to you?”

They both glanced at the baby, who beamed up at them, drumming his heels on the floor.

“Let’s put him in the cradle with some toys. Maybe he’ll play for a while,” Burke suggested.

Once the baby was settled in the crib at the foot of their bed he gurgled for a while and then fell silent. Alex peeked over the rail and saw that he was asleep, his thumb in his mouth.

She smiled at Burke, who began to unlace her bodice. As he removed her articles of clothing he tossed them on the floor.

“When will you learn to be neat?” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss the side of his neck.

“When I no longer desire you, which will be never,” he replied, lifting her onto the bed.

He kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth, and she responded, turning her head when he moved his lips to her throat. He undressed her rapidly, his fingers nimble with practice. When they were both naked, he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him, running his hands up and down her satiny arms, burying his mouth in her flesh. Alex clutched him, closing her eyes and kissing his hair.

“Now,” he said, and lifted her onto him.

Alex gasped as he entered her, his breath hot against her skin. He looked up at her, his eyes slitted, hers opening slowly. Then he pulled her tighter against him.

“Come with me,” he said, and she did.

Alex wondered if such happiness could possibly last, then decided firmly that she would do her best to make sure it did.

Afterward Burke’s hand claimed her breast casually, and she winced.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up. “I saw that before, when I touched you there. Do you have a pain?”

“I think I am with child again.”

He smiled. “Are you certain?”

“I felt the same with Michael.”

He bent and embraced her. “A girl this time.”

“Who can say? If it is a girl, I want to name her Elizabeth.”

Burke groaned and collapsed next to her.

“We owe her our lives,” she reminded him.

“I’ll be tarred and feathered and run out of the bloody country.”

“Then we’ll call her the Gaelic equivalent. There must be something.”

“Ealasaid.”

“Good. I like it.”

“That won’t fool anybody. They’ll know what it means.”

“Mary for her middle name, I think. Mairi, right? And there’s something else.”

He covered his head, as if to protect it from a blow. “What, may I ask?”

“I want to get married.”

“We are married.”

“I do not consider Hugh O’Neill reciting a lot of babble over us and cutting a loaf of bread in half a marriage.”

“That was fine and noble ancient Gaelic, and it’s not my fault you couldn’t understand it.”

“And what was that ceremony with the salt?”

“Good luck.”

“And the wine?”

“A toast, for our health and fertility, like the fruit of the vine.” He leaned over to kiss her belly. “It seems to be working.”

“Kevin, I’m serious.”

He rolled onto his back. “And what sort of a marriage would Her Ladyship like?”

“No more pagan rites, thank you. I want a legal marriage, one registered with the chancery, and I want a church ceremony to go along with it. We can do it when Mary comes. She and her husband will be the witnesses.”

“Whatever you say, Alex. If it’s that important to you, I’ll go along with it.”

“Don’t you understand why it’s important to me?”

He looked at her, his eyes wide and blue.

“I believe in God, and I want him to bless our union,” she said.

“Still an English schoolgirl,” he said affectionately, brushing a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes.

“I believe in God because he brought me to you and brought us through all of our troubles so that we could be together,” she said, caressing his cheek.