All the Sweet Tomorrows (84 page)

Adam found her weeping piteously on their bed, and quietly gathered Skye into his arms. She sobbed for some minutes as he gently rocked her back and forth, and then gradually her sobs
began to fade away. “It will be dull without them, I know,” he said soothingly.

“I like dull,” she said. “I have had enough adventure to last me three lifetimes, Adam! Why, when it is finally as I want it, does it have to change?”

“Because the years have flown, little girl, and they are grown, or half grown. They are their mother’s offspring, for they wish to strike out on their own, and why shouldn’t they? I know that it is hard for a mother to admit that her sons are grown, but your O’Flahertys have become men, my darling.” He chuckled. “If you had eyes in your head, Skye, you’d see at least three of their bastards on this estate. High time that they were married, I say!”

“But Willow …”

“Skye, all of your children but Willow spring from the loins of noblemen. Willow may be a great heiress, but she hasn’t a great name. She needs to go to court if she is to find a suitable husband.”

“Willow’s father was a Spanish nobleman,” Skye said hotly.

“His family neither knows of her existence, nor would they recognize her as a legitimate offspring if they did. You and Khalid el Bey were married under Muslim law, and in the eyes of the Christian world that makes Willow a bastard. Your good name, your wealth, and your power, along with Robbie’s generosity to Willow have, however, protected her from that stigma. Nonetheless she must make the proper contacts for a suitable marriage, and as the Earl of Lynmouth’s sister, she will have the opportunity at court. Unless, of course, you propose a French marriage for her. My nephew, Jean-Antoine St. Justine, is seeking an heiress. He would be very good to her.”

“And very French,” Skye responded. “No, a Frenchman is not right for Willow. She is an Englishwoman to her toes, and she needs an English husband.”

“Then let her go to the Tudor court, Skye.”

“How strange this all is,” she said. “We are not welcome there, but the Queen personally invites our children. I wonder at it, Adam.”

“You are too suspicious, little girl.”

“It never hurts to be too suspicious when dealing with the Tudors,
mon mari,”
Skye warned him.

“Perhaps this is the Queen’s way of making friendly overtures and eventually forgiving us.”

“Why should she even be reminded of us?” Skye mused.

“Robin is with her,” Adam reasoned, “and then, too, this
business of a French marriage for her, and we are in France. It is logical.”

“It is odd,” she answered him. Then she sat up and pulled away from him. “Let us go tell the children that they may go before I am accused of breaking their hearts; or worse, before I change my mind.”

Skye’s two eldest sons, Ewan and Murrough O’Flaherty were married to Geoffrey Southwood’s twin daughters on July 26th. Although the girls were not identical twins they chose to wear identical ice-blue satin gowns embroidered in silver thread and clear crystals. Their lovely hair was unbound and fell to their hips, and atop their heads they wore wreaths of white roses and fluffy baby’s breath. The young Earl of Lynmouth proudly gave his half-sisters away in the church at Archambault, where the wedding was held. It was not a large wedding, the only guests being the family of the comte and comtesse along with Skye and Adam’s family. Tables were spread out over the lawns for the feasting afterward, and following the dancing the young couples were put to bed with much teasing and hilarity. On the next morning two bloody sheets hung from the two nuptial chambers at the château, waving in the summer breeze as the two couples, accompanied by their brother, Robin, and their sister, Willow, rode off to Nantes to embark upon an O’Malley ship for Bideford, and Ireland.

Willow was torn between the wild excitement she felt over returning to England arid joining the court, and leaving the security and love of her mother and stepfather. Skye hadn’t stopped lecturing her eldest daughter since the decision had been made to allow Willow to go.

“You must beware of the young men at court. Believe me, they will seek your virtue, and that virtue along with your fortune are the only assets you possess to obtain a titled husband.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“What you did in Paris last winter was very good, my darling. Never be alone with a young man lest you compromise your good name. Gossip can be such a vicious thing, Willow, and even if it is not true it raises an element of doubt.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“The Queen prefers her maidens to be virtuous, remember that.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Do not lend money to anyone. People will quickly know that you are an heiress, and they will come begging. You cannot
afford to lend to anyone lest you offend someone else. Say that you have a small allowance, and that barely enough to last until the next quarter. Dame Cecily will be in charge of your funds, Willow, and she will advance you nothing before you should have it, so be advised you must live within your income. I am sending you with more than enough clothes so what you will need monies for I know not. Still I would not have you penniless.”

“Yes, Mama.” Willow stifled a yawn. Her mother was being so tedious. She had said these things a hundred times over the last few weeks.

“You will listen to your brother.”

“Robin? He’s three years younger than I am!” Willow looked outraged.

“Nonetheless he has spent a good deal of his life at the Tudor court. He knows its ways, and he knows the gossip. Pay heed to him, Willow, for he would not have you shamed.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“A final word about men, Willow.”

“Oh, Mama!”

“Do not
Oh, Mama!
me, miss! In this I have experience, and you would do well to listen to me. Men can be utterly charming creatures when they seek to gain their own way with a girl. When you are tempted to listen to some young gallant, Willow, ask yourself, If I give in to his pretty pleas will he still marry me? Is he in a position to marry me? If he is, why is he assaulting my virtue prior to our wedding night? Does he not respect the delicacies of my feelings enough to wait? You will find, Willow, that a decent young man will approach you through your brother, or Sir Robert, or the Queen. You do not have to settle for a relationship of stolen kisses in a dark corner.”

“What makes you think that I would, Mama?” Willow demanded.

“You are ever a practical little puss, my darling,” Skye said, “but you lack experience. I only seek to share my experience with you so you will not be hurt.”

Willow flung herself at Skye, and hugged her hard. “Oh, Mama! I shall make you so proud of me, I promise you! I shall only have the most noble of husbands, and I shall make the Queen relent and allow you and Adam to come home.”

Skye smiled through her tears, and kissed her daughter tenderly. “I am going to miss you,” she said. “Oh, how I am going to miss you!”

“Let us be off!” the Earl of Lynmouth fussed impatiently. “She has either learned her lessons, Mother, or she has not. Willow has always been bright, and I do not expect her to be an embarrassment to us.”

Skye next advised her eldest son to attempt to remain neutral in the continuing fight between the English and the Irish.

“It won’t be easy,” she said, “but try to consider the long run. You have a wife now, and soon there will be children, Ewan. All you have to offer them is Ballyhennessey, and it’s been O’Flaherty land for over three hundred years. Don’t be driven by the hotheads or the Church into losing your heritage, my son.”

“It will come down to religion in the end, Mother.”

“I know that, Ewan, but ask yourself this. What difference does it make
how
you worship God as long as you worship Him? Ask yourself why you should endanger your lands and your family because an Italian pope and an English monarch cannot decide, and argue over dogma?”

“Is that why you never took sides, Mother?”

“Your grandfather, Dubhdara O’Malley, of sainted memory, God assoil him, taught me that the family came first, Ewan. It has ever been thus with me. I have not had as much of a hand in raising you as I would have wanted, but you are my son. You will do what you believe best, and you will follow your conscience. I do not envy you, Ewan. Ireland is a torn and angry land.” She held out her arms to him, and walking into them, he hugged her. “God speed, my eldest,” Skye said.

The others came then for their hugs and kisses while his young and impatient lordship, the earl, stood tapping an elegantly shod foot. He had said his good-byes privately, as Robin believed befit his dignity. Finally the others were ready, and the three young women climbed into the coach. The men were to ride. Leaning from the windows of the vehicle as it pulled away, they waved happily to Skye and Adam. Behind them came a second, larger coach containing the tiring women, the valets, and the luggage. The household goods that the newly married young women would need had gone on to Nantes several days earlier.

When the travelers had disappeared from view around the bend in the drive Adam heaved a mighty sigh. “Let’s go home, little girl!” he said, and he helped her into the smaller waiting carriage.

Skye climbed into the vehicle feeling terribly depressed. Her elder children were gone, and her three youngest would be staying
at Archambault for several days visiting their cousins. She sighed deeply as the carriage moved down the drive and onto the forest road back to Belle Fleurs. “I am old,” she announced in a sad voice.

Adam looked at his wife’s beautiful woebegone face, and began to chuckle. “Have I domesticated you so, sweetheart, that you are that lost without your brood of chicks?”

“Don’t you understand?” she said. “My two eldest sons are married. After last night their wives could already be with child. My eldest daughter is off to court to seek a husband. I could be a grandmother in a year! I am old!”

He began to laugh, and pulling her into his arms, he slipped a hand into her dress to capture a plump breast. “Madame,” he said as he began to tease at her nipple, “you are a woman of maturity, I will grant you, but you’ve not yet attained your thirty-fourth birthday, Skye.” His fingers skillfully undid the laces on her bodice, successfully freeing both her breasts. “God, they’re beautiful!” he groaned, burying his face in the valley separating them and covering her suddenly trembling flesh with hot kisses.

Skye felt herself begin to grow tingly with the pleasure he was arousing in her. Her slender hand entangled itself in his thick black hair, and began to slip softly down to the back of his neck to rub against the soft flesh. “If you think to turn my interest, monseigneur,” she murmured with faint protest, and then as his other hand slipped beneath her skirts and moved upward, she cried out, “Adam! Oh, my darling!”

“What a shameless hussy you are, old woman,” he teased her.

“I am not old!” she said suddenly, realizing how foolish she must have sounded, and also realizing that she didn’t feel one bit older now than she had at twenty. Feeling better, she mischievously moved her hand to caress him, and felt her heart quicken at the hard, hungry length of him. “I shall never be old as long as I can do that to you, my darling,” she whispered in his ear as she loosened his garments and released him.

Roughly Adam pulled her onto his lap, raising her skirts to position her on his mighty lance. With a gasp of delight she found he had taken the most complete possession of her. Her legs were over his thighs, her feet pushing into the velvet upholstery of the carriage seat. His arms were tightly about her as hers were about him, and he was suddenly kissing her ardently, his
tongue fencing with hers while they rocked back and forth with the motion of the coach.

The sensation was one of complete rapture, and Skye cried out softly to her husband as the delicious warmth and excitement of his lovemaking began to fan a flame of incredible passion within her dazzled and stimulated body. “Ohhh, Aaadam,” she breathed as the first small wave of pleasure swept over her, and then, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” as the full impact of the delight rendered her weak and satisfied, and she fell against his chest panting.

His breathing was ragged in her ear, but she was too weak to move for the minute. Finally, as the wild beating of their hearts calmed, he said softly, “Haven’t you ever made love in a coach before, little girl?”

“No, though once Geoffrey mentioned it as we came down from London. In the end, however, he decided it was far more comfortable to do so in a bed,” she laughed softly, remembering.

“Yes,” Adam considered, “Geoff was always one for his comforts, as I recall. Tell me, madame, are you still feeling ancient and haggard?”

“I feel marvelous!” she enthused.

“How quickly do you think you can make yourself presentable?” he queried.

“Why?” She snuggled against him.

“Because, little girl, Belle Fleurs is in sight, and I should hate to shock the footman who will open this coach door in a few moments.”

With his amused aid she quickly scrambled off him, and began relacing her bodice, smoothing her skirts and her hair. “You had best see to your own dishabille, monseigneur,” she teased him as his smoky eyes fastened upon her bosom.

“How long are the children gone for, little girl?”

“A fortnight,” she answered.

“Good,” he said. “I intend to spend all of that time with you, my love, and most of it in our bed. It has been a long time, it seems to me, since we were alone and free to be lovers.”

“Can we not ride, and picnic in the forest?” she teased him.

“Only if you allow me to make love to you beneath the stately oaks.”

Her face softened, and she whispered, “Yes, oh yes,
mon mari!”
just as their carriage clattered over the drawbridge and into the courtyard of the château.

Adam de Marisco was a man of his word, and so for the next two weeks he and Skye spent almost every waking and sleeping moment together. It seemed to them both that they were more deeply and powerfully in love than they had ever been. When the three youngest children returned Adam took it upon himself to begin to instruct young Padraic in the business of running an estate, while Deirdre began to follow after her mother, learning all that was necessary to the running of a household.