Lost Love Found (16 page)

“Valentina!”

They turned to see Lord Burke coming toward them. He bowed. After kissing Lady Howard’s hand, he kissed Valentina’s.

“This is my cousin, Lord Burke.” Valentina introduced him to the Countess of Nottingham.

“You are Lady de Marisco’s son?” asked Lady Howard.

“Aye, madam, I am.”

“I remember your mother. There was always much excitement at court when she was here.”

“Indeed, madam, so I have been told,” replied Padraic, his eyes twinkling.

Lady Howard chuckled, then said to Valentina, “Take a few moments for yourself, my child. I will see to the maids.” She hurried into the queen’s apartments.

“You have not been at court, my lord,” Valentina told him.

“I have been at Clearfields seeing that everything is snug and safe for the winter months. Did you miss me, hinny love?”

“I have been too busy to miss you, Padraic. Willow’s Gaby arrived ten days ago. Unlike the others, your niece is not in the least intimidated by me. Fortunately, she has James’s sweet nature, and …”

“I missed you,” he interrupted, slipping an arm around her slender waist and leaning forward to kiss her earlobe.

“Padraic! Behave yourself! You’ll lose me my place,” she scolded him.

“In that event, you would have no choice but to marry me, hinny love,” he told her.

“I have no intention of marrying anyone!” she said firmly. Twisting out of his grasp, she hurried into the queen’s apartments. Damn him! Why was he so sure of her? She was not even sure of herself. He hadn’t bothered to tell her that he was going to Clearfields. One day, he had simply not been there, and when she asked Willow, Willow hadn’t known where he was, either.

“How very like Padraic,” Willow had said. “He always was a will-o’-the-wisp.”

That was small comfort, indeed! Oh, why was Padraic being so difficult, changing when she wanted everything to remain the way it had always been? He was her best friend, and she liked that. It confused her when he murmured love talk to her and kissed her ear. She felt … funny. As if she were not really Valentina St. Michael but someone else.

“Oh, Lady Barrows!” Beth was calling to her. “There is to be a small fête this evening with dancing! The queen says we may wear our prettiest gowns!”

“And is your prettiest gown all sponged fresh and pressed, Mistress Stanley?” Valentina asked Beth, giving her a hug. “You may put your needles aside, my maids. If Her Majesty does not need us for the present, then you are free to attend to your gowns for this evening.”

Indeed the queen did not need them. She was busy eating a large bowl of delicious soup that her cook had sent her and eyeing a plum jam tart on the sideboard with great interest. Her mood jovial now, she waved the maids of honor away.

That evening, her mood still light, Elizabeth Tudor entertained her court playing on her perfumed glass virginals with zest and vigor. Many there had never heard her play, and they were quite surprised by the queen’s skill. Afterward, there was dancing, for the queen always loved dancing. There was a time when she would have danced every dance, but she was unable now to spend a whole evening capering. Garbed in white velvet embroidered with gold, pearls, and rubies, wearing a bright red wig, the queen danced the Spanish Panic, a rowdy, vigorous dance with much stomping and hand clapping. Aged, though she was, no one danced it better than Elizabeth Tudor. She danced with Sir Walter Ralegh, silently regretting the loss of Sir Christopher Hatton, who had been such a marvelous dancer and her favorite partner over the years.

A waltz-like lavolta followed. Valentina, who had danced the Spanish Panic with Padraic, suddenly found herself facing Tom Ashburne, the Earl of Kempe. As the music began, the earl made her an elegant leg and she swept him a curtsy. “Divinity,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. Val could not suppress a smile. To the side, she saw Padraic, successfully cut off from her, dancing with little Beth Stanley, who was gazing up at him with rapt adoration. Lord Burke appeared decidedly annoyed.

When the dance ended, Tom Ashburne tucked Valentina’s hand in his and walked her to the picture gallery. “I have been trying for weeks to gain your attention, and get you alone,” he said softly. “You are a difficult woman, madam. Do you take no time for yourself?”

“I am here to serve the queen, my lord, not to offer myself as amusement for bored noblemen.” How had they arrived at this secluded alcove?

“Madam, you wound me!” His arm around her waist; he drew her close to him. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are like amethyst stars?”

“Aye, my lord, many have,” she answered smoothly. Her heart was beating wildly.

“Liar,” he drawled, and then his mouth closed over hers. “Let me see if your tongue is as sweet as it is sharp, divinity,” he murmured.

His lips were warm fire, gently forcing her lips apart as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. Padraic had done that to her, but this wasn’t Padraic, she told herself, beginning to panic. This man was a stranger, yet she could feel herself responding to him. Her breasts swelled over the neckline of her black velvet gown, and his hands gripped her waist as she leaned backward. With a low groan, he bent to cover her breasts with hot kisses, but when his mouth closed over a nipple and he tongued it swiftly to a hard point, Valentina cried out.

“No! No! Oh, please, my lord! No!” She pushed him away, drawing up the errant lace to shield her bosom from his passionate glance. Backing away from him and shaking her head, she began to cry. “I am no one’s light-o’-love, sir. Forgive me, for I did not mean to lead you onward when I would not go onward.”

His misty gray-blue eyes smoldered. His fires were barely banked, by no means cold. “Surely you cannot believe I will be satisfied with such a tiny taste of paradise, divinity?” He did not move toward her, but somehow that made it worse.

“I am a respectable widow in mourning for her husband, my lord Ashburne. I am ashamed that my behavior enabled you to believe otherwise.”

“I want you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes widened. She had told Padraic that she wanted a bold man. Now that she stood facing one, she was not certain she liked it. “Even if I were not in mourning for Lord Barrows,” she continued desperately, “I would not play the wanton. Please, tell me you have not thought otherwise.” Her tears mortified her. She felt younger and more foolish than the six silly girls in her charge.

He sighed and, moving toward her, brushed away a tear. “Do not cry, Valentina,” he said softly. “Do not cry, my exquisite divinity. Believe me when I tell you that you are the most respectable and proper of widows. But that does not alter the fact that I desire you.”

“You should not speak to me so,” she admonished him, but her heart was not really in the rebuke.

He knew it. “I want you to know how I feel, divinity, for I intend courting you once you have ceased to mourn your husband.”

He almost took her breath away, but drawing on her inner strength, she said coolly, “I do not know if I shall marry again, my lord. Having had one husband, I do not see the necessity for another.”

“Who will care for you?” he asked her.

“Ned left me well cared for, my lord.”

“You will need a husband if you want children, divinity. That is one thing you cannot get without a husband.”

“I am the eldest of seven. I have spent many hours caring for children. Perhaps I am weary of such tasks, my lord.” She was feeling a bit stronger now that he was not gazing at her so fiercely.

“You are not an adventurer like your famous aunt Skye, madam. You are meant for home, hearth, and family,” he said.

“Indeed, my lord? You have reached this conclusion based on your short acquaintance with me?” He was beginning to sound more like Padraic.
Why
were men so irritating?

“You are a woman, madam, and women are meant for home, hearth, and family,” he repeated. “There is no mystery to it.”

“I am not,” she said with a sigh, “like other women. In fact, sir, all women are as different from one another as are all men. Have you never looked at a rosebush, my lord? Though the flowers are all red, each one is slightly different from the other. So it is with people, male or female.”

“What you say must be truth, divinity, for I have known many women, but none has ever made me desirous of courting her. You, however, have.”

“You are a bold man, my lord! I do not encourage you in your folly,” Valentina exclaimed.

“I do not think it folly to court you, madam.” His eyes twinkled. “You do not discourage me from courting you, I mink.”

“Take me back to the queen,” Valentina ordered him. “You have already played havoc with my reputation, my lord.”

“One kiss,” he said.

“I shall scream,” she answered him.

“I think not,” he told her, stealing a quick kiss, his mustache tickling her lip.

“My lord!” Valentina stamped her foot. “You presume far too much.”

“Nay, divinity, I merely dare to dream,” he replied. Taking her arm, he led her back to the dancing without another word.

“It is our dance, I think, Val,” Padraic Burke said coolly as she and Thomas entered the hall. Padraic swept her away without acknowledging the Earl of Kempe.

The dance was a long one. When it finally concluded, Padraic managed to maneuver her out the very same door that the earl had taken her through so recently. Valentina almost laughed aloud to find herself in the very same discreet alcove she had shared with Tom Ashburne.

“Padraic, what is this?” she demanded.

“I want to kiss you, Val, and I am scarcely of a mind to do it before the entire court.”

“And if I am not of a mind to be kissed, my lord?” It was all too funny, and she was very near to laughter. What was suddenly happening in her life?

“Valentina Elizabeth Rowena St. Michael,” intoned Padraic, “I cannot believe you would play favorites—particularly considering that you are such a respectable widow in mourning for her husband.”

“You were listening? Oh! Villain!” She blushed even as she hit out at him, but he caught her hand in his and placed a kiss on the upturned palm. The kiss sent a shiver of shock through her.

“Did you believe I would allow Tom Ashburne to beat me, hinny love?” He drew her close, successfully pinioning her arms to her side with his embrace.

“You had no right to spy on me, Padraic Burke!” Outraged, her eyes flashed angrily at him. Damn all men to hell and back!

His aquamarine-blue eyes mesmerized her own eyes, silently saying things he would not at this time give voice or words to; daring her to play the coward and look away. Then slowly, slowly, he lowered his dark head to join his mouth to hers. For the life of her, she could not refuse him. He kissed her deeply, and after a moment, she began to kiss him. She wanted to fight him, to thrust him away from her, but could find no strength to do it. Raising his head, he caught her gaze and then pressed soft little kisses across her quivering mouth. Deliberately, gently, he eased one of her breasts from its confinement and, cupping it in his big hand, gazed at it lovingly.

“Don’t! Oh, don’t!” she whispered, feeling her cheeks growing warm as before her very eyes, the rosy nipple puckered tightly like some October frosted bud, yet he had not touched it.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, “how very beautiful you really are, sweet love. Your mouth is half bruised with my kisses, and your lovely eyes are warm with a passion you do not even understand yet. I will regret to my dying day that I allowed you to wed Edward Barrows when I wanted you for myself. It is not a mistake I will repeat, Val. You belong to me.” He kissed the little nipple, and a great shudder tore through her.

“I am my own mistress,” she gasped. She was aching with a longing she very clearly recognized.

“As long as you are not Tom Ashburne’s mistress, Val. He would seduce you, and you are, as you see, very vulnerable. Edward Barrows may have been a cold fish, God rest him, but when he deflowered you, Val, he let loose a passion that a man like him could not have imagined. It takes a real man to stoke those passions, and you, my beauty, are aflame. Amuse yourself. Flirt with Tom Ashburne if you must, but remember, hinny love, that you are to be my wife when you have finished mourning Ned Barrows,” Padraic concluded.

Gently, she extricated herself from his tantalizing grasp, ordering her gown. “Lord Kempe does not wish to seduce me, Padraic,” she said. “He, too, wishes to wed me. You would wed me … he would wed me … and I would not wed at all. It will be interesting to see whose will prevails in this matter,” she said wryly.

Padraic Burke grinned at Valentina. “Aye, sweet, it will be. I wish to remind you that we Burkes are used to getting what we want.”

“Indeed, my lord? Well, we shall see. I have four more months of mourning for Ned,” she reminded him.

“Dark colors become you,” he told her. “This gown makes your skin look even more like white rose petals.”

“A nicely turned phrase, my lord Burke,” the Earl of Kempe called to them as he joined them in the picture gallery. “So we are rivals for the lady’s affections, are we? Not unlike the old days, is it, Padraic?” He gave Padraic an amused look.

Valentina was appalled. Had Tom been spying on her and Padraic even as Padraic had spied on her and Tom? To cover her embarrasment, she said, “ ‘The old days’?”

“Tom and I met on the Spanish Main in our salad days, Val,” Lord Burke explained.

“And we were also at Cádiz together with the Earl of Essex,” Lord Ashburne told her.

“You are not involved with Essex now, I hope,” Lord Burke asked him.

Tom Ashbourne shook his head. “He plays too dangerous a game, Padraic. Adventure is one thing, but Essex flirts with treason. He will not survive it, I fear.”

“On that we are in agreement, Tom.”

“My lords, you must escort me back to the hall,” Valentina said. “If you wish to continue your discussion of the old days, continue it there. I am not certain your behavior has not compromised my good name.”

The two men grinned and, bowing to Valentina, each offered her an arm. Together the trio entered the chamber where the queen’s fête was reaching its peak.