Skye O'Malley (79 page)

“Bess won’t lie with you, Robert, but I will,” she answered frankly.

“What of your husband?”

“Walter?” Lettice laughed again. “What about him?”

A slow smile lit Dudley’s features. He was beginning to feel expansive again. He backed Lettice skillfully into an alcove and slipped a hand into her bodice. The warm, full breast that overflowed into his palm grew taut with unconcealed desire. “Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, well pleased, “you’re a fine piece of goods, and all set to diddle, I’ll wager.”

“I’m already wet for you, Rob,” she admitted, “but it must keep. Come to my apartment tonight. I am not on duty to the Queen after eleven.” She casually removed his hand, and moved away.

Robert Dudley watched her go, feeling very satisfied. If Bess wouldn’t, there was always someone else who would. Discreetly, of course, for there was still a chance he might be King.

Late that afternoon Skye started with surprise when Lord Burghley was ushered into her rooms. The chancellor, himself a grandfather, was enchanted by the sight before him. Lady Burke, her hair loose about her shoulders, sat upon the floor playing with her little daughter. The baby lay on her back, kicking her little feet and legs, cooing softly. “Good afternoon, madam,” said William Cecil. “I bring good news.”

Skye scrambled to her feet. “Daisy, take the baby.” The maidservant picked Deirdre up and hurried from the room. Skye smoothed her skirts. Pouring two goblets of wine, she offered one to Cecil. “Sit down, my lord,” she motioned him to a seat, “and tell me your good news.”

“You’re free, madam.”

Her beautiful eyes grew wide with surprise, then dark with suspicion. “Just like that, my lord? ‘You’re free.’ ” She could feel her temper rising. They had snatched her from her husband and family, endangered her unborn child, imprisoned her without charges, and now they calmly said, “You’re free.” Skye fixed her gaze steadily on Cecil. “I am free to go home?”

“In a few days. The release is now being drawn up, and the Queen will sign it tomorrow. Your husband will be allowed into London to escort you home to Devon.”

“Perhaps
now
you will be so kind as to tell me why I have spent the best part of six months here?” asked Skye.

A wry smile touched William Cecil’s lips, and his eyes twinkled for a brief moment. “Skye O’Malley,” he said quietly, “we both know the truth of why you are here, though you’d not admit to it and I have not the evidence I need to prove it. Over the last two years you have cost Elizabeth Tudor considerable revenues with your piracies. When we set out to trap you with the
Santa Maria Madre de Cristos
I thought we would be in time to catch you with the booty. I was wrong. You are well organized and a frighteningly intelligent and bold woman.

“Your husband, Sir Robert Small, and the lord of Lundy Isle have gone to enormous lengths to present me with evidence supporting your innocence. I am accepting their story and freeing you, but hear me well, my lady of Innisfana. You have seen that a royal whim can imprison you without explanation. Should there be further
trouble in Devon we shall know where to find you. The next time, nothing will free you. I think the Queen has paid dearly for her appalling error in judgment. I do not like Dudley either, m’dear.”

Not a muscle in Skye’s face moved during his speech, nor did her eyes betray her. Cecil was impressed. She was truly a worthy and an impressive adversary. “Well, madam, what have you to say to me?” he demanded.

“That I am glad to be going home, Master Cecil,” Skye answered calmly. “That I will be happy to see my husband. And that,” she added mischievously, “if you can find no proof of my alleged crimes, then I must be judged the innocent that I am.”

Cecil drained his goblet. “I suppose you must,” he answered thoughtfully. He rose and moved to the door. “It was a good revenge, madam, well organized, well thought out, and well executed. I salute you.”

Skye flashed him an impudent smile, silently acknowledging the praise. But she said, “La, sir! I know not what you mean.”

The door closed behind Cecil and, for a brief moment, Skye stood still, listening to his footsteps retreating down the stairs. Elation began to build. She had won! She had beaten Elizabeth Tudor! She had beaten the Queen of England! Then as suddenly she began to cry, the tension of the last few months releasing itself in the tears that poured down her face.

The door from the bedchamber opened and Eibhlin and Daisy both hurried in. “Skye!” Eibhlin flew to her sister’s side. “Skye, my love, what is it? What did Cecil want? Are you all right? Oh, damn these English anyhow!”

Daisy was shocked by Eibhlin’s cursing. Her servant’s disapproving face moved Skye from tears to laughter. “We’re free,” she laughed. “We’re going home! I’ve beaten the Queen!”

“Is it a trick?” asked Eibhlin.

“No. There is no evidence against me, and Robbie and de Marisco have somehow managed to convince Cecil that I am not guilty.”

“I’d be interested in knowing just how,” said Eibhlin.

“So would I, my sister,” returned Skye, now calmer and more thoughtful.

They did not have long to wait. The following day Sir John brought Skye the signed order for her release. “You are to go tonight, Lady Burke. Lord Burghley does not wish you to be seen leaving the Tower. You’ll go by river barge to Greenwood under
cover of darkness. Your husband is waiting there for you. You are ordered to quit London by tomorrow night.”

“Thank you, Sir John, and my thanks to you and to Lady Alyce for making my sojourn with you as pleasant as it could be.”

The Tower governor smiled good-naturedly. “I am not often thanked for my hospitality,” he said humorously. Then he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “God speed, Lady Burke.”

In the dark of a rainy evening three muffled figures made their way from the Tower through the river gate, and into a waiting barge. A guard on the walls thought he heard a baby’s cry. Skye and Eibhlin breathed deeply of the saturated air which carried a scent of the sea and then, laughing softly at themselves, smiled at one another. The barge cut smoothly through the black waters. Peeping through the curtains every now and then to ascertain their position, they spied quick glimpses of the city of London. Soon the elegant palaces and houses of the Strand were visible, and Skye felt her heart quicken as the barge swept by them all and swung around the bend to make for Greenwood’s landing. Lynmouth House stood dark next door, and only a few lights shone at Greenwood.

The barge bumped the landing, and the guardsman accompanying them leaped out to secure the craft. Then he helped the passengers to the dock, starting with Eibhlin, to whom Daisy handed the baby. Then Skye and lastly the faithful serving woman stepped out. Their few bags were placed on the dock. “The rest of yer things will be brought tomorrow, my lady,” said the guardsman. Then he jumped back down into the barge, loosed its rope, and the boat swung back out into the current and headed downriver.

For a moment they stood in the windy night, looking around. “Why is no one here to meet us?” whispered Daisy fearfully.

“I have no idea,” replied Skye, “but there are lights in the house.” She moved determinedly up the steps from the boat quay, toward the house. Eibhlin, with Deirdre cradled in her arms, followed her sister. Daisy struggled behind with their bags. The long glass doors of the library glowed with reflected firelight as she put her hand on the door handles and pushed them open.

Niall Burke turned, startled, as the wet night wind rushed into the room. Finding his voice, he gasped, “Skye!”

“Aye, my lord. I’m home, and a poor welcome it is with no one to meet us at the quay.”

“We didn’t know you were coming! Adam! Robbie! Skye is home!”

The inner library door crashed open, and de Marisco and Robert Small rushed into the room. The lord of Lundy stopped just short of kissing her, his smoky blue eyes meeting her sapphire gaze, saying all the things he dared not say aloud. “I don’t know how you did it, Adam, but thank you,” she said softly. Adam de Marisco nodded mutely, and Skye turned quickly to Robert Small. “My dear Robbie, thank you also. I am certainly blessed in my friends.”

The little captain wiped the tears from his eyes. “No more mischief now, lass. The next time we may not be so lucky.”

“So Cecil tells me,” she said drily. “Eibhlin, give me Deirdre.” Gently taking the sleeping infant, Skye walked across the room to where Niall stood. “My lord, may I present you with your daughter, Deirdre. She was born December 12th, and is now almost five months old.”

Wonderingly Niall lifted the blanket and gazed for the first time upon his sleeping daughter. “Christ,” he said softly, “she’s so little! And she’s so beautiful.”

“Little?” snapped Eibhlin. “She’s most certainly not little! She was little when she was born. She’s a fine big girl now, and growing every day.” She snatched the baby back from Skye. “I trust there’s a cradle in this house, sister?”

“Daisy will show you, Eibhlin.”

Eibhlin looked to the two men. “Come along, you two great buffoons,” she snapped. “He’s not going to kiss her until we’ve gone,” and she herded the three others from the room.

Niall Burke stood looking down at his wife. “Oh, my love,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I have missed you as I never thought it possible to miss you again. It’s now three times you’ve been taken from me, Skye.”

“But never again, Niall. Only God can part us now. I promise you!”

“That’s a promise I intend for you to keep, my love,” he said, and then he was kissing her, and the pent-up ardor exploded in a wave of fire that, had it had substance, would have ignited the house and all of London. Their lips explored the familiar territory so long denied. She clung to him. His fingers tenderly caressed her upturned face, gently brushing away the tears that were slipping slowly down her cheeks.

“I will never again let you go away from me,” he said again. “I will give you your head in many things, but not in all matters, Skye. You are too headstrong for your own good. This affair might have ended tragically, but for a bit of luck and Adam de Marisco’s clever thinking. He loves you greatly, my darling. It’s almost too painful to
behold. And Robbie. You’re the daughter he never had, Skye, and you’ve hurt him terribly. Had we lost you, I don’t think he’d have survived you by very long.”

“It’s over, Niall. I swear it!”

He smiled a slow smile at her. “I want you,” he said quietly.

“I want you,” she answered.

He held out his hand to her and she took it, delighting as his warm fingers closed around hers in the lovely and familiar sensation. Together they walked from the library, and upstairs to Skye’s old bedroom overlooking the river. Wordlessly they removed their clothing. As she undressed, the memories crowded in about Skye. Walking to the window, she stared out and saw that the night had begun to clear. Storm-tossed clouds chased the quarter moon across the sky and here and there stars were suddenly visible.

How long ago had she stood in this very spot letting Geoffrey into her room? A lifetime ago, surely, and now that was over and done with. She smiled with the memory of her “Angel Earl” hanging on a vine, and then put the memory from her.

She turned back to Niall. He stood watching her struggle with her memories, understanding what she must be going through. Proudly she walked over to him and, standing on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “It is our time now, my lord husband. Our time, now and always!” With a glad cry he swept her up and carried her to their bed.

In the morning the sun shone warm and bright for the first time in days. Spring had finally had its way in England. Skye awoke content and relaxed for the first time in months, blushing rosy with happiness at the memory of the previous night. Mischievously she straddled the sleeping Niall, lying on his stomach, and began to brush her soft breasts against his back. Shortly her labors were rewarded by a murmuring, and then he said sleepily, “That’s nice, Rose lass, don’t stop.”

“
Rose?
Oh, you knave!” she shrieked, outraged. Grabbing a handful of his dark hair, she yanked with all her strength.

“Ow!” he roared, his body shaking with laughter. Turning over, he imprisoned her on top of him, and she felt his manhood, hard and seeking. They were face to face, and his silver eyes glittered. He raised her carefully and then lowered her, slowly impaling her inch by sweet inch onto his lance. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and fast clouding with desire.

His hands reached up to play with the perfect round fruits of her breasts, and he lifted his head to nurse on a dark nipple, eyes widening in surprise at the milk that suddenly filled his mouth. Fascinated,
he continued suckling, and more excited than she had ever been, Skye found her hips moving in the age-old rhythm of pleasure. She was shocked by herself, and by him, for neither of them could stop. Unable to control herself any longer, Skye pulled away from him and, arching her body, threw back her head, and took her release. Her pleasure increased when she felt him taking his as well.

She collapsed atop him, and he gently laid her on her side. When his breathing had quieted he said tentatively, “Dear God, Skye, I apologize.”

“For what, my love?”

“For stealing my daughter’s breakfast,” he answered, shamefaced.

She laughed softly. “Don’t worry, Niall. I have two.”

“Two?”

Skye giggled, openly amused now. “Two breasts, my dearest fool! One is more than enough for Deirdre’s breakfast, and I’d best fetch her, for Cecil told me yesterday that we must leave London today without fail.”

“Don’t go, my love,” he pleaded. “It’s been so long.”

“You had Rose to keep you company.”

“No, love. From the day we reconciled our differences and became truly wed there has been no one else.” Sapphire eyes locked into silver ones knew he spoke the truth.

“Thank you, Niall,” she said. “Thank you for that.”

There was a sharp rap on the door and Eibhlin’s tart voice called, “Your daughter needs to be fed, and we must be on the road soon. If you’ve not been well reunited by now, then nothing will help you!”