The Game (21 page)

And neither one of them saw the man standing in the doorway, watching them. William Cecil’s first reaction was to cough and clear his throat, to alert the lovers to his presence—to break them up. But he had thought long and hard these past few days on the coil that the triangle of FitzMaurice, FitzGerald, and O’Neill represented. Long and hard had he thought on how strange it was that O’Neill had seized such an insignificant French vessel—one politically valueless—unless one counted Katherine FitzGerald’s possible—future—worth. Staring, witnessing Liam’s lust now firsthand, he suspected that Ormond was right. And finally his thoughts congealed. He closed the
chamber door quietly, turned, and walked back through the antechamber. He stopped a passing servant. “Leave the work in the queen’s apartments for later,” he instructed her.

And her eyes flickered to the closed door. Comprehension showed in her gaze. She curtsied, and turned away.

And as Cecil moved down the hall, he thought,
Is Liam O’Neill yet friend, or foe? How far will he go in his alliance with FitzGerald?
For Cecil was certain that the alliance existed. And finally he wondered if there was some way to use the girl to control him. Or did Katherine FitzGerald already control him in a way as old as time?

The queen smiled at Leicester, who stood beside her where she sat upon her throne. “I am pleased you are here, Robin,” she said archly.

He smiled at her, patting her hand with great familiarity. “Your concerns are my concerns, Your Majesty. Always—you know that.”

Elizabeth was pleased, and she faced her cousin, Ormond, who scowled at them both, and Cecil, who was impassive. “I have just received a missive from Sir John Perrot,” she stated. “He claims that the FitzGerald girl is as Irish as any rebel, akin with her father, and not to be trusted. He had O’Neill and the girl followed. They went to Castle Barry, nothing more. They but stayed the single night. There was nothing overtly suspicious to report, except for the fact that O’Neill departed Cork in great haste, without awaiting his papers, and, of course, the fact that Katherine is not to wed Barry. But as we know, O’Neill brought the girl directly to Us—and that is not an act of conspiracy.”

It was brilliant, Cecil thought, just as Liam O’Neill was brilliant, but he did not say so.

Ormond growled. “’Twas a ruse from the start. She never went to Munster to wed with Barry, but to relay information from her father. Your Majesty, FitzGerald is up to his old tricks again—only this time he has enlisted the Master of the Seas to his rebel cause!”

Leicester was annoyed. He gave Ormond a quelling
glance. “There is no proof, Butler, that O’Neill conspires with FitzGerald. Your hysteria leads you astray.”

“Oh, it does? And what do you suggest?” Ormond demanded of Dudley, dark with anger. “To release a traitor into our midst?”

Leicester stared coldly at his chief rival for the queen’s affection. Since FitzGerald had been removed from southern Ireland, no lord there was as powerful as Ormond. “FitzGerald is hardly the traitor that his cousin is, Tom. We would all be better off should he regain his lands and oust the damnable papist.”

“Enough!” Elizabeth snapped before Ormond could retort. “I thought we’d finished this business three years ago when ’twas decided to try FitzGerald for treason. I have no wish to go backward now. I want to go forward.” Elizabeth looked at Cecil. “What say you, Sir William? Does my golden pirate conspire against me?”

Her secretary said, “While evidence is growing, there are other possible explanations for O’Neill’s conduct. I can not conclude that there is a conspiracy against you, Your Majesty. Not yet.” His face was impassive, giving no clue to his innermost thoughts—and the conclusions he’d recently reached. It was not his method to bother the queen with matters she did not need to know.

“He is obviously involved in conspiracy,” Tom Butler almost shouted. “Dear God, has not one of you your wits about you? Why else would O’Neill bring the girl to her father? And if FitzGerald is gathering allies, the south will be at war for many more years! Do you wish to have both FitzMaurice
and
FitzGerald running wild in southern Ireland?” he demanded of the queen.

“You know I do not,” she cried.

Leicester’s glance found Cecil’s and rested there. Although they were hardly friends, both jealous of the other’s influence with the queen, from time to time they allied themselves in a cause. This was one of those times. After but a moment, Cecil looked away.

Leicester took Elizabeth’s hand. “Surely O’Neill is smitten with the girl’s beauty. He may be a foul pirate, but he is a man. And he is renowned for his conquests—
remember the Dowager Countess Marian?” Leicester was pleased to see Elizabeth flinch. “As always the pirate seeks but two things, gold and the satisfaction of his lust.”

“You still support FitzGerald,” Ormond accused.

“Must you both be at daggers always?” Elizabeth cried. She wrung her hands, flushed with distress. “One thing is clear, though. Perrot claims the girl is not to be trusted, that she is fiercely loyal to FitzGerald and her kin. I would trust Sir John’s judgment. But whether she is a conduit or not…” Elizabeth trailed off. “I think not. No, Liam would not do this to me.”

Instantly Ormond snapped, “Bess! She is a conduit! Do not be fooled! Give her over to me as a ward and all this conspiracy will be ended!”

Leicester’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have sudden brotherly feelings for your long-lost sister, Tom? Or do you have other, more manly, ones?” he sneered.

Ormond ignored him and stepped closer to the queen. “Dearest cousin, let me take care of her. I am her half brother and there would be nothing strange if you were to give her over to my protection. I will send her to my brothers in Kilkenny where she shall be watched closely. She will not be able to make contact with her father, I can assure you of that.”

“She asked me to marry her off,” Elizabeth said. “Her plea was most eloquent. She made a most convincing case that her only desire is to be gently wed. If she speaks truthfully, there could not possibly be a conspiracy between her father and Liam O’Neill.”

“’Twas theatrics,” Ormond inserted.

“She is a clever lass, her plea showed that,” Elizabeth murmured. “God knows, her mother was most intelligent, and FitzGerald is sly as a fox.”

Cecil spoke up. “I advise we leave her be. I, too, think she is innocent. And if not, then let her work her business of treason
if
that is the case. FitzGerald is but a prisoner, Your Majesty, and as such, can do little harm. If she is guilty, the girl will lead us to any hornet’s nest that exists.” Cecil hardly blinked. He was counting on O’Neill
to be far too clever to be caught just yet at the deadly game he now played.

Ormond groaned. Leicester stared at Cecil, unspeaking, and Cecil calmly met his gaze. Although Cecil did not care for Leicester, this time he knew they understood one another and were allied. Leicester for self-serving reasons, as he despised Ormond. Cecil because he wished to protect his country and his queen.

“You could,” Leicester said casually, “marry her to someone close to you, someone loyal, someone who would be able to spy upon her—and control her or use her if need be.”

Elizabeth twisted to stare directly at him. She did not smile. “If I had but two of you, Robin, I could marry her off to one of you.” Her gaze was diamond hard.

He smiled, white teeth flashing against his swarthy skin. “As I am but one man, ’twould break my heart, Elizabeth, were you to give me any bride.”

Elizabeth’s gaze was sharp upon his features. Finally she softened. “We have decided,” she announced. “We will combine all of the ideas aired here. The girl will remain unwed for now, for if we do decide to marry her off, it must be with great thought. She shall remain with Us here at court.” Elizabeth smiled. “As one of Our privy ladies. And We will give her some degree of freedom, allow her to visit her father, in the hope that We can uncover this hornet’s nest. And to make sure that We do not miss a single trick, We will give her a tiring woman of her own—who will spy upon her every movement and report back to Us each day.”

Everyone smiled. It was agreed. Katherine would become the queen’s lady-in-waiting in the hope that she would lead them to a nest of conspiracy and treason.

L
iam was summoned to the queen, not at midnight, as he had been summoned before, but the following morning well before the noon meal. He had not expected a nocturnal audience. Not after seeing Leicester leaving the queen’s bedchamber after what had obviously been a private—and friendly—interview. Leicester was clearly back in the queen’s favor.

Liam was relieved.

Elizabeth greeted him in her withdrawing room, magnificently dressed, two of her ladies in attendance. The ladies were both married noblewomen, nevertheless, they simpered and smiled at Liam, blushing prettily, trying to hold his eye. He ignored their flirtacious efforts and Elizabeth shooed them away, scowling. She closed the door firmly and they were alone.

She smiled at him, but it was restrained. “’Twas most generous of you, Liam, to escort poor Katherine back to Londontown,” she said, withdrawing a sealed letter from her sleeve. “How distraught she must have been after such a fiasco with Hugh Barry.” Her gaze swept over him, more than thoroughly.

He smiled at her briefly, then sobered. “Katherine was not pleased.”

“But she is a strong woman, and much like Joan. Already moving forward, hoping that I will be generously disposed toward her and make her a good marriage.”

Liam tensed. “And will you be generous toward her, Bess?”

Elizabeth held his gaze. “Mayhap. You appear somewhat disturbed by the thought.”

He shrugged, unable to find a retort.

The queen stared. “Is she still unblemished—or have you lived up to your pirate’s reputation?”

“She is yet undamaged, Bess.”

Elizabeth arched her brow. “So your reputation is but a tall tale?”

His smile reappeared. And with it, the faintest of dimples. “The tallest of tales.”

Elizabeth understood. “Rogue!” Elizabeth’s own bantering ceased. “If she is yet a virgin, I imagine ’tis not through lack of effort on your part.”

“Did you not warn me to keep my lust in hand?”

“Yes, I did. But since when do you listen to me, Liam?”

“You are my queen. I am your ever-humble and obedient servant.” He inclined his head.

Elizabeth snorted. “Undoubtedly the girl resisted you, having far more common sense than I had thought her capable of. But then, as her plea did show, she is unusually intelligent. I was quite moved by her eloquence.”

“So you will honor her plea?”

“I have yet to decide what to do with her, but she is not for the likes of you in any case. You cannot have her, Liam.” Elizabeth stared at him unwaveringly.

He regarded her back as steadily. But within his chest, his heart sank. Her jealousy was hardly hidden, and it seethed about her, snakelike and venomous. He would have to find a way to bring Elizabeth to his cause.

“I would never allow a marriage betwixt you, as much for reasons politic as for reasons social. Do you comprehend me?” she said.

Liam chose his words carefully. “I never said I wished to marry the lady in question.”

“And you shall not—nor shall you use her as men are wont to do with unprotected women.” Elizabeth held his eye. “We protect her now. We demand that you cease
your pursuit of her.” Elizabeth paused, and her tone softened. “Perhaps in time I will find some gentleman for her to wed. ’Twill be no easy task in any case, but far harder if she is well used and carries your child.”

“So her plea
was
successful.” He could not keep the anger from his tone.

Elizabeth’s regard was sharp. “I told you, I have not decided what to do with her. Her father was a traitor and a rascal, but I did love Joan FitzGerald dearly. ’Tis because of Joan that I am disposed somewhat favorably toward Katherine—thus I have decided to have Katherine attend me.”

Liam’s eyes widened but he managed to hold in a sigh of relief. “Katherine will not be unhappy. I think court life will suit her for a time.”

“I do agree.” Elizabeth handed him the sealed letter.

Liam did not break the seal. He regarded her, a question in his eyes, as finally they came to the business at hand.

“Another letter of marque.” She smiled. “You shall be most pleased, I am sure.”

“And upon whom does the
Sea Dagger
now prey with the Crown’s approval?”

“You shall pursue any who dare to trade with, or support, in any way or manner, the rebels led by FitzMaurice.”

Liam said nothing. No hint of emotion crossed his face or showed in his cool gray eyes. No sign of agreement—or defiance.

“And you shall prey upon any who dare to support any
others
who rebel against my authority in Ireland,” she said as firmly.

Liam nodded, slipping the letter of marque into a pocket in his cloak. Any others—such as Gerald FitzGerald. So the game has truly begun, he thought. He had made the opening move by abducting Katherine, then followed with a second play by taking her to her father. The queen’s counterpoint was far more precise—and far more challenging.

“Are you not pleased?” she asked, somewhat archly.

“I am very pleased,” he murmured. Indeed, despite the
fact that the odds were against him, and that the stakes were so high, his blood raced with the eagerness and excitement displayed by highly bred horses held in check at the starting line before a championship race. He had decided his course. Not only must he have Katherine as his wife, her father must be restored to his title and lands. So recently, when he had been accused of conspiracy and treason, the charges had been false. Should such an accusation be leveled at him again, they would be valid. He must proceed with care—as all traitors must.

“Good,” Elizabeth said. She plucked his sleeve. “I am trying to think of a suitable manner in which to reward you for all that you have so far done in my behalf,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes. “I depend upon you, Liam. You are my very own golden pirate.”

“I shall be grateful, Bess, for any small reward, or even none.”

“Every man wants some reward. Do not be afraid to come forth with a petition, Liam. I will entertain it gladly.”

Liam bowed his head. When the time came, he would most definitely remind Elizabeth of this moment. “Thank you, Bess.”

“You are welcome.” Elizabeth smiled. “You have permission to leave, Liam.”

He turned to go.

She grabbed his hand. “I look forward to when next we meet,” she said suddenly.

He only hesitated a heartbeat. He squeezed her hand and bent and brushed his mouth to her cheek. “And I.” A moment later he was gone.

Elizabeth stared after him, the royal facade gone. In her eyes were a young girl’s wistful dreams.

“The queen has chosen me to be your servant,” the girl said. She was small and slight and very fair and quite pretty. Her name was Helen.

Katherine was still reeling with shock. The queen had informed her earlier that she was not just to remain at court, but to be one of her privy ladies. Katherine was
more than thrilled. She had not even thought to ask for such an honor—and an honor it was. She had not thought such an honor could be bestowed upon her, an Irish traitor’s daughter. Only yesterday she had been at a loss, with nowhere to go, with no future. Now she had a place to stay, a purpose in staying. It was not marriage, but it was second best, and if the truth be known, Katherine would not mind being one of the queen’s ladies for a good while. How fascinating life at court would be!

“Helen,” Katherine said, facing the petite girl, “perhaps you can start your service to me by having a bath brought up, as I have not had a chance to bathe in days. And I have no clean clothes. Could you find me something to wear while my own things are laundered and dried?” She began to worry about her nonexistent wardrobe. Privy ladies were fabulously dressed. She had naught but a single, torn gown.

“I think so,” Helen said, smiling.

“Good.” Katherine stiffened as Helen turned to go. Liam O’Neill stood watching them in the open doorway of her small room.

Her heart lurched wildly. He hadn’t left yet. She thought of the way he had kissed her yesterday in the queen’s apartments. He had introduced her to desire and it stormed her now, fierce and unyielding. With it came shame.

Oh how well she recalled her own irredeemable behavior. Not only had she encouraged his kiss, and kissed him back as wildly, and she had touched the naked skin of his chest and stomach with appalling boldness. In fact, she dared not imagine what would have happened had Liam not regained his senses and recalled that they were in the queen’s chamber! She bit her lip, wishing somewhat desperately that he would go away—but hardly meaning it.

Liam stared at her, grave and unsmiling. He did not look even once at Helen, who scurried away. “I have come to say fare-thee-well.”

Katherine turned her back on him, her thoughts muddled, already breathless. She reminded herself that he was a pirate, a pardoned pirate but a pirate nonetheless, and that she had no business enjoying his kisses or desiring
him at all. None. Not unless she became his wife—which was out of the question. “I thought you already gone,” she managed to sound callous.

“Can you not show that you care, even if only a little?” Liam asked sharply.

Katherine did not turn to face him, and she refused to answer—telling herself that she did not care. A silence filled the room. Katherine strained to hear what he was doing, if he moved, recalling his marriage proposal on the ship. She was mad, surely, even to think of it. Or to have this strange aching inside her breast.

Suddenly his hands settled on her shoulders. “When will you give in to me?” He had come up behind her and she had not even heard him.

Katherine jerked away. “Don’t touch me!”

His eyes glittered. “You are not afraid of me, Katherine. You are afraid of what I do to you—you are afraid of the passion in your own breast—you are afraid of the woman inside yourself.”

She refused to consider his words. “No. I am afraid of you—nothing more.”

He laughed then, amused. “What a liar you have become. You were not afraid of me yesterday in the queen’s bedchamber.”

She turned red. “I lost my mind, obviously.”

“Obviously.” His eyes gleamed. He reached for her again, pulling her to him. Ignoring the stiffening of her body. “But I like your madness, Katherine. Do you not wish to send me off to sea with a proper good-bye?”

Katherine’s pulse raced. He was leaving, and this time it was reality. She was dismayed. It was ridiculous for her to be distressed, but there it was, impossible to deny. What if he died? He lived by the sword. His business was plunder and piracy, murder and mayhem. Oh, God. That she was even thinking of his safety was appalling, and made even worse by the fact that some brazen little witch inside her had given her the idea that another, parting kiss would not really hurt—because he was leaving—and she might never see him again.

And did she not owe him some gratitude for all that he had done so far for her?

“What thoughts speed about in that clever brain of yours?” Liam asked.

Katherine tried to tell herself that she would not kiss him. It was wrong, and that was that. Yet her body began to shake. “Wh-where do you go?”

“I go off to plunder Spaniards,” he said with a slight smile and a spark in his eye. “The queen has given me letters of marque.”

Katherine gasped. Suddenly it all made sense. He was not a pirate but a privateer—with letters of marque from the Crown. “I should have guessed! You could have told me! Knave!”

“And would that have made a difference? I had no letters authorizing me to seize the French trader you sailed upon.” His gray gaze snared hers.

She remembered the smell of gunpowder and smoke, the broken and charred deck, the wounded men, and she shivered. “No.”

He touched her chin with one strong forefinger. “You seem sad, Katherine. Sad that it does not make a difference. I will never be a fancy courtier, nor will I ever be a nobleman.”

“I am well aware of that,” she said. And that was why she would not marry him. That was why she could not ever marry him.

“You are so green,” he said roughly. “Katherine—beware of all that goes on here. Beware of the intrigue, petty and otherwise. Do not trust anyone. Beware of men like Leicester—and mostly, beware of him.”

Katherine stared into Liam’s dark, flashing eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

He laughed then. “Yes, you can, and ’tis most extraordinary.” He sobered. “Leicester will try to have your skirts up before the week is out.”

She started.

“I will kill him if he takes what is mine,” Liam told her.

Katherine gasped and tried to pull away from him but
his grip tightened on both of her shoulders, his eyes smoldering. He shook her once. “You can deny it all you want, but
you are mine
. Call it passion, call it obsession, call it whatever pleases you, but you run hot and wild in my blood, Katherine—I cannot give you up.”

She shook her head, her fingers fisted in his shirt, unable to speak, her heart hammering hard enough to leave her breathless.

He ignored her slight gesture of negation. “Mark my words. When the time is ripe, I will return for you, Katherine. This I vow.”

She found her tongue. “No.” She struggled against him. “You arrogant jackanapes!” But a secret part of herself was thrilled—to be wanted so fiercely by this man.

He made a deep, raw sound and swept her up against his hard, aroused body. Instantly Katherine went still, agonizingly aware of his massive manhood.

“Better,” he said, eyeing her trembling lips. “Much, much better.” He touched her cheekbone, pushed back strands of stray hair. Then he bent and, very leisurely, he plied her lips with his.

It could be their last kiss, no matter what he claimed, and Katherine could not forget that. Dear God, she could not resist him now! Liam pushed her against the wall and soon she found herself riding his powerful thigh the way the wanton in her breast yearned to ride him. Katherine dug her nails into his nape as he pushed her square neckline down, uncovering her bare breasts. His hands molded her. Katherine tore her mouth from his, head thrown back, neck arched, moaning with pleasure. Liam cupped her and bent and licked each taut nipple, all the while rocking his thigh against her sex. Every motion brought his pulsing phallus into contact with her throbbing loins. Katherine buried her face against his neck, whimpering. As swiftly as a striking snake, Liam slipped his hand beneath her skirt. He touched her wet, swollen lips through her crotchless linen drawers. Katherine convulsed, moaning. Liam continued to stroke her until she sagged against him, begging, “Don’t! No more!”