The Hawk and the Dove (17 page)

“Yes … let’s eat in bed. I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starving, but not for food.”

“Please?” she begged prettily.

“Since I’m going to be living here a good deal of the time, let me send for a servant and give the order?”

“At this time of the night?” he asked incredulously.

“You said you wanted to do something different … unique.”

“Are you really that innocent?” He shook his head in wonderment. “God’s truth, you’re not much good to a man yet.”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me.” She thrust out her lower lip and he immediately kissed her pouting mouth.

He waved his hand expansively. “You are mistress here. Do whatever pleases you.”

She rang the bellpull and Shane came up behind her to undo the back of her gown.

“Whatever are you doing?” she cried as he put his hands on her breasts. “The servant will see!”

“Well, he’d better get used to it, don’t you think?” He took the pins from her hair and the heavy silken mass fell over his hands, making him shudder with anticipation.

There was a discreet knock upon the chamber door and she called, “Enter!”

A middle-aged man opened the door and with a studied impassive air asked, “Yes, my lord?”

Shane’s eyes glittered shamelessly. “This is Mistress Sabre Wilde, Mason. She will be spending a great deal of time with us. I believe she wants to practice on you.”

Not by even a raised eyebrow did Mason show any
surprise. The master’s antics had ceased to surprise him long ago.

Sabre gave Shane a scathing look, went over to Mason, held out her hand, and asked, “What’s your first name?”

Now he was surprised. “Why, it’s Charles, my lady.” She knew he was just being polite, but it was the first time anyone had used her correct title and it secretly thrilled her. “Well, Charles, I have a craving for something delicious. What does a Sea God keep in his larder … ambrosia?”

His lips twitched. “No, my lady, but may I suggest blackberries and cream?”

“Oh, yes, please. Two bowls. We’re going to eat them in bed.” She winked at him and he knew at last young Hawkhurst was going to have his hands full with this one.

“By God, you’re a brazen hussy,” Shane teased, finishing the job of removing her gown.

“A moment ago I was an innocent lamb.”

“Mayhap you’re both.” He undid the tapes that held her petticoats and she stepped out of them clad in busk, drawers, and stockings. “My undergarments are very prim for a mistress, my lord, but you will be delighted to learn that I have already ordered dozens of the most scandalous underpinnings you can imagine. My suggestions for their design even shocked Penelope Rich’s modiste.”

“Your prim drawers are adorable.” He kissed her nose, then poured them both a glass of sack, a dry sherry mixed with Barbados sugar and spices. There was another discreet knock upon the door and she looked pleadingly at Shane. He shook his head wickedly. “Ah, no,
you
must face him and get your just desserts.”

She was bold enough to march to the door in her drawers and take the silver tray from Mason. She closed the door with her bottom but Shane took the tray from her in a flash. “First we undress, then we get into bed, then we eat!” He felt a bolt of desire tear into him. “Sweetheart, your mouth was made for kisses, not blackberries and cream.” He pressed his mouth against hers, then let his lips travel the length of her throat. His fingers trailed across the top of her busk, then dipped into the valley between her upthrusting breasts. “Your body holds sweeter fruit I long to devour,” he murmured. “Your breasts are like melons, ripe for the tasting, with hard little fruits at their tip.” He slowly removed the busk, and her breasts spilled out into his strong hands, which caressed and lifted them worshipfully to his mouth for its anointing. “Sabre, you are so beautiful, it’s sinful!” he whispered between kisses.

He slowly pushed her backward into the bed to draw off her stockings. Every inch of silken flesh he exposed received his kiss. He made her feel totally beautiful— from her ankles to her earlobes. Each and every part of her body received his praise, until at last he finally removed her drawers and showered her with love words. He was determined to draw out their hours of intimacy so that each of them would receive the fullest and richest pleasure possible.

He stripped off his breeches and stood before her. With their eyes they began to make love to each other. As his eyes caressed and worshiped her, he was conscious of the blood flowing hot and thick in his veins and of the heavy, sweet ache that had flooded his loins.

In turn she adored him with her eyes. Her glance traveling the full hard length of him, lingering on his mouth,
his shoulders, his hands, his belly, and finally coming to rest on the huge tapered lance that thrust boldly up past his navel.

At this moment she thought him the most magnificent man ever created. No wonder the queen called him her sea god. She could not get over her incredible luck that this devastatingly handsome male was actually her husband. He was a rake, a rogue, and a ravisher, but by heaven and hell, he was all man! She had never felt like this before, never even dreamed that she could feel like this. She couldn’t wait for him to do bad, wicked things to her, and she knew if she glimpsed the dragon, she would fall upon his body and begin to kiss and bite it.

She held out her hands for the tray, and when he handed it to her she placed it between them as a barrier to her lust. She sat cross-legged upon the bed. Her copper tresses fell all about her in disarray and mingled with the copper curls between her legs. He found her wildly beautiful. He lay on his side, head propped on his hand, and watched her, entranced. He groaned as her pink tongue darted out to lick the cream from each blackberry. When she was finished, she began to feed him, and he sucked her fingers erotically each time she brought the fruit to his lips.

He put the tray on the floor. “Come to me, love.” He knelt over her, his face hard with passion, and reached out to caress her aching breasts. At his touch she turned to fire, to molten lava, her bones melted to wax. He buried his face in the hollow between her breasts. Her hands roamed his body, feeling his great strength, the heavy shoulders, the powerful thighs. Her hands could not get enough of him. Her fingers spread through the thick mat of hair covering the solid muscle of his chest. Her fingertips
explored his nipples, then stole upward to encircle his neck.

He crushed her mouth with his and she opened readily, as he had taught her, to receive his kisses and his tongue. She protested as he tore his mouth from hers to travel a downward path to her belly and below. She felt the power in his hands as they tightened around her, his mouth fastened hungrily to her flesh, feasting on her unmatched beauty. His aggressive mouth moved ever lower until his lips journeyed to tease the triangle of copper ringlets. She shocked herself, because she did not want him to stop.

His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, forcing her forward into his kisses. She felt his tongue flit across the swollen bud of her desire, then explore the soft places of her secret part. His fingers spread her open and she thrilled as his tongue thrust into her and plundered unmercifully. She began to thrash and moan as waves of unbelievable pleasure swept through her body, fulfilling her darkest fantasies. She cried out for more and more and more and he gave her all she begged him for. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, then entwined in his dark mane of hair, holding him to the center of her volcanic pleasure that felt as if it were going to erupt with molten fire. She sprawled, writhing wantonly beneath his expert mouth, then his hands smoothed up her body to her breasts to play with and squeeze hard the thrusting pink nipples. She came up from the bed with a jolt, and a scream was torn from her throat as she reached her highest peak and spilled over into a million splintered lights. He licked her once more before removing his tongue, then held her cradled against him to feel every last shudder of her magnificently generous response to him.

She ran her fingers over the scratches her nails had made on his bronzed shoulders. “My little wildcat,” he said hoarsely. She was avidly curious about his body. She could actually see his hardened shaft throbbing with his heartbeat. She reached out her fingers to touch him and was amazed that it felt as solid as marble. Her eyes lifted to his, uncertain for the first time. “You are so enormous,” she breathed, realizing that very soon he would mount and enter her.

He embraced her and promised, “If I hurt too much, I’ll stop, my darling. The first time can be painful, that’s why I loved you the other way first. I’m sure you’re ready for me, my love. Try and relax and take me into you. There’s no hurry, my lovely one,” he said against her lips, and she felt she would surely die from his kisses.

A sharp, imperative rapping came upon the door. Shane knew the urgent summons could not be ignored. He uttered an oath and slipped from the bed to the chamber door. The baron handed him a note which Shane quickly held before the candles to scan its contents. This time the oath he uttered was obscene. He ran his fingers through his dark mane of hair, nodded quietly to the baron, then closed the heavy door. He came back to the bed and took her into his arms. “Sabre, my love, forgive me for what I must do. I wouldn’t leave you at this moment for any reason on earth, except this one. I know I can’t expect you to understand; there are so many things I cannot tell you. Someone’s life is in grave danger.”

“Is it a summons from the queen?” she asked jealously.

“My darling, I swear to you I will never leave our bed to go to that bitch. Try to get some sleep.” He pulled the covers up and tucked her in safely. “I may be gone for days.”

“I have to return to court tomorrow, but I would like to bring some of my things here, if it’s all right.”

“Sabre, darling, this is
our
house now. Come and go as you please.” He bent to kiss her one last time. “I’m a swine to leave you like this, but I swear I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.

She watched him dress all in black. She watched in silence as he armed himself with sword, daggers, and pistols, then covered all with a long black cloak. Already he was totally withdrawn from her. He had a secret life that absorbed and occupied most of his thoughts, and she knew instinctively that when she learned about it, it would give her all the ammunition she would ever need to destroy him. She gave no thought to the danger that lay in wait for him; rather she envied the adventure that he and the baron would ride through the night to enjoy.

Shane Hawkhurst had received a message that the O’Neill was about to be arrested and taken to Dublin Castle for questioning. Both Shane and the baron knew the conditions in Dublin’s Bermingham Tower and they knew of the unauthorized, hideous tortures that went on in its dungeons. Walsingham’s rack and rope were insignificant when compared to the Spanish chair, the scavenger’s daughter, and the iron boots made to hold boiling oil.

Bagenol, the queen’s Irish marshal, would be quite capable of assassinating the O’Neill once he had him behind bars, for he believed if every Irish lord lost his head, Ireland would be tame as a lamb.

Shane believed his father’s only chance was to get to England. If he answered any charges laid against him directly to the queen, he would be able to vindicate himself. O’Neill had such charisma and powers of persuasion, he could charm the ducks off the water. Women were like putty in his hands and the queen was all woman.

Making sure they were not followed this night, they rode north to Liverpool, stopping only at Birmingham to change their horses for fresh ones that Hawk kept posted there for such emergencies. The
Liverpool Lady
took them across the Irish Sea and dropped anchor in the secluded Carlingford Lough near Newry. Shane planted his feet firmly and faced the baron. “I want you to remain aboard. It is too dangerous for you to set foot on Irish soil. The murder warrant on you is still in effect and we both know none of the clans can be trusted. Some would
betray you for the sheer pleasure of the act; most would betray you for profit.”

The baron’s eyes were filled with pain, but after a few minutes he nodded his agreement. He had been steeling himself for the ordeal of returning to the land where the massacre of his whole family had taken place. He had been a chieftain and a rebel, and when they laid down their arms in unconditional surrender to the English, they had been butchered down to the last man, woman, and child, and every building and crop of the villages he ruled had been burned black. He was the only survivor and a murder warrant had been issued because in retaliation he had gutted the English officer who had killed his wife and children.

Accompanied by two stalwart crewmen of the
Liverpool Lady,
Shane rode like the wind for Dungannon Castle. Because he had acted immediately, Shane had arrived in Ireland before Bagenol had received his signed warrant from the crown. The O’Neill needed no prodding to come to London. He was all for storming the queen’s private apartments the moment he arrived there, but Shane’s cooler head finally prevailed on the voyage back across the Irish Sea. It would be prudent for O’Neill to lie low with none knowing of his whereabouts until Shane could sound out the queen to see which way the wind blew.

When Sabre returned to court at dawn the next morning, Kate told her it was official that one week hence they would all be removing to Windsor for the queen’s birthday so she could enjoy some good hunting.

Kate sighed. “There our work shall begin all over again.”

“How many dresses do you suppose the queen owns?” asked Sabre.

“Oh, they number over a thousand. Let’s see, there must be close to three hundred here and three hundred at Windsor. Whitehall, I’d say, houses about two hundred very formal state costumes for the parliaments and such, and then there’s over two hundred at Hampton Court.”

On the spot Sabre decided to double the number of gowns she had ordered from the dressmaker’s. She went into London and bought everything from fans to shoe buckles, from lace neck whisks to wired farthingales. She purchased an abundance of fancy soaps and bath oils, each scented with almonds, or cloves, or attar of roses. She bought cosmetics such as rice powder, rouge, and purpurice to redden her lips.