think what they would about his relationship with the queen. So far,
though he had managed to stay out of her bed, he had her ear. He
hoped it could remain that way.
He was weary of thinking about Elizabeth and struggling to read her
many moods. Keeping his features carefully composed he turned to
stare into the flames of the fire, and thought about the young woman
in the ill-fitting clothes.Emma Vaughn. Daughter of Daniel Vaughn,
one of the most respected landowners in Ireland before his wife's ill
health had forced him to seek out the healing waters of Spain.
Vaughn's brother was bishop of Claire; his uncle one of Gavin
O'Neil's best friends.
Conor thought again about the shy, demure young woman, unlike the
other ladies-in-waiting who were so bold. There was something about
her. Something almost familiar. As though he'd met her before.
He made up his mind instantly. Surely he owed it to his father's old
friend to take her by the hand and lead her through the perils that
could befall her at court. Especially at the mercy of one like Dunstan.
Dunstan. That animal would leave her honor besmirched and her
dignity in tatters. The thought of thwarting Dunstan was instantly
appealing.
Aye. He would do it. Not just because of Dunstan. And not only
because her pretty little face had caught his eye. Nor because he'd
admired her backside as she'd taken her leave. But because she was a
fellow countryman.
Aware that Elizabeth was a jealous monarch, Conor knew he would
have to be very careful not to incur the queen's wrath. He would keep
his relationship with Emma Vaughn one" of simple friendship. That
would be best, especially in his line of work. Anyone who got too
close stood a good chance of being burned, should the fires of war be
fanned.
Still, it would be good to have someone with whom he could shed"
some pretense. A true Irish lass with whom he could simply relax and
unburden himself.
In this den of vipers, both he and Emma Vaughn had need of at least
one true friend.
Chapter Three
Lord Dunstan has invited you to sup with the queen?" Amena, one of
the queen's favorite ladies-in-waiting, arched a brow in surprise. Then
she studied Emma with a knowing smile. "I must admit I'm more than
a little surprised. He usually prefers..." She shrugged. "No matter. It is
considered quite an honor. What will you wear?"
Emma picked through her meager wardrobe and chose one of her
mother's old gowns, which she had brought along because her own
seemed completely unsuitable. "I thought this would do."
"Hmm." Amena held it up to the girl and clucked her tongue. "It
seems a bit...overlarge. But I suppose I could loan you a sash. And
some decent slippers. I'll send my servant with them."
"Thank you." Emma watched as the older woman took her leave.
Then she began pacing in front of the fireplace.
Lord Dunstan made her uncomfortable. In fact, the very touch of him
made her skin crawl. There was something about his manner. Or
perhaps it was the look in his eyes. Whatever the reason, she
mistrusted the man. But she would do whatever necessary to see this
task to its conclusion, no matter what danger or discomfort it entailed.
With a sigh she slipped out of her gown and into one of her mother's.
Though it was no longer stylish, and far too big for her slender frame,
it gave her a sense of peace to feel the fabric against her skin. She
breathed deeply. She could still smell her mother. The very thought
brought a sting of tears to her eyes.
At a knock on the door she blinked away her melancholy thoughts
and opened the door to accept the sash from Amena's servant.
Minutes later, when Dunstan arrived to escort her, she squared her
shoulders and took a deep breath. I do this for you, Father, she
thought. And for little Sarah.
"Well, Emma." Elizabeth glanced down the table at the young woman
who was seated beside Lord Dunstan. "What do you think about
partaking of such a splendid meal?"
Emma's face turned several shades of pink. She was clearly
uncomfortable at having been singled out by the queen. "It is...as
impressive as the company, Majesty."
"Well said." Elizabeth was enjoying herself away from the pomp that
usually surrounded her at court. Though she reveled in her position as
supreme monarch, there were times when the burden grew heavy. At
such times, she withdrew, with only a few close friends and
confidantes to relieve the tedium of public life.
The queen turned to Conor, who sat at her right side. "Have you met
Emma Vaughn?"
He nodded. "Lord Dunstan introduced us this afternoon."
"Her stepmother, Celestine, is my cousin." Elizabeth pinned the' girl
with a steady look. "How is my cousin?"
Emma chose her words carefully. "She appears healthy, Majesty."
"Aye. Celestine is a very healthy woman." Elizabeth gave a knowing
smile. "With healthy appetites. As many of our young men will attest.
And your father?"
"He is...not so well."
"Then it is fortunate that he has a strong young wife to see to his care.
You have a sister, I believe?"
The young woman's eyes seemed to mist for a moment before she
nodded. "Sarah. She is six years old."
"I am surprised that a woman like Celestine would take on the care of
a child. Your father must be a man of extreme charm and wealth. You
will give Celestine my regards when next you see her."
"Aye, Majesty." Emma stared at her plate.
In an aside, Elizabeth muttered, "I took this young dullard in as a
favor to my cousin, but I feel my generosity has been abused. This
simpleton would better serve me if she were a pot of pretty flowers."
There were snickers from several of those nearby who overheard.
Conor coughed discreetly, hoping to muffle the sound of laughter
from the poor girl's ears. If she knew what had been said about her,
she would be humiliated.
He picked up his wine, determined to distract the queen from any
further thought of insulting the shy young maiden who continued to
hang her head.
"I hear you are recently returned from Ireland, Lord Dunstan."
"Aye." Dunstan rolled his eyes. "And grateful to be back on English
soil. The peasants there live in hovels we wouldn't even use to shelter
our livestock. They breed like field mice, surrounded by their dirty
little offspring."
He glanced around the table, enjoying the laughter from the others.
Conor carefully controlled his temper. "If you feel so strongly about
them, I wonder why you go there."
"As a loyal Englishman, I do it for my queen. Someone must deal
with these savages."Conor's tone was dry. "How lucky for England
that you take such satisfaction in your work."
Dunstan's eyes flashed. "Aye. I do enjoy subduing those filthy
animals. And why not? They plot and scheme against my queen." He
turned to Elizabeth, his voice dripping honey. ' 'Let no man ever
question my love a
nd loyalty to the throne of England."
Touched, Elizabeth squeezed his hand and glanced around the
assembled at table. "Now you see why Lord Dunstan has known
favor with me all these years." She pushed away and the others got to
their feet. "I believe I'm now ready for some entertainment."
She placed her hand on Conor's sleeve and allowed him to lead her to
the ballroom, where the musicians were already assembled.
When the others entered, Conor noticed Emma walking timidly
beside Lord Dunstan. He felt a flash of annoyance, then dismissed it.
After all, the lass could have refused Dunstan's invitation to sup with
the queen. The fact that she was here must mean that she desired the
man's company. Still, she had the appearance of a lamb tossed to the
wolves.
"Will you dance, Majesty?" Conor asked gallantly.
"Aye, my fine rogue. For I'm feeling especially lively tonight."
They began to move through the intricate steps of the dance, while the
others did the same. Across the room, Emma Vaughn was dancing
with Dunstan. The gown she had chosen was pale pink, and was once
again several sizes too large, making it extremely unattractive.
Elizabeth leaned close to whisper in Conor's ear. "Did you see how
lovingly Dunstan leaps to my defense?"
"Aye, Majesty." He couldn't keep his eyes off Emma, awkwardly
attempting to follow Dunstan's lead. Once or twice she actually
stepped on the hem of her gown, nearly tripping both of them.
"I was truly moved by his words."
Conor tore his gaze away and forced his attention back to the queen.
"Words cost little. Majesty."
"You would know that, wouldn't you, my silver-tongued rogue. But
Dunstan's loyalty is unquestioned. It is for that reason that I reward
him with gold and lavish estates."
Conor saw Dunstan lean close to whisper something against Emma's
temple. Saw the girl pull back, as though stung. An icy chill raced
along Conor's spine. The man was known to be coarse and crude.
"And Your Majesty's largesse to Lord Dunstan will no doubt assure
his loyalty through difficult times."
"Do you foresee storms in my future, Conor O'Neil?"
"Nay, madam." He forced himself to smile. "I foresee only blue skies
and gentle weather during Your Majesty's reign."
She returned his smile. "I do believe, Conor O'Neil, that your
presence here is a very good omen."
"I hope you will always think that, Majesty." He tried to keep his
smile in place as he danced her around the room.
When they drew near Dunstan and Emma, Conor maneuvered the
queen close enough that she brushed Dunstan's arm.
Dunstan looked up sharply. Then, spying the queen, he took the bait,
as Conor had known he would. For Dunstan, it seemed the perfect
opportunity to press for a dance with the most powerful woman in the
kingdom, and to rid himself of his awkward companion.
Dunstan bowed smartly. "Would you care to change partners,
Majesty?"
Elizabeth, glowing, gave him the benediction of her smile. "With
pleasure, Lord Dunstan."
The two whirled away, leaving Conor and Emma facing each other.
Conor paused for just a beat, so that the others in the room who might
be watching would think he'd been caught by surprise. It was a
seemingly insignificant victory, but a very sweet one.
He offered his hand. "Will you dance, my lady?"
"I... Yes." Emma placed her hand in his.
Conor felt a jolt as their bodies came together. Though she appeared
even more slender in that ill-fitting gown, the curves brushing against
him were those of a woman. A woman who, for some unknown
reason, had his blood running hot.
For the space of a heartbeat he forgot to move. How odd that this shy,
simple young woman should be the source of such unexpected
feelings.
Knowing they were being observed, he forced himself into action. He
led her in a slow, rhythmic circle. When the step was completed she
turned to face him, and he absorbed another jolt as his lips hovered
just above hers.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Emma?"
"Aye." She lifted her head a fraction, causing her lips to brush his
throat. It was the merest touch of her mouth, and both of them pulled
away instantly. But the damage had already been done. Her face
flamed. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"In truth..." She swallowed, tried again. This flirting business was
something so alien to her, it caused her great distress.^ "In truth, I feel
quite out of my element. Everyone and everything seems so new and
frightening."
Again that voice, low, breathless, as though she had been running
across a meadow. It touched some long forgotten chord in-him. He
had an unreasonable desire to press his mouth to a tangle of hair at her
temple and soothe all her fears.
"Soon enough you will know everyone here, and it will all feel quite
normal." Without realizing it he drew her fractionally closer. His
hand at her waist opened, his fingers splaying across her lower back,
and he marveled at how tiny, how delicate she was.
"And you, Conor O'Neil?" She lifted her head again, this time taking
care to avoid brushing him with her lips, though she found the
thought tempting. "Do you like it here at court?"
"Aye." He felt the whisper of her breath against his cheek and was
suddenly too warm. "I would have to be a fool not to enjoy the luxury
of such a life." Aye. A fool, he thought, as he slowly moved with her
around the dance floor. A fool who could find all his carefully laid
plans crumbling around his feet if he weren't careful.
She sighed. "Your words bring me comfort."
"Truly? How so?"
She gave him a tremulous smile. "If you can feel at home here, then
perhaps, in time, I may do the same. I had feared, because of my
father's name, that I would never feel truly at home anywhere but in
Ireland."
He felt a quickening of his pulse at the mention of that dear land. "So,
though your home is here in England, you still consider yourself
Irish?"
She seemed shocked by his question. "Indeed. Don't you, Conor
O'Neil?"
"Aye." He chuckled. "But 1 thought it might be different for you.
Your father has taken an English wife, and has settled here."
At that, her nostrils flared. Her voice fairly trembled with passion.
"Ireland is still my father's home. And mine, as well. Nothing will
ever change that. Nothing. Least of all my father's new wife."
Conor looked up and realized that the music had ended. The dancers
were laughing and chatting as servants moved among them offering
goblets of ale and wine. The queen,with Lord Dunstan beside her,
was even now bearing down on them.
"Here you are, Conor. I'd feared you had retired to the parlor, to join
the gentlemen in a game of cards."
"And miss the chance to dance with you once more, Majesty?" He
bowed grandly before Emma and lifted her hand to his lips. "I thank
you for allowing me to be your partner, my lady."
She blu
shed, dimpled. "You are most welcome."
In a proprietary manner Dunstan took Emma's hand and turned away.
She had an almost overpowering impulse to shrink from his touch.
But, knowing there were others watching, Emma merely walked
along beside him.
Conor led the queen to the dance floor, where they were soon
laughing and chatting as they moved through the steps of another
dance. And all the while, Conor was aware only of the shy young
woman who was once again moving awkwardly in Dunstan's arms.
What was the matter with him? he wondered. Why was he allowing
this newcomer to cause him to veer from his charted course? But as
the night wore on, he found himself more and more distracted by the
sight of Emma Vaughn in the arms of the lecher, Dunstan.
' 'Another dance, Majesty?' Conor plucked two goblets from the tray
of a passing servant and offered one to the queen.
"No-more, Conor." She took a single sip, then set the goblet aside. "If
I do not soon retire to my bed you will have to carry me."
He shot her a dangerous smile. ' 'A most pleasant chore, madam.-I
would be only too happy to oblige."
Elizabeth blushed like a girl. "You always know just the right thing to
say, don't you?"
"It is why you keep me around."
"Aye. You amuse me, Conor O'Neil. And you also please me. Unlike
so many of my advisors, you are honest. At times, a bit too honest."
He winced. If she but knew. "Can a man ever be too honest,
Majesty?"
She studied him in silence. Then, turning to scan the others in the
room she gave a shrewd smile. "Look at them, Conor. They all wish I
would retire for the night."
He gave a glance around, then turned back to her. ' 'They seem to be
having such a grand time. Why would they wish that?"
"Because their blood grows hot, confined to this room where they
must satisfy themselves with occasional touches while they dance.
You see Lord Humphrey? As soon as they return to their suite of
rooms in the castle, his elderly wife will go to her bed. But he will
spend the night in the bed of my lady-in-waiting, Amena." Seeing
Conor Page 4
