cloak around the young woman. Then, as gently as if he were
handling a newborn, he lifted her in his arms and pulled himself into
the saddle before nudging his mount into a slow, easy walk.
Even that gentle pace caused Emma pain, and she moaned softly.
"Forgive me, Emma." Conor pressed his lips to her cheek as he
cradled her against his chest. Every movement, he knew, was a
source of agony for this sweet young woman.
The queen rode beside him, leading Emma's mount.
The ride, which only that morning had seemed so easy and carefree,
now seemed the longest of their lives. For Emma, each jarring motion
had her setting her teeth against the pain.
For Elizabeth, the hardest part of the journey was watching this
young woman's courage as she was forced to endure her suffering in
silence.
For Conor, the worst was not knowing what had actually happened.
As he rode toward the palace, he pondered the painful end to this
delightful morning. His thoughts were dark and ominous, weighing
him down as he struggled to sort through the events that had led to
this.
Had Emma been struck by accident, the result of a careless hunter? Or
had she taken an arrow that had been shot deliberately? If that were
the case, was Emma the intended victim? Or had the arrow, in fact,
been aimed at the queen?
The closer he came to the palace, the darker Conor's thoughts
became. Just what sort of sinister plot had they stumbled upon? And
what part, if any, did he and Elizabeth and this young innocent play in
it?
"The young lady is in no danger." The queen's own physician had
been summoned to Emma's room, where thearrow had been removed
and her wound carefully bound. "She was indeed fortunate. The
arrow managed to avoid shattering any bones. It pierced only the
fleshy part of her arm. There will be some lingering pain, but the
wound is clean, and the bleeding has been stopped."
"Praise heaven. Do you hear that, Emma?" Elizabeth had insisted
upon remaining, along with the other ladies- in-waiting who had
gathered around the bedside, until the physician could render a
verdict.
The young woman nodded, trying to smile through the haze of
confusion brought on by the opiates that had been administered. But
the attempt only added to her discomfort.
"Now." The queen headed toward the door, trailed by the other
women. "I will speak with the captain of arms about this unfortunate
accident." She turned to Conor who continued to stand beside
Emma's bedside. "Will you join me?"
"Nay, Majesty. With your permission I'll linger awhile and see to
Emma's needs."
"She has maids for that, Conor." Elizabeth saw the darkening of his
eyes and sighed. "Very well. Stay, if you wish. But only for a short
while." She turned to the young woman in the bed. "If you should
desire anything at all, Emma, you need only ask."
"I am most grateful, Majesty."
When the room had emptied of all the clucking, chattering hens,
Emma closed her eyes with a sigh. She heard the sound of a chair
being dragged close to the bed, but it required too much effort to open
her eyes. When she felt her hand engulfed in warmth and strength,
she forced her lids open. Conor was seated beside her, his hand gently
stroking hers. His eyes were so filled with concern, she felt her heart
contract.
"You look as wounded as I feel. Is there something the queen's
physician hasn't told me?"
"Nay, my lady. You'll mend quickly. But it pains me to see you like
this."
"It's my own fault, Conor. I took a foolish risk, attempting to win a
silly race. And this is the price I must pay for my vanity."
His voice roughened with emotion. "This has nothing to do with
vanity. And it wasn't your fault, Emma. You were struck by an
arrow."
"Aye. Pity the poor hunter who will be severely punished for his
error. And all because I gave him no warning that I was approaching
at such breakneck speed."
He shook his head in amazement. ' 'Even now you try to excuse
another's error, and lay the blame on yourself." He lifted her hand to
his lips. "Can I bring you anything to ease your pain?"
"No...pain." Her words had begun to slur as the opiates dragged her
further into a mist. Or was it the touch of his lips that brought this
strange, floating sensation? Why was he here, when he ought to be
attending to the queen? Still, the fact that he was beside her brought
her a measure of comfort. Her lids opened slowly. "Will you...stay?"
"For as long as you wish, Emma."
"I wish... wish..." The words trailed off as she struggled with so many
conflicting feelings. She wanted to stay just like this, with her hand
held firmly in Conor O'Neil's. Wanted to know that when she awoke,
he would still be here, watching out for her. For some unexplained
reason, she felt as she once had in the arms of another. Warm and
safe. She wished...wished... Such strange, unsettling wishes. Surely
they were far beyond her reach.
Her eyes closed. She drifted into sleep.
Conor continued to hold her hand in his. Such a small hand. As
smooth as an infant's. And yet, there was such strength in this tiny
female.
There was nowhere else he wanted to be at this moment, except right
here beside her. Holding her hand. Watching her sleep. And hoping
desperately that this was all some simple accident.
Still, all his instincts led him to believe that this had been something
far more sinister. He couldn't help but feel that he had somehow
stumbled into some dark, evil plot. And this innocent female had
become entangled in the web, as well.
There was a tavern wench in the nearby village of Prestwyck who
often overheard snatches of conversation that had proven valuable in
the past. He thought perhaps he might pay her a quick visit while
Emma slept.
Chapter Six
"Fool!" Celestine rounded on Dunstan as he entered the parlor.
Henry, her brother, paced in front of the hearth, his eyes as hot with
temper as those of his sister. "Whatever were you thinking?"
"That I could do what you don't seem capable of doing. Eliminating
the one who occupies the throne. And laying the blame on the Irish
for good measure."
"And instead you've put my little spy out of commission."
' 'Only temporarily. She merely sustained an arrow to the shoulder."
"You could have killed her."
"It would have been precious little loss. Your stepdaughter is nothing
more than an ineffective, bumbling fool."
Celestine's oath split the air. "Your assassin was no better."
Dunstan's own temper flashed. "I hired no assassin. The arrow was
my own."
Celestine's jaw dropped. "You fired the arrow meant for the queen?"
He nodded, and glanced toward Huntington, who had gone as still
and pale as death. "I trust no one but myself to see to a deed as vital to
our future as this."
"Then you trusted a fool. All you
managed to do was arouse the
queen's suspicion. From now on she'll probably insist upon being
surrounded by a full complement of armed guards."
Dunstan merely smiled. "I've just begun to ply my tricks. By the time
I'm finished, Elizabeth won't trust anyone except me. Even her
precious Conor O'Neil will be treated with disdain. And she'll be
ready to send her own regiment to Ireland to seek vengeance." He
cackled. "And I will be her most trusted companion. And the one who
will finally see to her untimely death."
"Well." Elizabeth slanted a look at Conor as he strolled casually
across the great hall and made his way to her side. "Once again, my
charming rogue, you have made your queen wait. Do you do this
deliberately, to test my pa- tience?"
"Forgive me, Majesty." Conor took the hand she offered and lifted it
to his lips.
When he offered no explanation for his tardiness, she patted the chair
beside hers. "Sit. And tell me why you , have kept me waiting."
"I have no good reason, madam. I was simply careless with my time."
"Beware I do not find you careless with my affection as well, Conor
O'Neil." She indicated Lord Dunstan, seated on her left. "Dunstan
was just telling us about the latest attack by Heaven's Avenger. It
seems he came to the defense of a wench in a nearby village.
Prestwyck, I believe?" She turned to Dunstan, who nodded his assent.
"The wench was being abused by several drunken soldiers."
"Another mysterious warrior?" Conor accepted a goblet of ale from
one of the servants.
"Aye. As he has in the past, he spoke not a word, but left all the
soldiers dead. Their throats slit. When the wench burst into tears, this
avenger dried them with his cloak, then handed her a gold coin and
departed as quickly as he had appeared."
"How romantic," one of the ladies-in-waiting said with a sigh, while
the others nodded.
"Some peasant, out to make a name for himself," Dunstan scoffed. '
'Majesty, do not forget the ill treatment our soldiers received at the
hands of O'Neil's countrymen."
"My countrymen?" Conor arched a brow.
"Aye." Dunstan's voice rose with righteous anger. "Three of them
killed. Six more wounded by swordsmen who attacked them while
they slept."
Conor could feel all his muscles contract as he kept his gaze fastened
on the goblet of ale in his hand. "Where did this occur?"
"In a forest just across the Boyne River. A place your people call
Drogheda, I believe."
Conor was careful to keep all trace of emotion from his tone as he
glanced around the table. "I know the place. Serene countryside. A
swift current runs through the Boyne as it curves through County
Louth."
"Then the scenery is deceptive." Dunstan's voice grew louder. "For
your countrymen can surely not lay claim to serenity. In truth, they
are all troublemakers." He turned to the queen. "I fear, Majesty, that
unless you soon give them a taste of English justice, these peasants
will band together. If that should occur, the rebellion could get out of
control. And England will find itself at war."
Elizabeth remained silent, lost in thought.
Taking advantage of her mood, Dunstan's shrill voice carried the
length of the room, causing heads to turn.
"Your Majesty has seen with her own eyes how persuasive the Irish
peasants can be. There is one of them seated at your right hand at this
very table."
Feeling the stares of the curious, Conor decided to deflect Dunstan's
anger with humor. "Aye. And if this Irish peasant may speak for his
countrymen, may I say that it is an honor to be allowed to sup in such
august company. Most often we are found supping with the sheep and
the swine."
That brought a roar of laughter around the table.
Elizabeth signalled for the meal to begin. As the servants circled the
table, Conor asked, "What did your sergeant at arms have to say about
Emma's unfortunate accident, Majesty?"
"He assured me that if there is even one hunter hidden in the forest,
my soldiers will find him. Thankfully, Dunstan accompanied me to
the stables and suggested that they scour the woods on foot and
horseback in search of the fool who dared encroach on my security."
It occurred to Conor that such an army of men and horses would also
serve to obliterate any tracks left behind by the attacker. "That is
indeed comforting, Majesty."
"Aye." Dunstan leaned close to inject himself into the conversation.
"And if the poacher should turn out to be one of your Irish peasants,
O'Neil, he will surely feel the sting of English anger. For we do not
take lightly our queen's safety. Especially here on her own soil."
Seeing that the queen had sunk into thoughtful silence, her
ladies-in-waiting turned the table talk to gossip about several titled
gentlemen and their mistresses, in order to amuse her.
"Did you hear that the Earl of Grey ton actually commissioned the
same diamond-and-ruby pendant for his mistress that he'd bought
earlier for his wife." Amena glanced toward several of the other
ladies-in-waiting, who nodded and giggled.
"Aye." Dunstan caught the eye of a serving wench and lifted his
goblet for more wine. "When his mistress admired it, he had no
choice but to buy it for her."
Amena's laughter bubbled. "He added ear bobs as well. And when his
wife found out, she removed her pendant and tossed it out of the
carriage into the roadside. The earl sent his servants to comb the area
in hopes of retrieving it. Alas, so far nary a glimmer of rubies or
diamonds has been spotted."
"Serves him right." Dunstan drank deeply, enjoying himself. "Jewels
are wasted on wives. They ought to be showered upon mistresses.
And then only when they have proven themselves to be...deserving of
such treasures."
"You are a wicked soul." Despite her earlier melancholy, Elizabeth
laughed. "Now I know why you aren't wed, Dunstan."
"Not wicked, Majesty." He bowed grandly. "Merely honest. I think
we are of like minds where marriage is concerned."
"Ah. If I were a man..." She sighed, then turned to Conor, who had
remained silent throughout the exchange. "I'd be a rogue like this
one." She patted his hand before scraping back her chair. At once,
everyone got to their feet. "Come. We will take our sweets and spirits
by the fire."
Elizabeth led the way, with the others following.
While a servant moved among them, offering pastries and goblets of
ale, the talk turned to the aging Lord Humphrey, who was absent.
"It's been long known that one of his earlier mistresses gave him an
illness." Dunstan stretched his legs toward the fire. "Now it's
beginning to affect his mind."
Seeing the look of surprise on the queen's face, he couldn't help
boasting. "You didn't know, Majesty?"
"Nay." She glanced at Amena, who had fallen silent. "His servant told
me that he suffered from gout."Dunstan roared with laughter, and the
others soon joined in.
"That may be. But the old man's mind is fading.
If you desire his advice, you had best seek it quickly, for he will soon
be leaving this world."
Conor felt a flash of annoyance. "A pity Lord Humphrey can't be here
to defend his good name."
"Perhaps you'd care to become his defender, O'Neil?" Dunstan
glanced from the queen to the others. "It isn't bad enough the old fool
is dying of the dreaded French disease. Now he is to be protected by
an Irish peasant whose only strength seems to be his ability to lift a
goblet of ale to his lips."
Conor's hand went to the sword at his side. His blood was still hot
from the scene he'd stumbled upon in Prestwyck. A few minutes more
and the poor wench would have been brutalized. Still, no matter how
many times he managed to come to the aid of one such innocent, there
were hundreds of others who had no one to champion their cause.
Dunstan saw the flash of anger in Conor's eyes. "Careful, O'Neil.
Everyone at court is aware that you wear that sword for mere
adornment."
Conor struggled to keep his anger carefully in check. Now was not
the time. But there would come a day when he would exact revenge.
Not just for himself, but for all his countrymen as well.
Dunstan was still laughing when he turned to see the queen'-s
sergeant at arms standing in the doorway. A cluster of soldiers
entered, hauling with them two men in tattered hooded cloaks.
Everyone in the room fell silent.
"Forgive me, Majesty," called her sergeant at arms. "But you asked to
be notified immediately should we find the hunter who fired the
arrow."
"It was one of these?" Elizabeth strode forward.
"Aye, Majesty."
At the sight of the queen the men fell to their knees sobbing.
"Were you not warned that hunting in that forest was forbidden?"
Unable to find their voices, the men shook their heads and continued
to sob.
Elizabeth's voice grew haughty. "It will go much harder on you if you
do not tell the truth. Look at your queen and speak. What were you
doing in the forest?"
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