Conor

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Conor Page 11

by Ruth Ryan Langan


  She turned away, and the curtain fluttered down to cover the window.

  It occurred to Conor that all the fine clothes in the world couldn't

  change the simple young woman. What beauty Emma possessed

  came from within. She had no need of satin gowns and fancy

  adornments. Nothing could improve upon what nature had already

  given her. She was, in his humble opinion, as perfect as a female

  could be.

  As he slowly circled the gardens with the queen and her retinue of.

  laughing females, his thoughts kept drifting back to Emma. The way

  she had looked asleep in his arms. All soft and dreamy. And the way

  his blood had heated at the sight of her in that state of undress.

  In both instances, he'd reacted in a purely male fashion. Though

  Emma deserved to be shielded from such instincts, there was no

  denying that he was far more attracted to her than he cared to admit.

  "I wish to be amused, Conor." The queen's words brought him out of

  his reverie.

  "Then you have chosen the perfect companion, madam. I'm happy to

  see you in such high spirits."

  "Aye. Though the thoughts shared by Lord Dunstan gave me a most

  unpleasant night. But I've decided to put aside such gloom today. Tell

  me something amusing, Conor."

  "Have I told you about the time my brother and I found a jug of Friar

  Malone's wine beside the altar, and decided to have just a wee taste?"

  "You young devil."

  "Aye. A very foolish young devil. For I paid a dear price for my

  foolishness. I wasn't able to keep any food down for days."

  Conor soon had Elizabeth and her ladies laughing with delight as he

  relayed yet another tale from his misspent youth. And all the while, as

  they hung on his words, he found himself glancing toward the upper

  window of the palace, hoping for one more fleeting glance of a

  certain sweet young colleen.

  Chapter Eight

  "How do you like the wine, my handsome rogue?" Elizabeth lifted

  her goblet aloft, touching it to the one in Conor's hand.

  They had gathered in the great hall before supper. The queen was

  seated on a slightly raised platform, so that the others could see her.

  Conor stood, one step below, while the rest of the guests mingled

  around the room.

  Fires blazed on the hearths at either end of the room, filling the air

  with the cheery scent of woodsmoke. Servants moved among the

  crowd, filling goblets with wine and ale.

  "It is excellent, Majesty. Is it new?"

  "Aye. Several barrels of wine were just unloaded from a boat sent by

  the Archduke Charles. He hopes to win my interest and possibly court

  me."

  "And-'has he won your interest, Majesty?"

  She merely smiled. It pleased her to toss out the names of men who

  wished to pursue her, even though it was widely speculated that the

  queen had no intention of sharing the throne with any man.

  While she flirted with him, Conor tasted the wine again. After the

  tension of the morning, he was feeling extremely mellow. All his

  fears had been for naught. Instead of the ugly scene he'd envisioned,

  he had been delighted to find a benevolent queen rewarding her

  newest lady-in-waiting.

  He glanced around. "The dining hall is more crowded than I've ever

  seen before. Are you planning a special entertainment, madam?"

  Her smile was smug. "Aye. A very special entertainment."

  "What are you celebrating?"

  "The arrival of the Earl of Blystone, for one. He is an old and dear

  friend." She gave a negligent shrug of her shoulders. "But I need no

  reason to celebrate. I merely crave excitement. Life here at court can

  be rather dull. Don't you agree?"

  "I'd hardly call mingling with titled nobles from every corner of

  England dull, Majesty.",

  "But that's only because you haven't grown up with them, Conor. I

  find them to be rather vapid. And so I must devise ways to amuse

  myself."

  "I gather you have no intention of telling me what you're planning for

  tonight's entertainment."

  She sipped her wine. "Quite correct. Why should I tell you and spoil

  the surprise?"

  "Why, indeed, Majesty." He sipped again, enjoying the wine and the

  chorus of voices filling the great hall. Soon enough Elizabeth would

  reveal her secret. Whatever it was, he had no doubt it would be a

  pleasant diversion.

  He found himself thinking about Emma. If she were to learn how he'd

  fretted and worked himself into a frenzy of worry this morning on her

  behalf, she would be amused. It was just as well, he thought, that she

  would never know. At least he'd managed to avoid another storm of

  Elizabeth's wrath.

  "Where have you gone, my handsome rogue?" Elizabeth touched a

  hand to Conor's sleeve before accepting another goblet of

  wine."Forgive me, Majesty. My mind wandered."

  "I should be insulted. I always thought men were incapable of thought

  while in my sparkling presence."

  "That's true." He gave her his most charming smile. "As you well

  know, power and beauty are a potent combination in a woman."

  It was the perfect remark, guaranteed to make Elizabeth smile. "If I

  had to choose but one, Conor, it would be power. Even a commoner

  can be beautiful. But few women in this world ever know true

  power."

  "Beautiful."

  Amena and the others stood around as the servants finished dressing

  Emma.

  "I'll have to take your word for it, since you won't let me see myself in

  the looking glass."

  "You'll see soon enough." Amena waved away one of the servants

  and picked up a comb, turning Emma's hair into a cascade of

  burnished curls. "You missed all the excitement last night," she said

  absently.

  ' 'What excitement?' Emma smoothed down the skirt of her gown and

  cast a quick glance at the toes of her slippers.

  "Conor O'Neil." Amena spoke his name on a sigh, and the other

  women began to nod and giggle. "It seems the queen's sly rogue is

  also an accomplished swordsman."

  "Conor?" Emma's hands went still.

  "Aye. When it looked as though Lord Dunstan would run through the

  second scoundrel, Conor moved so quickly, we saw little more than

  the flash of his blade."

  Another lady-in-waiting interrupted with excitement. "It was the

  most amazing display. One moment Conor's sword was sheathed.

  The next, his blade was at Dunstan's heart, and he had ordered

  Dunstan to yield."

  Amena glanced toward the others. "I would never have believed it,

  had I not seen it with my own eyes." She propelled Emma toward the

  tall, oval looking glass. "There now. What do you think?"

  Emma stared at her reflection without really seeing herself. In her

  mind's eye she was seeing Conor, blade flashing, blue eyes

  challenging. "I think," she muttered, "that we are in for all manner of

  surprises this night."

  Conor heard a growing murmur of voices throughout the hall, and

  found himself wondering what caused it. Beside him the queen broke

  into a wide smile.

  The crowd see
med to press closer, watching the arrival of one who

  was hidden from Conor's view. But from the murmurs, which seemed

  to grow until they filled the room, he surmised that it must be

  someone of great importance.

  Curious, he continued to watch as the crowd began to part.

  Striding toward the queen was no duke or count or bishop. No foreign

  emissary. It was merely Emma. But this was an Emma such as Conor

  could have never imagined. Her gown was a shimmering sparkle of

  white satin, shot with gold and silver threads that caught and reflected

  the light of hundreds of candles blazing in chandeliers overhead.

  Unlike her borrowed gowns, this one fit her slender body perfectly,

  emphasizing her tiny waist and hips. But it was the neckline that

  caught his attention. A neckline so low, it revealed more of her high,

  firm breasts than it covered. Because she owned no jewelry, she wore

  a simple white ribbon tied at her throat. The pure simplicity of it only

  added to her allure. Dainty kid slippers peeked out from the

  lace-edged hem of her gown.

  It was plain that great care had been taken with the lady's toilette. Her

  hair had been pulled back into a mass of curls that spilled over one

  breast.

  She walked toward the queen with eyes downcast, which only added

  to her appeal. Her cheeks bright pink, the only indication of her

  discomfort at the pressure of so much scrutiny.

  She stopped in front of the queen's chair and dropped an awkward

  curtsy. "Majesty, forgive my late arrival. Your seamstresses only now

  finished this, the first of the gowns you commissioned."

  "You are forgiven, Emma Vaughn. I would say the gown was well

  worth waiting for. What say you, Conor?"

  Conor's hand closed on the stem of his goblet until, aware that it

  might snap from the pressure, he forced his fingers to relax their grip.

  He managed a smile, though his throat was as dry as dust. "Very nice

  work, Majesty."

  Emma refused to look at him. It was just as well. He was afraid to

  meet her eyes. Afraid that all he was feeling this moment would be

  revealed in a single look.

  "Judging by the admiration on the faces of the men in the room, and

  the jealousy on their ladies', I'd say this gown is a smashing success.

  Come." Elizabeth rose and swept down the steps of the dais. "You

  will sup at my table, Emma."

  "As you wish, Majesty." Emma followed as the queen led the way

  toward the dining hall.

  When they reached the queen's table, Elizabeth said haughtily,

  "Emma, you will sit beside me, and Conor will sit on my other side."

  Again Emma evaded his glance. Conor stood until the two women

  were seated, then took his place beside the queen.

  Within moments Lord Dunstan approached. ' 'Majesty, I would he

  honored to sit at table with you and this lovely creature."

  "Of course you would, Dunstan." Elizabeth laughed. "As would

  every man in this room. But since you have been so bold, I agree. You

  shall join us, as will my friend James Blystone."

  Flushed with pleasure, the two men took their places on either side of

  Emma. Seeing the look on their faces, Conor gritted his teeth. "I had

  thought you would invite Lord Humphrey to sit with you this night,

  Majesty."

  "Humphrey?" Elizabeth put a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles.

  "A fresh young face like Emma's deserves handsome young men

  beside her, not that old bag of bones."

  But that was exactly what Conor wanted beside Emma. Someone old

  and dull, with failing eyesight. Not a lecher like Dunstan. Nor a

  wealthy widower like James Blystone.

  He tried not to listen as Dunstan began talking about himself in an

  attempt to smooth things over with Emma. But Conor couldn't help

  himself. With every word out of Dunstan's mouth, his own anger

  grew.

  "Every year I give a sumptuous midsummer ball at my estate in

  Surrey." Dunstan's tone was as haughty as the queen's. "Perhaps you

  can attend this year."

  "You'd love it, Emma." Elizabeth's eyes danced with pleasure. "It's a

  costume ball. Oh, I do so love the masque. Last year Dunstan dressed

  as Apollo and I was his Diana."

  "And you were the loveliest lady at the ball, Majesty." Dunstan

  sipped his ale, obviously pleased with himself. Everyone in the room

  was watching the queen's table, and he did so love being the center of

  attention.

  "Last year we stayed over as I recall." Elizabeth signalled for Sterling

  to give the command. At once the servants began circling the tables,

  offering trays of succulent roasted pig, platters of doves and plates of

  salmon.

  "Perhaps Your Majesty will consider staying on for a fortnight or

  more this year."

  Elizabeth gave him a measured look. "Is this becauseyou find my

  company so enchanting, Dunstan? Or could it be because of this

  vision beside me?"

  Dunstan merely smiled and chose his words carefully. "No beauty

  compares with yours, my queen. But I must say the transformation in

  our young Emma leaves me quite breathless."

  Beside her, Conor muttered something under his breath.

  Elizabeth turned. "What was that, Conor?"

  "Nothing, Majesty."

  "I thought I heard you say something about the fires of damnation."

  "Nay, madam. I was merely commenting on fare that brings such

  satisfaction.".

  "Ah. I see." She patted his hand. "Do not fear, my handsome rogue.

  You may be invited to Dunstan's ball as well. That is, if you continue

  to please and amuse me."

  "That gives me great comfort, Majesty." He spoke each word through

  gritted teeth.

  When Elizabeth turned her attention to Emma, Conor pushed aside

  his plate. He had lost his appetite. Instead, he emptied his goblet and

  held it up to a passing servant, who poured more wine from a flask.

  Throughout the interminable meal, he was forced to watch in silence

  while Dunstan and Blystone did their best to impress Emma. And

  every other man in the hall craned his neck to study the stunning

  creature.

  When the meal finally drew to a close, Elizabeth led the way back to

  the great hall. As soon as she arrived, musicians burst into song.

  "Come, Conor. We must dance," she called gaily.

  "Aye, Majesty." With a forced smile he led her to the floor and began

  to move with her through the intricate steps of the dance.

  He was still managing to smile when he glanced up and saw a line

  form in front of Emma. Every gentleman, young and old, seemed

  determined to snag the attention of the fascinating new lady.

  "Look." Elizabeth was clearly enjoying herself. "Our Emma has just

  been transformed into a swan. Isn't she delightful, Conor?"

  "Aye, Majesty. Delightful." His smile faltered, and he had to struggle

  to keep it in place.

  Six dances later, when Elizabeth finally decided to take a seat and

  watch from the sidelines, Emma was still dancing.

  "I believe I'll have some ale."

  At Elizabeth's words, Conor signalled for a servant. He offered a

  goblet to the que
en, and snagged a second for himself, drinking it

  down in several long swallows.

  "Oh, look." Elizabeth pointed, and Conor turned in time to see

  Dunstan pushing his way through the crowd of men toward Emma. "I

  do believe Lord Dunstan is feeling a bit peevish at having been

  ignored so long by our Emma."

  Conor watched as Emma put her hand in Dunstan's and began to

  dance. "Perhaps she is not amused by arrogance."

  The queen gave Conor a sharp look. "If I didn't know better, I'd think

  you were suffering the pangs of jealousy."

  "Jealous? Of a twit like Dunstan?" He felt a swift, unreasonable rush

  of an emotion that had to be anger. "What nonsense."

  "You must admit they make a handsome couple." Elizabeth sipped

  her ale while Conor drained his goblet a second time. The queen put a

  hand on his arm. "Almost as handsome as you and I, my charmer."

  "Aye." He kept his smile on his lips while he signalled for a serving

  wench and helped himself to another goblet of ale.

  "Though I must admit," Elizabeth added dryly, "Dunstan does have a

  look of hunger in his eyes."

  Her remark only added to Conor's misery.

  As soon as the dance ended, the Earl of Blystone, tall, aristocratic,

  bowed before Emma and took her hand in his.

  "Now, this is even better. We'll pit Dunstan and Blystone against one

  another as they vie for the lady's affection." Elizabeth nodded and

  motioned to several ladies-in- waiting who hovered nearby. "Ten

  gold sovereigns that Dunstan will come out the winner."

  There was a flurry of wagering as the others cast their votes.

  "The earl has been a widower now for over a year, Majesty." Amena

  put a hand to her mouth and whispered, "He will not waste any time if

  the lady appeals to him. I'll put my money on him."

  "Aye," said another lady-in-waiting, "but Lord Dunstan has a

  reputation for moving quickly, once a female catches his eye. I cast

  my gold, with the queen, on Dunstan."

  Elizabeth turned to Conor, who had remained ominously silent.

  "What say you? Who will win the right to see the lady to her room

 

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