As his mouth moved over hers, she sighed and gave herself up to the
pleasure that curled along her spine. In truth, it was what she wanted,
as well. Above all else, she wanted this man. And this slow, sensuous
passion that was building a fire deep inside. A fire that was
threatening to become an inferno.
When at last he lifted his head, he took in a deep draught of air. "But
we must beware. By now the queen will havescoured the palace in
search of us. If we value our heads, we must go. Now."
He lifted the reins and the team started with a jolt.
As they headed toward the palace, Emma struggled to ignore the
twinge of guilt over the information she had just given Celestine.
It was true that she loved Conor O'Neil. And wanted him as she had
never wanted any man. But she couldn't put her own pleasure above
that of her father and Sarah. It was for their sake that she had betrayed
Conor's confidence.
But even that knowledge couldn't stop the ache around her heart. For
she knew that the man beside her would never be able to understand,
if he should learn of her betrayal. Nor would he ever be able to
forgive.
Chapter Twelve
"My lord, O'Neil."
At the sound of the servant's voice, Conor looked up from the basin
where he was washing himself.
"Her Majesty bids you to come to her chambers at once."
"Aye. Thank you." With a sigh of resignation he pulled on a clean
tunic and prepared himself for what was to come.
Elizabeth would be peevish. She was, after all, a royal accustomed to
having those around her bowing and scraping, and seeing to her every
whim. She would not lightly forgive the fact that he had deliberately
disobeyed her command to be with her at court.
As he made his way to her chambers, his frown turned into a smile as
he began to warm to the challenge. He would find a way to charm her.
Didn't he always?
"So." The queen was standing in front of a tall looking glass while
several servants finished dressing her for dinner. She peered at
Conor's reflection as he made his way toward her. "My absent rogue
suddenly reappears after keeping himself hidden from my sight the
entire day." She waved the servants away and turned to glower at him
imperiously.
"You were seen leaving the palace grounds in a carriage with Emma
Vaughn. What have you to say for yourself, Conor O'Neil?"
"I must first say that I have never seen you looking lovelier. Majesty."
He bowed and brushed his lips over her hand.
"All those sweet words just fall like pearls from your lips, don't they?
But flattery will not deflect my temper this time."
"Nor should it, madam. You are the Queen of England. Entire nations
bow to your will. I am but a mere man. And a most unworthy one at
that." He knelt at her feet and lowered his head. "It would serve me
right if you should banish me from your sight."
"Aye. Banishment would be a fitting punishment." Elizabeth touched
a hand to his hair. Her touch lingered, and she gave a sigh that seemed
to come from the depths of her soul. "Except that I would be the one
to suffer your absence. Stand, my rogue. I would look into those
laughing blue eyes. For I need you to lift me out of this strange mood
that has befallen me."
He got to his feet and met her look. "And what mood is that,
Majesty?"
"Sadness. A great welling of sadness seems to have taken hold of me.
First my handsome companion seeks the company of a mere slip of a
girl who has neither beauty nor wealth enough to compete with her
queen. And then Dun start and the others urge me to send soldiers to
Ireland to put a stop to this latest insurrection before it gains favor
with the Irish peasants."
To his credit Conor managed to keep his expression bland. But his
spirit plummeted. "To the first I say simply that you need have no
fears. No lady compares with Your Majesty." Not a lie. But definitely
not the truth where he was concerned. That mere slip of a girl had
stolen his heart and was robbing him of his senses. "As to the second,
tell me what you have decided, Madam, now that your advisors have
spoken."
"I am still mulling over all that I have been told. A part of me yearns
for a chance to send a message to Philip of Spain. He thinks to punish
me for spurning his proposal of marriage. And so he meddles in my
problems with Ireland."
"Would Your Majesty allow herself to be dragged into a war by an
unhappy suitor?"
She arched a brow. "However you choose to define it, wars have been
fought for worse reasons, Conor."
"Aye, Majesty. And what of my countrymen? Do you have any
feelings for them?'
' 'Your countrymen are, like the Scots Highlanders, nothing more than
barbarians."
"Perhaps, Majesty, we are all barbarians. If so, we are not worth a
war. What your advisors fail to warn you is that France watches and
waits for a chance to find you distracted, so that she might intervene
in your Scottish problems. Can you afford to divide your energies and
your fortune on two fronts?"
He saw the way her lips pressed together into a hard, tight line and
knew that he'd hit a nerve.
"You see? It is another reason why I must keep you by my side,
Conor O'Neil. You are more worldly, more knowledgeable, than a
score of my advisors put together. I had forgotten that you studied
abroad, and have intimate knowledge of both France and Spain. So.
Tell me. Would you have me reject the advice of my own Council?"
"As queen you must consider what is most important, not only for
yourself, but for your people."
She nodded, thinking aloud. "Will I risk soldiers for the sake of a few
unhappy peasants? Or will I simply wait, andhope that these Ulster
barbarians end up fighting among themselves the way the
Highlanders have?"
She was watching his eyes as she spoke. And, he realized, hoping to
catch some glimmer of his thoughts. But he had managed to suppress
his emotions. Every day he learned to play the game as cunningly as
those who surrounded Elizabeth at court. It wasn't a fact of which he
was proud. In truth it would have shamed him, except for the
knowledge that with every lie, he was keeping his father, his brother,
his people free of English domination for another day.
The queen's butler entered her chambers and stood at attention.
Elizabeth nodded toward Conor. "Come. It is time we joined the
others."
At the entrance to the hall they paused while the queen's butler
announced her to the crowd. Elizabeth swept imperiously into the
room and made her way to the head table.
As Conor took his place beside her he saw Emma making her way
toward them. She was accompanied by the other ladies-in-waiting, as
well as Dunstan and Blystone and the other nobles.
This night Emma wore a gown of buttercup yellow, with lace inserts
at the bodice, sleeves and hem. The neckline was daringly low, like
all the gowns co
mmissioned by the queen.
The moment Emma took her place at table, Elizabeth pinned her with
a look. "Conor tells me you and he went for a carnage ride. Where did
this rogue take you?"
Emma looked with panic at Conor, and was stunned to see him
wearing a lazy smile. A smile? What did that mean? She hoped to
heaven it meant that she should tell the truths For she was simply
incapable of lying to the queen, while all around her were watching
and listening.
' 'He found me grieving over the news that my little sister had fallen
from a pony cart and had broken a leg. Majesty.
Conor insisted that I should see her, in order to calm my fears. And so
he took me to my father's estate outside London."
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "That was a most thoughtful gesture."
"Not nearly thoughtful enough, Majesty, for I caused you
unnecessary concern." Conor managed to look contrite. "I should
have sent word of my intentions through one of your servants. It
would have spared you unnecessary worry."
"Aye. It would indeed." Elizabeth picked up her goblet and sipped the
wine.
Emma did the same.
Dunstan's dark gaze locked on Emma's. "Had you but asked, my dear
lady, I would have been only too happy to drive you to your father's
estate."
"Thank you. Lord Dunstan." Emma gave him a halfhearted smile.
"That is most generous of you."
Not to be outdone, Blystone touched a hand to hers. "Perhaps you
wish to visit again tomorrow, my lady. If so, I would be pleased to
take you in my carriage."
"You are too kind, sir."
Across the table Conor found himself thinking again of the passionate
encounter of a few hours ago. Even from this distance, he could taste
her lips, and feel the press of her body on his. Just thinking about it
brought a rush of heat. He drained his goblet in the hopes of putting
out the fire.
"You're quiet tonight, Conor." Elizabeth leaned close. "Are your
thoughts on a possible war?"
"Aye, Majesty." Making war was the farthest thing from his mind.
But the thought of making love with Emma Vaughn had him
sweating. And wishing with all his might that this interminable
evening would end.
* * *
. "I will leave you now." Elizabeth stood, and the entire assembly got
to their feet.
Instead of asking Conor to accompany her, she turned to Dunstan.
"Come, my friend. Since you have requested a private audience, you
may accompany me to my chambers."
Conor tore his thoughts from Emma. He'd been far too distracted this
night. A dangerous miscalculation. "Perhaps you would like me to
attend you as well, Majesty."
She waved him away. "It isn't necessary. You've had your say. It
seems only fair that I give Lord Dunstan a chance to speak his mind."
As Dunstan brushed past he muttered, "You think you have
persuaded Elizabeth in your favor, don't you, O'Neil?"
"I think the queen is capable of making wise decisions without my
influence, Dunstan."
"So you say." Over his shoulder he whispered fiercely, "Perhaps,
before this night is over, we will see if I still have any influence with
my queen."
Agitated, Conor waited with the others until the queen had exited the
hall, followed by Dunstan and the ladies-in- waiting. Then feigning a
yawn, he casually took his leave, and made his way to his own
chambers. Minutes later, dressed all in black, he slipped out his
balcony and made his way to the queen's chambers.
He had made it a point to go over every room in the palace, Peking
out places where he might conceal himself. With so many soldiers
and attendants surrounding the queen, it was imperative that he learn
as many hiding places as possible.
In a musty storage room he pressed his hand to a panel and watched
as it slipped open soundlessly, revealing a small enclosure just
beyond the queen's sitting chamber. When he had stepped inside, the
panel closed behind him.
He waited a moment to give his eyes time to adjust to the darkness,
then turned toward the door. But before he could pull it open, he
realized he wasn't alone. Someone was beside him in the darkness.
With a muttered oath he pinned the shadowy intruder's arms to
prevent an attack, then clapped a hand over the mouth. It was then
that he recognized Emma.
"Are you mad?" he demanded harshly.
All she could do was shake her head.
"I'm going to let you go," he muttered against her ear. "If you make a
sound, we'll both be discovered. Not a word. Do you understand?"
She nodded.
He released her. But before he could demand an explanation, the
sound of the queen's voice caused both their heads to jerk up.
"...suggesting we go to war at once?"
Conor slipped the door open just a crack, enough to see Dunstan
pacing in front of the fireplace.
"It is our only hope of suppressing these savages, Majesty."
"And what if, as Conor O'Neil suggested, France should decide to use
this opportunity to press the Scots Highlanders into attacking while
our soldiers are occupied on foreign soil?"
"I would expect such a suggestion from O'Neil. He will say whatever
is necessary to keep our soldiers out of his country."
"Aye." Elizabeth's eyes flashed. "I have no illusions about the rogue's
loyalty. But he makes a strong point, Dunstan. Will I be remembered
as the monarch who left her realm helpless in its time of need?"
' 'Are you willing to allow these Ulster chieftains to continue their
quest for arms?"
"They are pitifully few in number, Lord Dunstan. Without the aid of
Spain, they cannot hope to mount a war against England."
"Aye, Majesty. But what if Spain agrees to join them?"
Elizabeth began to pace. At length she turned to him. "My head aches
with so many conflicts demanding my attention. Leave me to my rest,
Dunstan."
"Aye, Majesty."
From his position, Conor watched as Elizabeth offered her hand, then
withdrew to her sleeping chambers, while Dunstan took his leave.
As soon as the room grew quiet, he caught Emma by the arm and
dragged her along the hallway to her chambers. Once inside, he
glanced around and, seeing that they were alone, barred the door.
Emma could read the temper in his eyes and found herself backing
away. With each step she took, he stormed ahead.
"Now you will tell me what you were doing."
She bumped into the wall and froze, then straightened her spine. "The
same, it would appear, that you were doing."
"Spying?" His eyes narrowed.
For the space of a moment the word hung between them. Now that it
had been spoken aloud, Emma realized the enormity of what she had
done. She had been spying on the Queen of England. The penalty for
such a crime would surely be hanging. Or the Tower. Then a second
thought assaulted her. Her mouth rounded in surprise.
"And you were doing the same, Conor O'Neil. Spying on the queen."
In the silence that fol
lowed, those penetrating eyes seemed to be
studying her with calculated interest. And then he said, through
clenched teeth, "Who sent you here, Emma? Who sent you to spy?"
Her chin came up in that infuriating manner. "I didn't admit to being a
spy, any more than you."
"You don't need to." Of course. It made perfect sense now. "I
suddenly realize why you seemed so unsuitable in this role you've
been assigned." He caught her roughly by both shoulders and nearly
shook her in frustration. "Tell me who sent you."
Her heart was pounding so violently, she was certain he could hear it.
But to her credit she held her silence and forced herself to meet his
stormy look without flinching.
"Ah, lass." The hands at her shoulders abruptly softened their grasp.
His tone softened as well. "I should have known. That fierce loyalty
to Ireland. The way your voice sounds whenever you speak of it. And
those connections. Your uncle a bishop. Your great-uncle closely
aligned with my father. Our mission, it would seem, is the same."
"The same?"
He smiled and touched a finger to her lips. "Aye. To spy for Ireland."
Seeing the look in his eyes, Emma averted her gaze. She could tell
him the truth this very moment. Or she could go on with this charade
and allow him to believe that they were allies. The moment stretched
to two, and she knew in her heart that it was already too late. She
couldn't bear to see that look of love turn to one of hate. No matter
what the cost, she would keep her secret to herself.
"Emma. Emma." He framed her face with his hands, and brushed his
mouth over hers. The merest whisper of lips to lips. But it had her
breath backing up in her throat. "Now I know why you've managed to
touch me as no other woman ever has." He gathered her close and
covered her mouth with a searing kiss. Inside her mouth he
whispered, "We're kindred souls, Emma."
The pain around her heart was so great, she feared it might shatter like
glass.
Suddenly, from the hallway came the sound of the queen's imperious
tone. "Emma Vaughn. Awake and open this door at once."
Conor Page 16
