The Hawk and the Dove

by Virginia Henley

  “I shall come … when I come,” she answered elusively.

  He hovered on the brink of violence. She exulted that she could play him like a trout on a line. “You mean when the whim takes you?” She smiled irresistibly. “Precisely!”

  She spent the morning carefully putting away the queen’s discarded clothes and jewels as she did every morning after the important robing ceremony. Her own dresses, though pretty in color, were woefully lacking in rich ornamentation, and so few in number as to cause comment. Well, as of today all that is at an end, she thought as she aired the sumptuous gowns before putting them away in the wardrobe.

  She rushed off to meet Penelope Rich and arrived at Essex House early in time to watch Penelope at her elegant toilette. Sabre’s color was high and her eyes sparkled like emeralds.

  “Sabre, you look as if you are in love,” declared Penelope. “Are those stars in your eyes for my brother Robin?”

  “No,” answered Sabre honestly. “I told Hawkhurst I’d become his mistress. I want you to take me to your dressmaker, Penelope; you have the most glorious clothes in London. I declare I’m dressed like a beggar maid. I need so many things, I don’t know where to begin. The season is begun and I don’t intend to be seen in the same thing twice. I have a fantastic idea for my costume for the queen’s birthday masquerade, and oh, I need riding dresses, everything!”

  “Will he pay?” asked Penelope.

  Sabre looked at her and smiled. “There are many things about Lord Devonport that I don’t yet know, Penelope, but of one thing I’m very certain—he will pay and pay and pay!”

  “Oh, dear,” said Penelope, realizing this put an end to her brother’s plans regarding the fortune-telling.

  “What is it?” asked Sabre.

  “Robin had concocted a plan for me to deliver you to his arms this afternoon. He was to be the fortune-teller.”

  They laughed unabashedly at Essex’s plight. “Let’s go to the dressmaker’s instead. If Robin looks into his crystal ball he should be able to divine all,” said Sabre, laughing.

  Sabre didn’t know it, but Essex’s day was already spoiled. Hawk confronted him in the courtyard at Greenwich. “The lady is mine,” he said with satisfaction. “I’ll send a groom for your Arabian tomorrow.”

  “In a pig’s arse! The lady and I have an assignation this very afternoon. Tomorrow you may have my leavings,” he sneered.

  Hawk’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Take that back, m’lord Essex, or be prepared to defend yourself,” he growled.

  “I’ll meet you anywhere you suggest,” he answered, his eyes cold and deadly.

  “Like hell, we’ll settle this now,” snarled Hawkhurst, throwing off his doublet and drawing his narrow sword.

  The clash of steel rang out and the air seemed to hang in stillness, then a crowd gathered in the courtyard. Both were excellent swordsmen, their styles of offense rather than defense identical. Hawk sprang into the attack, forcing Essex to give ground to avoid his whirling, darting blade. Essex parried and thrust quickly, yet very surely. Sweat beaded their faces and stuck their shirts to their backs. Then, only a moment apart, each man nicked his opponent, blood showing crimson on their white shirts. Just at that moment Elizabeth arrived on the scene, returning from her morning walk.

  “God’s death, stop that this instant!” She was enraged. She loathed quarrels and forbade dueling. “I am sick unto death of young men’s tantrums! Devereux, Hawkhurst,” she said, deliberately denying them their titles, “I shall deal with this in private. Get you to the throne room.”

  The two men waited stiffly inside the throne room as the queen decided to let them cool their heels. After half an hour their eyes met; then, as the long minutes ticked by, the earl of Essex, more used to the queen’s wrath, said, “We’d do well to concoct a tale that will hold water.”

  “Meaning?” demanded Hawk.

  “If she suspects our quarrel was over a woman, God help us. Her fury knows no bounds.”

  “Then we must say the quarrel was over her,” decided Hawkhurst.

  The inner door opened and the queen swept in. She sat upon the throne and the two men had no choice but to kneel before her. Suddenly there was a tap upon the door and a lady of the privy chamber entered and said, “Your Majesty—” The queen instantly took off her shoe and threw it across the room toward the unfortunate woman’s head. “Get out!” she screamed. The two men were left in no doubt about their sovereign’s mood. She glared at them. “Men of blood live out only half their lives!”

  “Your Majesty, I beg you forgive me for drawing my sword near your most precious person,” said Essex.

  “I humbly apologize, Your Grace,” murmured Hawkhurst.

  “A fig on your apologies! I will have the cause for this insolent brawl.”

  The earl of Essex had a facile tongue. “We both picked the same jewel for Your Majesty’s birthday.”

  Her eyebrows went up and her look of displeasure almost disappeared. Hawkhurst, damned if he would let Essex best him, said, “A large black pearl on a diamond chain. But I withdraw from the competition and concede victory to m’lord Essex. He may gift you with the pearl.”

  She eyed both men, wondering if they had conspired, but knew it was to her advantage to forgive them. “Never quarrel again in my presence or you will find yourselves forbidden court. You may leave.”

  Outside the throne room Essex, his good humor restored, said, “Where the hell am I to get a black pearl on a diamond chain?”

  “It just so happens I have one for sale,” said Hawk, laughing.

  “I thought you might have, you bastard,” Essex replied, enjoying the jest.

  Lord Devonport faithfully attended the dancing each night in the council with its adjacent music gallery. This did not interfere with his other nocturnal activities. He planned them for well past midnight after the queen and her court retired to their beds. Of late, he suspected that he was being followed. By so-called friend or foe he knew not, but he determined that next time he would find out. He needed no more rumors that the Black Shadow had been seen again.

  On the second night of dancing he thought he’d been patient long enough with Sabre. She let him find a secluded alcove for them, where she allowed him all the kisses he hungered for. He fondled her shamelessly until she was limp with desire and his own nerve endings screamed for the release his body demanded, yet still she eluded him. She gave vague and elusive answers when pressed to come to Thames View.

  The third night was a repeat of the second. He was like a man starving and kissed her so passionately that she eventually fainted in his arms.

  The fourth night saw an end to his patience. He had had enough dalliance in corners. He led Sabre out in the first dance. He said only one word to her. “Tonight!” It was not a question, it was an order. She tossed her head and went off merrily with a new partner. After a few more dances he led her out again. “Midnight sharp! In the courtyard.”

  She knew her time for eluding him was finished. He would not allow her to neglect him further. As their dance ended he said lustfully, “You can be thinking of something unique for us to do in bed.” He retired from the dancing and took himself off to play gleek, never glancing her way again.

  A few minutes past midnight Sabre walked through the courtyard in the warm September night. A dark cat slunk across her path and the warm air carried sounds from an occasional vessel still upon the river. Suddenly she saw a dark horse and rider. She was afraid as it headed straight toward her, but as he came alongside and swept out a strong arm to lift her to the saddle, she saw his face. He took her inside his cloak and she was stunned to feel his warm bare flesh. “You have no doublet or shirt,” she breathed.

  “No. I once saw with my own eyes the effect my naked chest had upon you. I needed to see it again.”

  Her arms slid up his hard torso and slipped about his neck. “You are mad!” she whispered.

  “Aye, and you are the cause of my madness.”

  S
he could hardly contain the excitement she felt. It was a special kind of thrill to steal away from the palace at such a late hour when it was expected that all decent people had retired for the night. The risk and danger involved made her heart race and her pulses quicken. If the queen learned of such behavior they would be punished and banned from court.

  He held her against him, then took her mouth in a savagely demanding kiss. He spurred his horse and the three of them sprang forward down the moonlit river road to his own estate. He dismounted and, lifting her from the saddle, carried her into the house and up to the master bedchamber.

  He threw off his cloak to reveal the wide expanse of hard, rippling muscle. His dark mane of hair fell wildly to his shoulders, and his white teeth flashed their wolfish gleam against his deeply tanned face. His black breeches fit his muscular thighs as if they were molded to him. Her pale green eyes played seductively with his body until she saw it harden and swell with his need for her. She was wearing her cream wedding gown with the deeply cut-out décolleté. With one teasing finger he traced the high swell of her breast, then dipped his head to place the tribute of a kiss upon each swell. His lips traveled a fiery path up her throat to her ear, which he touched with the tip of his tongue, then whispered, “Did you think of something novel we could do in bed?”

  “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 hun
grily 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.”