tonight?"
He could feel the effects of the ale, and knew that he was already
drunk. But not drunk enough to forget to smile. Assuming a look of
boredom he shook his head. "I care not wljo accompanies the lady to
her room. As long as I am still permitted to see you to yours, madam."
Elizabeth was so pleased, she actually blushed, while the others
smiled behind their hands.
"Come then, my rogue. Dance with me." Elizabeth offered her hand
and Conor swung her around the dance floor. At one point he actually
lifted her off her feet, and she gave a gasp, before falling into a fit of
laughter.
"Conor O'Neil, I have never known a man quite like you."
"Nor have I ever known another like you, madam."
"We are a pair." She laughed, then pressed a hand to her heaving
bosom. "I do believe I may need another goblet of ale."
"With pleasure." He led her to her chair, then signalled to a passing
servant. And managed to empty two more goblets of ale, while Emma
danced past in the arms of the Earl of Blystone.
Elizabeth gathered her ladies around her. "I must take my leave now.
You are all sworn to discover which lucky gentleman will see our
Emma to her room. On the morrow, you will bring me the news while
I break my fast."
The women giggled and nodded.
"Come, Conor O'Neil. See your queen to her chambers," Elizabeth
called imperiously.
The musicians ceased playing. With bows and curtsies, the crowd fell
silent as the queen and her escort walked from the room. Behind
them, Dunstan scowled.
In the queen's chambers Conor was once more left to cool his heels
while Elizabeth was prepared for her bed. When he was summoned to
her inner chambers, Elizabeth turned to Conor with childish glee.
"You may join me on the morrow, Conor. We will break our fast
together. And learn the name of Emma's suitor."
"Aye, Majesty. It would be my pleasure." He kissed her , hand, then
walked away.
He sauntered along the hallway until he rounded a corner. At once his
smile fled.
The night was still young, but he had no desire to return to the
dancers. The thought of watching Emma Vaughn j make a fool of
herself with those lechers held no appeal for him. Nor did he wish to
join those who were busyplaying cards. A stroll in the garden might
cool his fevered flesh and clear his ale-fogged brain, but he had no
interest in it.
He thought about taking himself off to his room and sleeping, but just
as quickly discarded the idea. What he wanted was the one thing he
couldn't possibly have.
He paused outside Emma's door. And muttered every rich ripe curse
he could remember.
Chapter Nine
"Another dance, Emma?" The Earl of Blystone was having a
marvelous time. And the fact that his old adversary, Lord Dunstan,
was watching from the sidelines with a hideous scowl on his face
only added to his enjoyment. He couldn't imagine why this lovely
little female wasn't betrothed to someone by now. But he was most
grateful for the oversight. ' 'Please. I beg of you, Emma. Just one more
dance."
She shook her head. "No more. My poor head is spinning."
"A glass of wine then?"
Emma laughed. "That would only make it spin faster. If you please, I
must retire to my chambers."
Blystone offered his arm. "Then I shall accompany you."
Dunstan overheard and stepped between them. "If anyone is going to
accompany the lady to her chambers, it should be me."
"You, Dunstan?" Blystone's smile faded. "And why is that?"
"Because..." Dunstan's mind raced. "Because I have known Emma
longer. Why, we're practically family. I've known her stepmother for
years."
"You have?" Emma swiveled her head. "Celestine never told..."
"And I've likewise known her father for many years." Blystone
placed Emma's hand on his sleeve, intending to steer her toward the
door.
She gave him a quick smile. "I didn't know."
"Aye. I bought my last stallion from Daniel Vaughn. You remember,
Dunstan. The one that beat yours in the queen's hurdles last year?"
Dunstan's scowl deepened at the memory. "Aye." He strode along
beside them, and tucked Emma's hand through the crook of his arm.
"Since I'm heading to my chambers now, I'll just walk along with
you."
"That isn't necessary, my friend." Blystone's teeth were clenched
tightly.
"Not at all. I insist." Dunstan patted Emma's hand and forced a smile
as he nodded to the parting crowd.
Outside the great hall the two men continued their attempts to impress
the young woman, who walked between them in silence.
Her thoughts were disquieting. All evening she had waited for one
kind word from Conor O'Neil. But he had been too busy charming the
queen to even look her way. And when he did, all he'd done was
frown.
She had thought, when she'd caught sight of herself in the looking
glass, that Conor would take notice. This had to be what her
stepmother had in mind when she'd sent her here. Though the
neckline of this new gown was rather immodest for her taste,
revealing a bit too much flesh, there was no denying that it was the
most luxurious piece of finery she'd ever owned. The feel of the lush
fabric against her flesh was heavenly. Like the underside of a rose
petal. And, though she'd never spent any time admiring herself in the
past, she had to admit that she'd never looked like this before. Thanks
to the talent of the queen's seamstresses, her waist had never appeared
so small; her bosom and hips so...so round and feminine. She'd
looked more like a woman and less like the Irish lass who still lived
inside her mind.
A woman. Aye. Even Amena had taken great pains to arrange her
curls in the latest fashion, like the other women who surrounded the
queen.
And all to no avail.
Conor O'Neil hadn't even seen her. He had eyes only for the queen.
And why not? How could she ever hope to compete with the Queen
of England?
She felt a welling of shame for her jealousy. If it weren't for the
queen's generosity she wouldn't be here, living this opulent life.
Wearing this fashionable gown. Dancing with titled gentlemen, and
having them vie for the privilege of seeing her to her chambers.
But if the queen had any idea what she was really about...
"Here you are, my lady." Blystone and Dunstan paused outside her
door.
"Perhaps," Blystone cleared his throat. "I could have a maid bring
some wine to your sitting chamber, my lady. We could sit and sip
and...visit a while."
Emma touched a hand to his. "That's most kind, my lord. But I
couldn't drink another drop of spirits."
"Of course you can't." Dunstan refused to be left out. "I could send for
some tea, my lady. I'm told it aids the digestion, and enhances sleep.
Why, I'd even be willing to stay until you're resting comfortably."
"That is so very kind of you, my lord." Em
ma kept her smile in place
while she gave a little sigh. "But I have no need of sleep aids. If I don't
soon retire, I shall fall asleep right here."He stepped closer, keeping a
firm grip on her shoulder. "I can think of no more pleasant thing than
that, my lady."
The touch of him curdled her blood.
Both men reached for the door handle. Blystone got there first and
opened the door. Emma stepped inside, then quickly turned to face
the two men, effectively blocking their entrance.
"I thank you both for your kind attention. You have made this a most
enjoyable evening."
Blystone caught her hand and bowed over it grandly. "It is I who
thank you, my lady. Just being in your company has lifted me from
my sadness of the past year."
"I've heard about your loss, my lord. I know how lonely you must be.
I'm truly sorry."
"You are too kind, my dear."
Not to be outdone, Dunstan caught her hand between both of his and
brought it to his lips. "I would be honored if you would consent to a
walk in the garden on the morrow, my lady. It would greatly ease my
loneliness, as well."
Emma's first inclination was to slap his face. What gall. Did he think
she had forgotten that ugly incident on her first night here in the
palace? Still, she managed to keep her tone even while she withdrew
her hand. "I fear my morning hours have already been filled, my
lord."
' 'Then perhaps another time?'
"Perhaps. Good night." Emma flicked a glance over both men before
closing the door. With a sigh she leaned her forehead against it and
listened to the sound of their retreating footsteps.
When they were gone she turned. And froze.
There was a figure seated across the room, hidden in the shadows.
The figure of a man. Her hand flew to her mouth and a scream leapt to
her throat and seemed to lodge there.
The man stood and started toward her. In that instant she recognized
him and let out a long hiss of breath.
"Conor O'Neil. What are you doing here? You frightened me half to
death." On legs that were still shaking she stepped closer. "Just how
did you get in here without my maid's permission?"
He steadied himself with a hand on the mantel. His mind was reeling.
But it couldn't be caused by the vision of loveliness standing before
him. It had to be the ale he'd drunk. That, and the fact that his anger
had grown with every minute he'd been forced to wait for her,
imagining her in the arms of all those men in the great hall. His
temper and his unsteadiness hadn't been helped by overhearing the
exchange between Emma and her two suitors. Blystone and Dunstan
had been falling all over themselves to win her approval.
"Nola was only too eager to leave when I told her that the stable lad,
Meade, was awaiting her belowstairs with growing impatience."
She stopped in front of him. Studied him. Sniffed the air.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're drunk."
"Not nearly drunk enough." He knew he had no business here,
especially in his condition. But he was beyond caring. He had spent
the past hours watching her flaunt herself in the arms of every man in
the hall. Laughing with them. Flirting with them. Each time, it had
been like an arrow to his heart. Though he hated to admit it, this
infuriating little woman endangered his sanity.
Still, he had a need to justify himself. "I came here to see that you
didn't do something foolish and dangerous."
"I don't need the queen's drunken companion to tell me what to do."
"Don't you?" He shot her a fierce look. "I can see that ale isn't the only
thing that clouds good judgment. Now that you've been transformed
into a butterfly, you think everything changes. Let me remind you,
there are even more predators out there now, my lady. If you aren't
careful, I may have to protect your virtue...again."
At that her temper rose another notch. He had no right to remind her
about that scene with Dunstan. It was callous and cruel. And besides,
he had merely stumbled upon them. It wasn't as though he had
actually been her protector. "How very thoughtful of you, Conor
O'Neil. But as you can see, your help is not needed."
"Is that so? From the false flattery I overheard outside your door,
you've managed to turn more than a few heads, my lady."
"False flattery indeed. It would appear that there are some at Court
who still know how to behave as gentlemen."
"Gentlemen?" He gave a sneer. "How quickly you forget how such
gentlemen treat their ladies."
She felt the quick flash of anger, and the sting of shame. "I forget
nothing, Conor O'Neil."
"So you say. But I distinctly heard Dunstan's voice outside the door.
And I heard you teasing him."
"I wasn't teasing him. I was refusing his invitation with as much care
as I could manage. If you'll recall, it was you who told me, in the
queen's own garden, that I should take care not to offend Dunstan."
He was too angry to see the truth in her statement. "But I didn't advise
you to flirt. To lead him on like a...little temptress."
Her temper fled. In its place was pure feminine pride and pleasure. "Is
that how you saw me tonight?"
"Aye." His gaze raked her. "With your bosom bared for all men to
admire. Letting them hold you and dance with you." His voice
lowered. Without even realizing it, he caught her roughly by the
arms. "Gazing up into their eyes. Laughing at their little jokes. It
would take a man with a heart of stone not to be tempted by a vision
such as you."
"A...vision?" She blinked, afraid to believe it yet. "You thought me a
vision, Conor?"
"Yes, damn you." He hadn't meant to touch her. But now that he had,
he couldn't help drawing her closer. Another miscalculation. Up close
she smelled of a summer garden. Sweet. Delicate. With a hint of
wildflowers.
He had a sudden irrational need to press his lips to her hair. "God in
heaven, you're so lovely." He breathed her in, filling his lungs with
her scent. His tone roughened. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you. All
night I watched you in the arms of other men. And I hated them. All
of them."
"You...hated them?" She could barely manage to speak over the
sudden pressure in her throat.
"Aye. I wanted you for myself."
At his unexpected admission, her eyes widened. "You're only saying
that because you're drunk."
"Perhaps. Too drunk to guard my words. But not so drunk I don't
know what I want."
"You want me." She said the words with a trace of awe and wonder.
"You want me."
"Aye." He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his. The kiss
was so hot, so hungry, it rocked her, nearly bringing her to her knees.
She brought her hands to his chest, holding on firmly. But, as he took
the kiss deeper, her fingers curled into the front of his tunic, clinging
to him, drawing him nearer.
All she could do was hold on as the most amazing feelings swept
through her. Delicious tingles o
f fire and ice curled along her spine.
And then a sudden tightening deep inside, as pleasure seeped through
her veins.
"All night T've wanted this. Just this." He nibbled her lips. The words
were spoken against her mouth, then inside her mouth as he changed
the angle and kissed her again,long and slow and deep. "I wanted to
be the one holding you." He brought his hands along her spine and
felt her trembling response. "Moving with you." He backed her up
until she was pressed against the wall. "Watching your eyes as they
looked into mine."
He stared down and saw the smoldering look. A look that told him
she was feeling the same things he was feeling.
"I was jealous." He nibbled his way from the corner of her mouth to
her ear. "Jealous." He spoke the word harshly, with a trace of wonder.
"A new emotion for me. I've never known it before. Nor would I have
believed myself capable of such a thing."
She shivered. He tugged and nibbled on her lobe, sending even more
delicious tremors through her. She gasped and pushed against him,
but that only seemed to inflame him more.
Now that he was holding her, kissing her, he was beyond stopping.
He covered her mouth with his, kissing her until she made a sound
that could have been a whimper or a sigh. It mattered not to him. He
brought his lips to the little hollow of her throat. He drank her in like a
man starved for the taste of her, filling himself with her sweetness.
And still he didn't have enough. He would never have enough.
"Conor. Conor." She was so confused. It was one thing to flirt. To
lead him on, in order to gain information. But now, she was feeling
things that had her trembling with new awareness. She wanted him.
Wanted him so much it frightened her. "Oh, yes. Kiss me again."
From some distant place in his mind he heard the first warning. But
still he resisted as he gave himself up to the passion. ..
He framed her face between his hands and muttered thickly, "I look in
the queen's eyes and see yours, Emma. I make her laugh, and hear
your voice. She squeezes my arm, and I long for your touch. God in
heaven. What's happening to me? I want you, Emma. Only you."
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