Conor

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Conor Page 12

by Ruth Ryan Langan


  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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