Skye gently disengaged her hand from his. 'You are strong of will, Nicolas. You will not backslide again. Now go home to your wife. After Niall's funeral, I do not want to see you again.'
He nodded and, sending a warning look at Adam, said, 'I will know if you are not good to her, Monseigneur de Marisco.' Then he turned, and was quickly gone from the cabin.
'If you laugh I shall never forgive you!' Skye snapped at Adam, whose whole face was collapsing with mirth.
'I cannot help but wonder what revenge your little French cock would take on me were I to mistreat you.'
'You had no right to tell him that I will marry you,' she said with more spirit than he had seen her show in the last few hours.
'But you are going to marry me, Skye. I have no intention of allowing you to be used by anyone ever again.'
'Even you, Adam?' she asked cruelly.
'Even me, little girl,' he said affably, and Skye found herself totally nonplussed by his attitude.
Niall, Lord Burke, was placed in a wooden coffin, and the coffin put into a marble vault in the chapel of St. Anne in the duchy's cathedral. Pere Henri, now Bishop of Beaumont de Jaspre, blessed the tomb and then said a mass over the remains. He had hoped to comfort Skye, and so that he might not be hurt she told him that he had; but the truth was that she felt empty. Niall was dead, and she was haunted by the thought that it had all been for nothing.
She bid Robbie and Bran Kelly a hasty farewell. 'I can't go back,' she told Robert Small. 'Not yet. I am not ready to face either my family or my children or the Queen. Especially not the Queen, and Lord Burghley. God only knows what plan they have for me this time, Robbie, and I am not strong enough to deal with them.'
'Where will you be?' he questioned her.
'With Adam. He will make no demands on me, Robbie. He is taking me to visit his mother at Archambault in the Loire Valley.'
Robert Small nodded. He had never seen her so low. She would be safe with Adam de Marisco, and for now that was all that mattered. 'Shall I tell the Queen if she asks where you are?'
'Can you deny Elizabeth Tudor, Robbie?'
'Yes,' he said without hesitation, 'I can for you, Skye lass. If asked, I shall say you are in France, but I know not where.'
'Thank you, Robbie,' she replied, hugging him hard.
Nicolas St. Adrian had insisted on outfitting them for their journey. 'You are, whether you remember it or not, the dowager duchesse of this little kingdom of mine,' he told her firmly. 'I would be remiss in my duties to my late brother if I did not see that you had a coach, outriders, and your own saddle horses.'
She thanked him there in the cathedral, where she had been making her good-byes. 'You are generous, Nicolas.'
'You will also find all your clothes packed and stored in the coach,
'You once more have my thanks,' she told him.
He nodded briefly. 'Go with God,
“Thank you, Nicolas,' she said softly, 'and I hope that it is a healthy son your petite duchesse carries.' Then Skye turned away from the young duc and, slipping her arm through Adam's, left the cathedral.
At the foot of the steps was a fine, dark blue traveling coach with the coat of arms of Beaumont de Jaspre emblazoned on its sides. Upon the box sat a coachman and his assistant. There were a dozen armed outriders, four of whom would ride before the coach, four behind, and two on either side. There were two mounted grooms, each leading a pedigreed horse. The coachman's assistant was quickly down to open the door of the vehicle and help Skye into it. The interior was as elegant and as luxurious as the exterior, the walls padded in fine, soft, cream- colored leather, the seats done in pale-blue velvet. The windows, which could be raised or lowered, were Venetian glass edged in bright brass. On each side of the coach were delicate crystal vases filled with fragrant arrangements of dried lavender and lemon thyme, and small, carefully mounted crystal lamps, their gold holders fitted with pure beeswax tapers.
'You will find that the back of the seat facing you pulls down, madame,' the coachman's assistant said. 'Should you need it, there is a lap robe, as well as a basket with fruit, cheese, bread, and wine.'
She nodded her thanks, and the assistant withdrew to climb back onto the box while Adam pulled himself up into the coach. The door securely shut, the vehicle rumbled slowly off across the cathedral square, through the narrow streets, and finally onto the north road that led to France and into the Loire Valley. Skye never looked back. She had done what her instinct had told her to do with Niall's body. He had not been lost to the sea, and in this she had cheated Mannanan MacLir. One day Niall Burke would come home to Ireland and be buried in Irish soil next to his father, where he belonged. She could almost feel the old MacWilliam's approval of her deed.
They rode in silence the entire day, and when evening came the coach stopped at a comfortable-looking inn. Despite the elegance of their equipage, only one room could be given them, for the inn was crowded. Adam offered to sleep in the stables with the outriders, but Skye would not hear of it.
'I think that we can share a bed platonically,' she said, and he nodded.
'I think you only agree to let me in your room so you will have someone to maid you,' he teased her gently. Skye had refused to take a girl from Beaumont to be her servant. She was not so helpless, she had declared, that she could not care for herself the relatively short time of their journey. Once they were at Archambault, Adam's mother would see she had someone to care for her.
They ate a simple country meal of roasted duck, artichokes with olive oil and tarragon vinegar, new bread, a soft cheese, and a bowl of early cherries. The innkeeper served them a smooth, rich Burgundy wine with their meal. Afterward they watched as a troupe of gypsies played and danced in the courtyard for the guests' coins.
When the gypsies had finally disappeared back to their encampment, Adam and Skye climbed the stairs to the inn's second floor where their room was situated. It was a cheerful, airy chamber overlooking the moonlit fields. There was a fireplace in which a small fire burned to ward off the evening's chill, a chair, and a big, comfortable bed with blue and white linen hangings. The bed had been opened by a maid, and beckoned them enticingly. Their coachman had brought Skye a small trunk that he told her contained the things she would need on her journey. 'The Duchesse Madelaine packed them herself for you, madame.'
'You know the duchesse?' Skye queried him, curious.
'Ah, yes, madame. My wife is her tiring woman. We came with her from Monaco.'
'Your mistress knew that I was the last Duchesse of Beaumont?'
'Yes, madame.'
'You will thank her for me when you return to Beaumont de Jaspre. Her kindness is appreciated.'
Skye thought about Nicolas's young wife as she opened the tiny trunk and lifted out a simple white silk nightgown. She was far wiser and more mature than Nicolas suspected. Skye smiled. Nicolas, although he didn't know it, was in very good hands, and Beaumont de Jaspre was going to prosper.
'What are you smiling about, little girl?'
She looked up at him. 'Nothing, Adam. Just a woman's thoughts. Will you unhook my gown?' She felt his big hands gently undoing the fastenings.
“There,' he said when he had finally undone the last of them. Adam hadn't realized the effort it would take on his part not to touch her. Am I a ravening beast, he questioned himself, that I cannot undo her gown for her without wanting to make love to her? Dear God, he loved her so very much! He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. He wanted to drive away all the bad times in her life, and make her remember only the good. Slowly he turned
