jerkin over an open-necked white silk shirt. Watching them as they entered the hall, his green eyes never betrayed a thought although his mind was full of them. The dwarf was the nephew. What a pity, for he was certainly well favored despite his height. Nicolas wondered if Edmond de Beaumont resented him, but that he would soon know. They had reached him now, and the duchesse-was she real?!-curtseyed gracefully.
'Welcome to Beaumont de Jaspre, M'sieur le Baron,' Skye said in her musical voice. 'We are most grateful that you have come.'
Reaching out his hand, he raised her up, and their eyes met for the first time. Her blue-green ones widened just slightly, and he knew that she was feeling the same thing that he was. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful woman than this ravishing creature who now stood before him. In an instant he knew that he wanted her, and knew that she wanted him, too. 'Madame,' he said, 'it is I who am grateful to you, for I understand from Pere Michel that it is you who suggested I be made my half-brother's heir, despite my unfortunate lack of the Beaumont name.'
“'That oversight was hardly your fault, M'sieur le Baron,' she answered him. 'Now may I present to you your nephew, Edmond, who is known as the Petit Sieur de Beaumont.'
Edmond bowed smartly. 'If Skye is glad you are here,
'You do not wish to be Duc de Beaumont de Jaspre, Edmond?' Nicolas St. Adrian looked closely at the tiny man.
'No, I most certainly do not!' Edmond was most emphatic. 'Look at me, Uncle. I am a dwarf, an accident of nature. Even if there were a girl who would wed with me, what guarantee do I have of producing normal children? Never in the history of this family has there been a dwarf, but I have learned that in my Castilian mother's family there were several over the years. I cannot marry, and therefore cannot produce another generation for Beaumont de Jaspre. You, however, can, and from what I see, Uncle, you will have no lack of applicants for your hand!'
Nicolas St. Adrian laughed. He had never found a woman whom he wanted to marry, but perhaps it was his lack of wealth that had prevented him even thinking of such a thing. Now, it occurred to him that he was a very eligible partie!
'You must be tired after your long journey, M'sieur le Baron,' Skye said. 'We were not expecting you so soon, and I fear you will think our hospitality poor, but I must ask you to rest here with some of our good Beaumont wine while I see to your apartments.'
'Stay, and serve my new uncle,' Edmond said. 'I will see to the servants. I know the rooms to prepare.'
'Yes, madame,' Nicolas St. Adrian said. 'I would learn of my half-brother, and this situation with the French. I am, after all, a Frenchman, and I have sworn an oath to serve the king. I can do nothing that would compromise my honor.'
Edmond de Beaumont hid a smile as he left Skye and his new uncle. He was some ten years younger than Nicolas St. Adrian, but in many ways he felt older. How innocent M'sieur le Baron was. Edmond did not believe for one moment that Nicolas was going to give up this magnificence, this title and the wealth involved simply because it might offend the French Charles.
Back in the Great Hall, Skye poured Nicolas a silver goblet of Beaumont's fine rose-colored wine, and handing it to him gestured him to a seat. Taking her own goblet, she sat opposite him and raised the silvery vessel: 'To you, Nicolas St. Adrian. May you be a good duc for Beaumont de Jaspre.'
'I should far rather drink to your marvelous sea-blue eyes, madame,' was the disconcerting reply. His own green eyes raked her boldly.
'You wished to know of your half-brother,' she answered him coolly, but her pulses were racing and her stomach was fluttering wildly. She had not had this sort of a reaction to a man since she was a maid of fifteen and had met Niall Burke for the first time. She must regain control of herself, for she was a respectable married woman and her poor husband lay ill to death within this very castle.
He could see the turmoil within her, although she sought very hard to conceal it. He caught her gaze with his, daring her without words to play the coward and look away. 'Yes,' he answered her. 'Tell me of my brother's illness, madame.'
She blushed charmingly, but to her credit she was brave and did not glance away. 'I am your brother's third wife,' Skye said. 'We were married three months ago, but he suffered an apoplectic fit several weeks afterward, and I was not with child.
“The Dowager Queen Catherine de Medici would like to absorb Beaumont de Jaspre into France. Without a male heir we could lose our independence. Your half-brother prefers that you inherit. If you agree, you will be invested as Duc de Beaumont de Jaspre in St. Paul's Cathedral next week. Understand that my husband's wealth will remain his while he lives, although you will be given a most generous allowance. You must also agree to care for his son, Garnier, and your nephew, Edmond, after Fabron's death.'
'And you, madame? What will happen to you after my brother's death?' His intense gaze caressed her face boldly, causing her to blush again. 'Should I not also take care of you?' The words said one thing, his eyes said another.
Skye drew in a deep breath to clear her head, which was whirling. She didn't know how much longer she could sit quietly speaking with this man. He was having the most devastating effect upon her. She could see the steady beat of a pulse at the base of his throat. She wanted to kiss that pulse, to fondle him, to touch his chestnut-colored hair to see if it was actually as silky as it looked. God's bones, she thought, furious with herself, what in Hell is the matter with me? I am behaving like a bitch in heat!
“There is no need to fret for me, M'sieur le Baron,' she finally managed to say. How calm her voice sounded, she thought, pleased. 'I am a wealthy woman in my own right. When the sad day comes that I am widowed once more, I will return to my own land. My marriage to your brother was a political one. I have left behind small children to whom I long to return, for I miss them greatly.'
Sacre bleu! he thought silently. She is exquisite. That skin is totally flawless. Is it as soft as it appears? Mon Dieu, but I want to kiss that adorable mouth! 'Perhaps, madame, your Queen will contract another political match for you,' he said provocatively.
'God's foot, I hope not!' Skye said with feeling.
He laughed. He couldn't help it, for she was so positive in her feelings. His green eyes had lightened with his amusement, and he asked, “This marriage was not to your liking, madame?'
'For my Queen and your brother it was convenient, M'sieur le Baron. For me it was a necessity, for I am Irish and I needed a favor from Bess Tudor. This marriage was her price, and I willingly paid it.'
'What favor did you need, madame? Was it for a lover perhaps?'
'No, M'sieur le Baron, it was not for a lover. It was for my infant son who with the murder of his father became Lord Burke, and the possessor of great land holdings. Without the Queen's protection his holdings would have been gobbled up by others.'' How dare he presume I would plead for a lover? Skye fumed silently.
'Did you love your late husband?'
'Yes, M'sieur le Baron, I did.' Her voice was sharp.
He leaned over, and taking her hand in his kissed it, his eyes all the while never leaving hers. 'I apologize, madame,' he said, 'for my rudeness.' He did not let go of her hand.
Dear God, Skye thought, as pure desire coursed through her veins, I want this man, and I don't even know him! She rose to her feet, hoping that her shaking legs would not betray her. 'I cannot imagine what is keeping Edmond,' she said. 'I had best go and see to your quarters myself, M'sieur le Baron.'
He rose too, thinking to himself, I must possess her, not just for tonight, but for always! I have found the one woman that I can marry at last, and I shall not let her escape me. 'Thank you, madame,' he answered her gravely.
He was still holding her hand, and it did not appear as if he intended to let it go.
'M'sieur le Baron,' she whispered, tugging to free herself.
'I think, madame, that you will have to call me Nicolas. After all, we are related… by marriage.' He raised her hand to his mouth once more, his lips lingering slightly longer than was respectable before he finally released her.
Skye thought she was going to faint. She could have sworn he nibbled at her knuckles with his teeth. The sexual tension between her and this man was simply incredible, and she was frankly embarrassed. She hurried from the hall, feeling his eyes on her back as she went. Skye remembered the love that she had felt for Niall Burke when
