All the Sweet Tomorrows

Nicolas had a wonderful surprise for Skye, something that he knew would make her gay and happy once more. Each day he scanned the mouth of Villerose's harbor for the return of Bran Kelly's ship, which, he hoped, would bring Edmond, the Queen of England's blessing on his union with Skye, and the surprise. Three days before Christmas the Seagull sailed back to Beaumont de Jaspre's main harbor.

Nicolas and Skye rode down the hill from the castle and through the town, a small coterie of guards escorting them. It was a perfect Mediterranean day, and she looked so very beautiful in the deep-blue silk riding dress, its sleeves lavishly trimmed in cream-colored lace, which dripped gracefully from just below her elbows, her lower arms being bare. Upon her hands she wore cream doeskin gloves embroidered in tiny freshwater pearls and gold thread. Although the sun was quite bright and it was a warm day, Skye had chosen not to wear any headdress. Instead, her long black hair was bound back only by an embroidered ribbon. She rode a white palfrey with a red leather saddle and a bridle that was hung with tinkling silver bells.

The road wound down from the castle through the pink town with its balconies filled with their profusion of brightly colored blossoms, the millefloral scent perfuming the air around them. Upon some of the balconies hung cages of songbirds trilling happy tunes. It was all so beautiful that Skye wanted to cry. It would be so wonderful to have her children with her. How they would enjoy the days of golden sunshine and warm weather. She sighed, determined not to be sad and spoil Nicolas's mood. He was trying so hard to make her happy, and it was not his fault that he was unable to supply her with the one thing that she needed to complete her happiness. As they passed through the main square of the town the market-day crowds took up the delighted cry, 'Vive le Duc! Vive Madame la Duchesse!' It was impossible not to smile, and wave a hand at these friendly people who were obviously so eager to love them.

Ahead, the street opened into the harbor area. The docks of Beaumont de Jaspre were alive with ships unloading their goods from all over the Mediterranean and northern Europe. She could smell the fragrance of spices, the strong scent of uncured hides and fish all mingling into a smell particular to docks the world over. The vessels were flying flags from virtually every nation: England, Norway, France, Spain, the Ottoman Empire, Sweden, Algiers, Morocco, Portugal, Scotland. There were so many languages being spoken that when she tried to concentrate on one, her head began to spin.

They were able to ride directly to Skye's ship, which had been given a preferred dockage near the open-air harbor market. She could see the O'Malley flag fluttering in the soft afternoon breeze around the ship's mast. On the open main deck she could see some of the crew moving about. They came to a stop before the gangway, and dismounting, Nicolas helped her from her saddle. Bran Kelly appeared from the main cabin, and calling out to him Skye waved. He flashed her a delighted grin and waved back. Skye hurried aboard.

'Have you brought Edmond back?' she demanded.

'Indeed, m'lady, I have, and a surprise from your duc that I hope will please you.' Bran turned to Nicolas. 'Now, sir?'

Nicholas smiled. 'Now,' he said.

'If you will come into the main cabin with me, m'lady,' Bran said politely, and Skye, puzzled, followed as he opened the door and stepped back to allow her through first.

Walking over the threshold, Skye suddenly stopped, and stared hard. Then without warning she burst into tears. Instantly she was surrounded by her children all laughing, shouting, and crying themselves. A small dark- haired little tot peered wide-eyed around Edmond de Beaumont's legs at her, and another, a fat blue-eyed baby boy, gazed seriously at her from his nurse's arms.

'Are you not glad to see us, Mama?' the practical Willow demanded.

Skye O'Malley stared at five of her six children, quite overcome with pure and total joy. She had everything! Speechless for a brief moment, she held out her arms to the children and the three older ones rushed to her, all talking at once. She hugged Murrough. God's nightshirt! He was taller than she was now. How had that happened in only seven months? She kissed Willow, her beautiful and treasured little daughter. Willow's checks were damp, but she smiled a blindingly radiant smile at her mother, and words were not necessary between the two. 'Robin!' She finally found her voice, and gathering Geoffrey Southwood's son into her arms, she hugged him hard. Robin, usually very conscious of his position in life, did not complain, but kissed his mother's cheek enthusiastically.

Skye stepped back and viewed her offspring delightedly. Then, turning, she looked at Nicolas. “Thank you,' she said quietly. He smiled back at her, but said nothing. Words were unnecessary.

'Cherie,' Edmond de Beaumont said, 'here is a little child who would greet you.' Gently he drew Deirdre from her hiding place behind him.

Kneeling, Skye held out her arms to the small girl, a soft smile touching the edges of her lips. Niall's daughter looked so very much like her. Deirdre Burke was indeed her mother in miniature, with her camellia-fair skin, a tumble of dark curls, and her blue-green eyes. Thumb in her rosebud mouth, she eyed Skye suspiciously.

'Silly one!' Willow scolded her baby sister. This is our mama.'

Deirdre looked at Skye, then at Willow who nodded her head vigorously, then at Skye again. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, and, reaching out, Skye pulled her youngest daughter into her arms to kiss her on her fat cheeks. The little girl snuggled into her mother's embrace happily, and Skye almost wept. Deirdre was just two, and in the several months in which she had been separated from her mother, she had forgotten her entirely. She would never remember Niall, her father, and this fact did cause Skye to shed a few sad tears, especially when she looked up and saw her youngest child, Padraic, who was as much his father's image as Deirdre was her own.

'You arc happy now, doucette?' He was standing by her side.

Skye stood up holding Deirdre in her arms. 'I am very happy, Nicolas. How can I thank you?'

Deirdre looked at Nicolas. 'Papa,' she said in a definite voice.

A huge grin spread over Nicolas's face. 'Indeed I shall be,' he said happily, 'if the Queen of England has granted my request. Nephew Edmond? Am I to be a happy bridegroom?'

“Indecd, my enthusiastic uncle, you are. You have England's blessing upon your union.'

'I thought you were already married, Mother.' Murrough stepped protectively to his mother's side.

Deirdre squirmed in her mother's arms, holding out her fat baby hands to Nicolas, who delightedly took her. Deirdre snuggled down into his arms, and coyly repeated, 'Papa.' Her look was one of supreme self-satisfaction, and if her older siblings were slightly embarrassed by her behavior she was not one bit concerned.

Skye hid a smile at the older ones' discomfort. “The duc whom I wed seven months ago, Murrough, died shortly afterward. This gentleman is Nicolas St. Adrian, his heir, and Beaumont's new duc. He will be your stepfather come the spring, when my year of mourning is over.'

Murrough nodded, and then, turning to meet Nicolas's gaze, bowed politely. 'How do you do, my lord?' he said.

'I do very well-Murrough, is it?'

'Yes, my lord. I am Murrough O’Flaherty.'

Skye reached out to draw her other two older children forward. 'Nicolas, this is my son, Robin, the young Earl of Lynmouth, and my oldest daughter, Willow Small.'

'Welcome to Beaumont de Jaspre, children,' Nicolas said.

Willow curtseyed prettily, and Robin bowed gravely.

'Are these all of your children, doucette?' Nicolas asked admiringly.

'No, my eldest is not here. Why did Ewan not come?' she asked Murrough.

'He did not feel it wise to leave Ballyhennessey at this time, Mother.'

'Has there been difficulty?' Skye looked worried, wondering about her oldest child, who would in three months' time be celebrating his fourteenth birthday.

'Not really. The English are most respectful of the Earl of Lynmouth's older brother.' Murrough chuckled and added, 'Although it does infuriate Ewan to have to hide behind Robin's title. Still, Uncle Michael insists he do it. The problem has been with Ewan's neighbors, old Black Hugh Kenneally of Gillydown to be specific. He thought that because Ewan was barely weaned from his mother's teats, as he put it, he might take some of the lands of Ballyhennessey for himself.'