collar?trying to quiet her pounding heart.
“Are you all right, mum?”
She started. “Daisy? You needn’t have waited up for me.”
“And who would help you with your gown, I should like to?know?” Daisy drew the cloak from Skye. “His lordship’s?” Skye?nodded. “Ha, ain’t he the gallant one!”
“Yes. He is,” said Skye, a little regretfully.
Daisy prattled on as she helped her mistress disrobe. “They say?he’s left a trail of broken hearts from here to Devon. Highborn or?low, they all loves the ‘Angel Earl’.” She looked slyly at her mis-?tress’s flushed cheeks. “They say he’s a grand lover, and Lord knows?you have no husband
“Shame, Daisy!” Skye broke away from her reverie long enough?to remember how young her maid was. “You take on London man-?ners and morals too quickly. I think it not wise of you. Beware lest?I send you back to Devon!”
“Oh, mum. I meant no harm! But with him so handsome and ye?so bonny…” she trailed off, her head hanging lower and lower,?with such a woebegone expression that Skye almost laughed. She?sent Daisy off to her bed, cautioning her to think on her sins.
Grateful to be alone, Skye slowly washed her face and hands and?cleaned her teeth. Sliding a simple mauve silk nightgown over her?naked form, she climbed into bed. Dear God, how she had responded?to the Earl’s kisses! And he had known it! She trembled. What kind?of a woman was she to respond so fervently? She began to weep?softly, ashamed of her wantonness, ashamed of her inability to re-?main faithful to the memory of her beloved husband. When at last?she fell asleep, it was an exhausted and restless sleep.
The next day, as Skye sat hollow-eyed, sipping Turkish coffee?in the library with Robert Small, there arrived a messenger in the?green-and-white livery of the Earl of Lynmouth. He flourished a?bow and presented her with an exquisitely carved rectangular ebony?box. The captain raised an inquisitive eyebrow as Skye accepted the?box and lifted the lid. On the red velvet lining lay one perfect carved?ivory rose, its stem and leaves wrought from green gold. Beneath?it was a folded sheet of vellum. It read: “In memory of a perfect evening. Geoffrey.” A pink flush rose in her cheeks, but she said merely, “Convey my deepest thanks to Lord Southwood.” The footman bowed himself from the library.
“So,” remarked the captain, when they were alone again, “the evening went well. I would not have believed it, judging by your woebegone expression, Skye. Perhaps the gift is by way of an apology?”
“You needn’t worry, Robbie.” She handed him the Earl’s note.
Perusing it, he looked back up at her. “Then what is it, lass? Why are you so troubled?”
“Oh, Robbie! He asked if he might kiss me, and-I let him!”
“And you found it distasteful?”
“Nooo,” she wailed. “Oh, Robbie! I liked it, that’s what’s wrong. And worse, I wanted him to make love to me! How could I? Whatkind of wanton am I?”
“Christ’s blessed nightshirt!” roared the little man. He thought a moment, his head in his hands, and then he began. “Listen to me,Skye. I sometimes forget that damned memory of yours still hasgaps in it. Khalid has been dead for two years, and it is time you found yourself another man. You’re not expected to remain true to his memory forever. There is nothing wrong in what you felt. God Almighty, you’re a beautiful young woman, lass, and it’s natural you responded to the Earl. He’s a handsome devil. Try your wings with him if he attracts you. But remember this-he’s a married man. Don’t get hurt.”
“Oh, Robbie, how could you even suggest such a thing? My lord Khalid-“
“Khalid is
“But Robbie, I don’t love Lord Southwood.”
“Lord, lass, I should hope not. He’s married.”
“But I still want him to make love to me.”
He began to laugh. “What you feel for the Earl is desire, lust, passion. Sometimes those feelings go along with love, but more often not. The churches would like us to feel guilty about such emotions, but don’t you do it! Those feelings are human nature. You won’t have them with every man you meet, so don’t fret.” He put a friendly arm about her. “Skye, lass. I know I’m many years older, but if having the protection of marriage and my name would make you feel safe, I’d gladly marry you. I’d ask nothing of you.
It would be in name only.”
She was stunned. “Why, Robbie, how kind you are. You always have been, since our first meeting. What a good man you are!?Thank you, but I must stand on my own two feet. I somehow feel?that Khalid would want me to be strong and independent.”
“Aye, lass. I think he would, but should you ever change your?mind, the offer stands open. Remember that.”
She bent and kissed his cheek. “I do love you, Robbie, but not?the way a woman loves a man. I could not marry you, even for?safety’s sake, but never stop being my friend.”
“I won’t, lass. I won’t,” he said quietly, thinking, I owe Kha-?lid more than I can ever repay, and watching over you is such a?small thing. Lord God, let her find happiness, the fierce man?prayed.
Chapter 15
Ever since Elizabeth Tudor had ascended the throne of?England, the Earl of Lynmouth had held a masqued ball on?Twelfth Night. Not the first year, however, for Queen?Mary had died on the morning of November 17, 1558, and?Twelfth Night had been only seven weeks later. The Court was?still in mourning for her.
This year would be the third time the Earl’s fete would be held,?and invitations were eagerly sought. Skye received her invitation on?the morning of New Year’s Day. Geoffrey Southwood came calling?and planned to deliver it himself. She had not seen him since that?mid-November night, but she had dreamed of his kisses ever since.?She hurried from her own apartments, where she had dressed, to the?second-floor receiving room. Her burgundy velvet gown was offset?by exquisite, delicate ecru lace along the sleeves. The square?neckline was low, and bordered by the same lace. A little above it?dangled a necklace of small rubies and pearls. Her midnight hair was?parted in the center and fell in soft curls, Italian fashion, about her?shoulders. It gave her a charmingly youthful appearance.
“My lord Earl! A happy New Year to you,” she cried gaily,?sweeping into the richly furnished receiving room. Dear Heaven, he?was so incredibly handsome, dressed all in black velvet trimmed?with sable, wearing a great heavy gold pendant about his neck.
“Mistress Goya del Fuentes, a happy year to you also.” His?gleaming green eyes swept over her. Christ’s bones, she was?beautiful! “I have brought you a small gift,” he said.
She colored becomingly. “My lord, it is not necessary, and I have?nothing for you.”
“I will take a kiss, sweetheart, for one of your kisses is worth?more than anything else.”
“Oh!” Before she could protest he swept her masterfully into his?arms, and took possession of her lips. The blood sang, roared, and?pounded in her ears and she matched him kiss for kiss until they?were both breathless. Her breasts began to swell with longing, the?nipples chafing against her silk chemise. His mouth scorched down?the side of her neck to her shoulder, then across the tops of her?breasts, which threatened to burst the confines of the burgundy gown.
“I want to make love to you,” he said softly.
“I know,” she answered breathlessly, “but I need more time. I?have known no man but my late husband, and I am confused. And?afraid.”
“I won’t force you, sweetheart. Rape holds no charm for me.”?He led her to the brocade settle and they sat together. He drew a?small jeweler’s box from his left pocket. “I have been on constant?call to Her Majesty,” he explained. “We kept Christmas at Hampton?Court, but the Queen is now at Whitehall, and I was able to get?away for a while. I have bought these because I thought they matched?your eyes.”
Skye took the proffered box. She opened it without taking her?eyes from him. Inside the box were a pair of round sapphire earrings?that dangled from two tiny gold beads. She lifted one up to the bright?morning sunlight
