rings set with a great flashing round?diamond, a heart-shaped ruby, and a sapphire. On her right hand?was a large, irregularly shaped baroque pearl, and a square-cut em-?erald.
Her eyes were highlighted with just a touch of blue kohl, but her?cheeks were pink with excitement and needed no artifice. Her perfume had been made this past summer from the damask roses at?Wren Court, and sent up to London by Dame Cecily at Christmas.?Her mirror told her she was perfection, and for the first time in?months Skye felt completely confident despite the fact that tonight,?when she arrived at the Earl’s house, she would be entering a new?and alien world.
“Ready, lass?”
She whirled around and, picking up her silver mask, said brightly,?”I’m ready, Robbie.” He carefully draped a sable-lined and -trimmed?long cape about her shoulders, and descending the stairs together?they walked swiftly from the house to the coach. “How silly,” re-?marked Skye, “when I live so nearby to have to take my coach.”
“You could hardly walk. That wouldn’t make a grand entrance?at all, now would it? The beautiful, mysterious, Senora Goya del?Fuentes should make a good first impression. I can guarantee that?within the next half-hour every noble popinjay at Court will be?falling over himself to meet you.”
“Oh, Robbie,” she laughed, “you sound like a suspicious father.”
The coach quickly reached the gates of Lynmouth House and?drove up the drive to the brightly lit palace. Arriving at the front?door Skye became aware, for the first time, of the grandeur of the?building. The dark-red brick palace stood four stories high, towering?over the river and its own beautiful, carefully designed gardens.?Built early in the reign of Henry VIII, it had all the sprawling,?boisterous magnificence of the monarch himself. It was considered?a perfect example of Tudor architecture. Footmen in the azure and?gold colors of the Southwood family ran to open the carriage door?and help the occupants out. Skye took Robbie’s arm and entered the?big marble foyer where a footman hurried forward to take Skye’s?cloak. Several women guests were standing nearby and as her gown?was revealed, they gasped. The corners of her mouth twitched, but?she feigned indifference. Slipping her hand through Robbie’s arm?again, they began to ascend the wide staircase.
“Well done, lass,” he murmured softly, and she winked mis-?chievously at him. They gained the landing and stood in the wide?arch to the ballroom, waiting until the majordomo asked, “Names,?please?”
“Sir Robert Small, and Senora Goya del Fuentes.”
Skye’s dark feathery eyebrows shot up.
“Sir Robert Small, and Senora Goya del Fuentes,” called out the?majordomo, and suddenly the room became quiet and they faced a?sea of upturned faces. Slowly, the two black-clad figures descended?the three wide steps. Geoffrey Southwood, resplendent in white and gold, came forward to take Skye’s hands and kiss them. She felt a? delicious tingle race through her.
“Damme, madam, you outshine every woman here! Good evening, Sir Robert, I see you decided to use your title tonight.”
“I would do honor to your revels, m’lord. I thank you for including?me.”
“May I steal Skye from you, sir?”
“But of course, m’lord. I see de Grenville across the room, and?I’ve been wanting to talk to him.” Robbie bowed and walked away?from them, his carriage erect and proud.
“The dancing won’t begin until the Queen arrives,” he said. “Walk?with me now, and I’ll show you some of my house.”
“But your guests-“
“-are far too busy eating, drinking, and gossiping to notice my?absence. Besides, if another man stares at you, I’m apt to find myself?involved in a duel. Come, madam. I want you to myself.” And?allowing her no further protest, he led her from the ballroom and?through a small door. “The picture gallery,” he announced, “com-?plete with a full complement of Southwood portraits.”
“I would have expected them to hang at your seat in Devon,” she?remarked.
“They do when I’m there. These family paintings have traveled?between London and Devon as often as I have. An eccentricity of?mine.” For a moment they walked in silence, and then they stopped.?He said simply, “Skye.” And there was such longing in his voice?that she thrilled.
Looking shyly up at him, she wondered at the intense passion in?his lime-green eyes. Her palms flattened against his broad chest as?though she would hold him off. “Say nothing, my darling,” he?commanded her, and brushed her lips with his.
“Geoffrey!” she whispered frantically.
His mouth moved gently over her face, down the side of her neck,?across the tops of her breasts. He buried his face in the deep scented?valley and felt her heart jumping erratically beneath his mouth. “Let?me love you, Skye. Dear God, how I ache for wanting you, sweet-?heart.” They stood together like that, the black figure and the gold-?and-white one, not moving.
.There was a discreet scratching at the door, and Southwood in-?stantly stepped back. “Enter!”
The door swung open, “My lord, the Queen’s barge has been?sighted but a few minutes from here,” announced the footman.
“Very good.” The footman discreetly withdrew. “I must go to?welcome Her Majesty. I’ll take you back to Robbie, my darling, and?we’ll talk again later.”
With Robbie on one side of her and Richard de Grenville on the?other, Skye joined the other guests in the garden near the dock,?awaiting the arrival of the Queen.
“Damme, if you’re not a succulent sight,” said de Grenville.
“Thank you, m’lord.”
“Getting mighty close with old Geoff, aren’t you?” remarked de?Grenville. “From the way he behaved at the Rose and Anchor I’d?have thought you’d have not spoken to him again.”
“Geoffrey apologized very prettily for his behavior, m’lord de?Grenville.”
“You know, of course, that he’s married,” de Grenville pressed.
“My lord, what exactly is it you seek to tell me?” Skye asked?firmly.
De Grenville was discomfited. It would hardly be gentlemanly?or sporting to tell her of the wager he and Southwood had entered?into. “I simply do not wish you to be hurt, my dear, and Geoff is?known to be a bit of a rake,” he said innocently.
“You’re most kind, m’lord,” she said coolly.
Trying to regain the lost ground, he changed the subject. “Ah,?Young Bess herself! Look, my dear Skye, the Queen comes.”
They stood looking out over the garden, across the colorful sea?of guests. The Queen’s barge had docked and now the Earl of?Lynmouth was handing his royal guest out. For a brief moment?Elizabeth stood viewing her subjects. Then a small cheer rippled?across the garden. The young Queen was just twenty-seven, and?even from a distance Skye could see that she was lovely. Tall for?a woman and with an angular slenderness, she, like Skye, had chosen?to wear her hair differently than current fashion dictated. Parted in?the center, it fell in long, red-gold waves down her back. It was?dressed with many strings of pearls. The Queen had chosen to rep-?resent “Springtime” and was gowned in apple-green brocade, heavily?encrusted with gold embroidery and diamonds. Her beautyful long?aristocratic fingers sparkled with rings. Her almond-shaped eyes?glittered like the finest jet and her smile was merry.
Lord Southwood led his honored guest through the garden,?through the lines of bowing and curtseying courtiers, and into the?ballroom. The ballroom, like the gallery across the hall, extended?the length of the house. The Queen seated herself on a small throne?set upon a raised dais, and one by one the guests approached her?to present themselves. Southwood stood near her throne.
Escorted by both Robbie and de Grenville, Skye was brought?before the Queen.
“De Grenville, you rogue! ‘Tis good to see you,” smiled Eliza-?beth. “I was not aware you were up from Devon.”
“Just today, Majesty,” said de Grenville, kissing her hand.?”Would I miss Southwood’s fete? And a chance to gaze upon En-?gland’s fairest?”
Elizabeth dimpled prettily. “And who would you present to me,?Dickon?”
“First, Majesty, an old friend and Devon neighbor, Sir Robert?Small, captain of the
