nightgown, the two undermaids removed the last of the bride’s clothing, and the nightgown slid down and over her. The Queen’s ladies gasped in shock and envy, for the nightgown clung to Skye as if it had been painted on her. It was made of pure white silk, the bodice forming a deep V, the sleeves wide like butterfly wings, the skirt a mass of tiny pleats.
“God’s blood!” Lettice Knollys voiced all their thoughts. “That gown will not be long on you, my dear Skye.”
“But will he leave it in one piece?” murmured one woman. The rest of the ladies giggled.
Skye blushed and then laughed nervously. “It is said to be a copy of one worn by the Pope’s mistress.”
“Hurry,” called one of the women, “I can hear them coming.” They helped her into bed, plumping the fat lace- edged pillows behind her back and smoothing the down-filled satin coverlet. She felt very foolish, the center of all this attention in what should have been a private moment. She remembered how she and Khalid el Bey had slipped away from their guests on their wedding night to ride down the moonlit beach to the Pearl Kiosk. But she was not in Algeria, she was in England. It was not Khalid el Bey she eagerly awaited, but Geoffrey Southwood.
The door burst open, admitting a laughing crowd of men and women. Geoffrey Southwood was pushed forward. He was barechested, “We’ve half undressed him, madam,” said Lord Dudley with a drunken grin. His arm was around the Queen in a proprietary manner, and Elizabeth was flushed and looking very pretty. “I shall finish the job myself,” said Lord Southwood firmly. “For the Countess and myself, I bid you all a good night.” “Come, everyone,” the Queen called, throwing the newlyweds a sympathetic look. “I have not yet tired of dancing.” The courtiers and servants all filed out and the Earl shut the door behind them and threw the bolt hard. Wordlessly he stripped off the rest of his clothing and blew out the candles. The firelight played on his lean frame and golden hair. He turned and held out a hand to her. “Come to me, Skye.”
She rose from the bed and walked toward him. A slow smile lit his face. He took in the full effect of her gown and the grin grew. The tiny skirt pleats undulated to show her long legs, and when she stood before him he quietly hooked his hands on either side of the neckline and tore the gown away. Laughing, she flung her arms about him. He could feel his passion flame and, taking her face in his hands, he pressed a kiss upon her half-opened lips. “I love you, Skye,” he murmured huskily.
“And I love you, my lord,” she answered, her deep blue eyes shining.
His hands slid slowly from her perfect shoulders down her smooth, long, fair back, until he could cup and gently squeeze each sweetly rounded buttock. “I have missed you so,” he sighed, softly bending his head to capture a taut nipple in his warm mouth. Teasingly his tongue encircled it again and again until he felt her quiver. Sliding to his knees, his mouth moved with maddening slowness downward until at last his probing tongue slipped between the pouting lips of her woman’s center. She whimpered, “Please!” He raised his head and gazed at her. “Please what, Skye?” “Please!” she repeated, and pulling away from him, fled to the bed and flung herself upon it. Laughing softly, he joined her, pinioning her beneath him. “Do you want me, my wanton little wife?” he teased. “No, Skye, don’t turn your head away from me. I want to see your lovely face when I take you. Ah, sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong in wanting this. Tell me, love! Tell me!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she half sobbed, and he filled her full, his own excitement mounting as her beautiful eyes told him all the things she was even now too shy to say aloud. He was incredibly gentle, and this very gentleness roused her wildly. Her passion again acted as a spur to his own desire until it exploded within her as hers exploded.
They lay exhausted and then he pulled her into his arms, caressing her soft hair, her trembling body. “Ah, love,” he murmured low, “now we have officially sealed the bargain we made today before the archbishop. I love you, Skye, and I shall always make you happy. I swear it!”
She turned in his arms so that she faced him, and said quietly, “Your child already grows in my womb.”
“Thank you, my darling,” he answered. Puzzled by his lack of surprise, she realized that he must have guessed her secret. “Geoffrey-you
“I did not know until after I had asked you,” he said quickly. “Robbie told you,” she accused. “Damn him for a meddling old woman!”
“Aye, he told me. I was close to either strangling you, or beating you black and blue. You are the most stubborn, wayward witch I’ve ever met, Skye Southwood! The child you carry is
She was stunned by the intensity of his voice, and unable to find the words of reply. She heard him begin to chuckle softly, and the chuckle grew until the chamber was filled by the sound of his laughter. “So!” he crowed. “I’ve finally rendered you speechless, you overproud, overtalkative Irish wench! Mayhap now you will finally admit to my mastery over you. Surely no one has ever rendered you speechless before now.”
The angry reply died on her lips at the sight of his bright limegreen eyes, which were tender and full with love.
“I have a terrible temper,” she said in a small voice.
“Aye,” he agreed gravely, “you do.”
“I do not like injustice of any kind.”
“Nor do I, my love. Nevertheless, it is not a perfect world we live in, as you well know. And there are no perfect humans living in it, as you also know.”
“I will not be chattel, Geoffrey. I have guided my own destiny too long.”
“Were you so independent with Khalid el Bey, my darling? I cannot imagine the wife of a Moorish gentleman being given such great freedom.”
What a strange conversation to be having on my wedding night, she thought. Here I am lying naked in my second husband’s arms calmly discussing my previous lord! “Khalid,” she said slowly, “respected my intelligence. It was he, along with his secretary, who taught me how to run his business and handle his investments. He used to jest that if anything happened to him I should surprise everyone by being able to take care of his interests.”
Geoffrey Southwood mused on his wife’s words. He had, since meeting Skye, thoroughly investigated the reputation of Khalid el Bey. It had not been easy, for the distance between Algiers and England was great, but his curiosity had been piqued by this man of notorious repute who had taken in and then lost his heart to a nameless lost waif. What he had learned had surprised Geoffrey. Despite his rather unsavory business, Khalid el Bey was considered a gentleman. He was noted for his honesty, his charitable nature, and his charm.
It was this last that gave Geoffrey Southwood the most difficulty. It had never mattered to him whether his woman of the moment had had other men; but Skye was different-and she was his wife. Was she already comparing her two husbands? It fretted him, and unwittingly he crushed her to him.
“Geoffrey!”
His mouth savaged hers, blazing a burning trail down her neck and across her breasts. “Do you compare me to Khalid el Bey, Skye?” he asked fiercely.
She understood instantly. He had never really been secure in a woman’s love. Her heart went out to him. “Oh Geoffrey,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him. “There is
And he did feel very foolish.
“Is this how you would spend our wedding night, my lord?” she asked teasingly. “Now that we have discussed my first husband, shall we speak of the many ladies who have graced your bed, sir?” “Madam,” he growled, trying to gather the remaining shreds of his dignity, and then he heard her muffled giggles. “Oh, witch,” he laughed, “would anyone believe such a conversation between two lovers who are newly married?” Then he covered her face with kisses, and she sighed happily, which only made him laugh again. “I shall not be able to hide my condition much longer, Geoffrey,” she said thoughtfully, “and the Queen has asked that I join her ladies.”
“When is the babe due. my love?”
“In early autumn, after the harvest.”
“Do you feel all right?” he asked anxiously.
“Sometimes in the evenings I feel queasy,” she admitted. “It’s the smell of roasting meat that does it to me, though tonight, thank God, I was not so distressed.”
“I want you in Devon as soon as possible,” he said. “We will hide your condition a month and then you must
