Chapter 16

Sabre learned that the court had already gone to Whitehall for what was supposed to have been the glittering winter season, but it was fast becoming a nightmare. A pall hung over everything. People went about with long faces, wearing somber clothing, treading on eggs so as not to exacerbate further the queen's temper.

She had more or less ordered home Leicester and her other high-ranking nobles, Fulke-Greville and Blount, and told them to reduce their armies in Holland. Leicester had bluntly refused, telling her it would take at least another six months. Hawkhurst delivered these unwelcome tidings as well as missives from the Dutch envoys begging for more support.

The queen of England was in an unreasonable rage against Walsingham because of the way he had brought Mary, Queen of Scots, to a trial which resulted in her being condemned to death. She was to have her head severed on the block. Elizabeth had wanted Mary removed quietly, not by public execution! Her son James would be the new king of Scots and Walsingham had advised that they liberally bribe him with gold because he feared an invasion from the north.

All the news was bad. King Philip of Spain's Invincible Armada was being finished over this winter and would sail to conquer England in the spring with the greatest number of ships that had ever been assembled.

In an effort to restore pomp and tradition to the opening of Parliament, Elizabeth made Sir Christopher Hat-ton her new lord chancellor and caved in to Essex to restore the sweet smile to his lips, making him earl marshal of England so that he would take precedence over the old lord admiral, newly honored as the earl of Nottingham.

Parliament was opened with the queen arrayed in all her magnificence. First came the barons, earls, and knights of the Garter, then the aging Cecil, followed by his son Robert. Next came the new lord chancellor bearing the seals of England, flanked by two squires, one for the royal scepter, the other carrying the sword of state in a red scabbard studded with golden fleur-de-lis. The pages then trumpeted the arrival of the queen. She had an aura of supreme power and all assembled went down on one knee.

Since the court had become so dull, Sabre and the other ladies amused themselves away from it. At Whitehall at least they were in the center of London and could attend the plays, shop in the exchange and at the stalls in Candlewick Street, visit the goldsmiths in Lombard Street, and attend the horse-trading sessions at Smithfield Square.

The whim took Sabre to ride down to Thames View to spend the night. It had begun to snow, and as she looked down from the panoramic windows of the master bedchamber, she was beginning to think he would not come.

It infuriated her that they never really knew when they could be together, since they always had to snatch time from their other duties. It was a continuous bone of contention between them that he was here one moment and gone the next, so that when they did meet they wasted precious time fighting.

Sometimes she slept alone at Thames View and other times he would arrive in the middle of the night, heavily armed, cloaked in black, looking for all the world like a thief. He would steal into bed, slip his arms about her, and they would make love savagely, as if it were for the last time.

Sabre sighed and had almost turned from the window when she saw a rider. She ran down the stairs to greet him and was surprised to discover the tall figure was Matthew. Her loveliness took his breath away, and he wished with all his heart that she had been waiting to welcome him this cold winter's night.

"Sabre, Lord, it's good to see you!" he said, laughing and hugging her and at the same time transferring cold, wet snow from his clothes to hers. "Have you told him you are Lady Devonport yet?"

"No, which is precisely why he still carries me to bed and treats me like a queen. However, I did tell your mother."

"Georgiana came up to London?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. She walked in on me while I was in a state of undress and naturally assumed I was Shane's bride. I admitted the truth to her and she pledged me that she wouldn't tell Shane."

"Did you like each other?" Matthew asked frankly.

"Yes, thank God. Can you imagine what it must be like to have your mother-in-law for an enemy?"

They sat in front of a warm fire and Sabre poured them goblets of warm, mulled cider. "This will remind you of home. What have you been up to?"

"Curious, really. I've just brought two shiploads of marble from the Isle of Purbeck. It must be for a customer who's doing some fancy rebuilding, and yet Hawk told me to keep my cargo hush-hush. I just want to know where and when he wants me to unload it. I can think of pleasanter things to do in this freezing weather than juggling slabs of cold pink marble."

The front door was thrown open and Shane ushered in a small, dark figure along with a swirl of snowflakes.

"Frances!" exclaimed Sabre, "come by the fire and un-thaw."

"Hello, Sabre. I'm afraid Lord Devonport has rescued me again."

Matthew was on his feet immediately. "Lady Sidney, permit me to offer my condolences for your great loss."

Shane said, "As you can plainly see, this is my brother, Matthew Hawkhurst."

"What's wrong, Frances?" asked Sabre, seeing a look of defeat about the slender, drooping shoulders.

"We thought we had found a way out of our financial difficulties. I came up to see Philip's solicitors to sell some of the Sidney lands, but the will was faulty and Philip's brother Robert is claiming everything."

"I've instructed my man of law, Jacob Goldman, to see Robert Sidney on Frances's behalf," said Shane.

"I've sold all my wedding gifts and my silver plate and only got a thousand pounds for the lot," said Frances hopelessly. "My father petitioned the queen to settle Philip's debts, but she refused because she is furious over Mary of Scotland and this is his punishment."

"You must be exhausted. You cannot go back to Surrey tonight; I'll put you in the lovely pink bedchamber. She looked appealingly at Shane. "Darling, have the cook prepare some food and I'll take Frances upstairs."

"Come on, Matt, we'll raid the kitchen ourselves; I'm starving." Alone in the kitchen Shane told Matthew to unload the pink marble from his ships and put them on Shane's vessels.

"Wouldn't it be simpler for me to just deliver it to the customer?" asked Matt. Shane did not want Matthew involved in his covert operations, so he tried to pass off the subject on a light note. "It's for a lady, Matt, if you must know, and I'm the one who wishes to be the recipient of her gratitude."

Matthew was instantly angered. How could his brother be such a bloody philanderer while he enjoyed the favors of the loveliest woman in London? Abruptly he said, "I must go. Where are your ships anchored?"

Shane gave him a long, speculative look and said evenly, "The Defiant and the Gloriana are at Southend. The captains have instructions to take on the marble night or day, whenever it is convenient for you, Matthew."

After his brother departed, Shane took a trayful of tempting food up to Frances. He smiled warmly at her and said, "I have two thousand pounds for you, Frances. I want to help you in a practical way, and as I see it, that way is providing you with a little gold."

Frances wrung her hands. "Oh, m'lord, I cannot!" She was clearly at odds with herself. After a moment's hesitation she confided, "I—I have been helping my father while he has been ill and I have discovered that he has a file on you, Lord Devonport."

"I know," said Shane softly, "and I sincerely hope that if the time comes when your father must pass along his files to another authority, you will find it in your heart to warn me. But, Frances, this money has no strings attached to it. I insist that you take it."

Sabre saw her sigh and visibly relax. "Eat up, Frances, it smells delicious. I'll get you a warm bed gown, and you are to put your troubles aside and get a few hours rest."

Frances flashed her a warm look of gratitude. Shane and Sabre closed the door to the pink chamber. "I'd better get a maid to ready a room for Matthew."

"No need," said Shane. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to their chamber. "He's gone."

"Gone?" exclaimed Sabre in surprise. "Why?"

"I made an innocent remark and his anger flared as if I had set a flame to gunpowder." He set her down in their room and turned to lock the door. "I think he fancies himself in love with you."

Sabre blushed. She knew there was some truth in his words, but after all, Matthew had stood beside her and exchanged wedding vows. She understood perfectly that Matthew thought he had some claim on her. She wanted to shout at Shane, "It is your fault!" but she held her tongue and turned her back to him as she gazed through the tall windows watching the gardens turn white with snow.

He slipped his arms about her beneath her breasts and bent to place a tender kiss on the top of her head. "Darling, I never want you to be left in a mess such as Frances is now in. I've deposited ten thousand pounds in your name with Herriot's, the goldsmith's." She stiffened in his arms, surprised at the large sum. "'Fore God, men are generous with their mistresses."

He spun her round to face him. "Sabre, I don't think of you as my mistress!" She saw the hurt in his eyes. "You are my beloved. What we have is so special and rare. I took your virginity and I never want you to know another man." He shook her. "Don't you feel bonded to me?" he demanded.

"Yes," she cried, "I want us to be man and wife!"

"Oh, my darling," he said, sweeping her up and carrying her to their bed, "so do I, but it cannot be." He undressed her gently, murmuring, "My little love, I'll make it up to you." He kissed her eyelids and smoothed the tiny curls from her temples. "Marriage isn't everything, sweetheart. Look at poor Frances."

She swirled her fingers in the thick matt of black hair upon his chest. "You wanted her to be indebted to you, didn't you?"

"Of course," he admitted as he bit her ear and let his lips play along her throat. She slipped her arms about his neck and lost her thread of thought. His fingers began to work their magic and it was with difficulty that she remembered the question that had plagued her. "What's so secret about pink marble?"

He groaned. "The marble is for Bess, the countess of Hardwick. She has a mania for rebuilding her castles. She happens to own lead and tin mines, so without drawing any kind of suspicion, I'm able to trade her marble for lead."

"For O'Neill?"

He sighed. "Do you want to talk or do you want to play?"

She pressed her legs together tightly, evading his attempt to slip his finger inside her. "You always want to play … you never want to talk."

He groaned. "What is there to talk about?"

"Can't we ever have a serious conversation? I have a hundred questions I'd like you to answer."

He pulled her against his hardness and whispered, "Such as how many times we can do it in one night?"

"Shane, stop it … be serious with me!"

"Sorry," he teased, "you mean you want to know more about me."

"Yes … I want to know everything."

He said with mock solemnity, "My shaft lengthens to ten inches when fully aroused."

She beat his chest with tight little fists. "You're impossible…. I hate you!"

He grinned and whispered, "You love me when I fuck you."

Little by little he managed to coax her from her questions into a loving mood, then overwhelmed her with sheer animal magnetism. He wanted to bury himself within her, to make her beg, to make her cry out at a dozen moments of passion. He knew that he could soon invade her veins with pure bliss which would blot out all questions.

There were seven hundred mourners in Sir Philip Sidney's funeral procession, and Frances was reduced to selling her family's coach and horses to help defray the expenses. Queen Elizabeth was the chief mourner of the beautiful young man taken in the fullness of his youth. She wore a magnificent outfit of black satin brocade, embroidered overall with jet beads and banded with ebony fur. The only relief to the black outfit was a pretty white ruff at her throat.

Sabre attended the funeral with Kate Ashford and her uncle Lord Ashford, who was returned from the fighting in Holland. Sabre could never bear to follow the fashion and be exactly like everyone around her, so she wore pristine white with a low, square-cut neckline and set it off with an unusual black ruff. The effect was startling, especially with her red hair, which she wore upswept so that its length could not be discerned. Once again Sabre's choice of the unique black ruff caught the queen's attention. Sabre cringed as she heard the beautiful voice single her out in the wardrobe room in front of all the queen's ladies.

"Mistress Wilde, you have a knack for that which catches the eye. If I may be so bold as to ask, where did you acquire that fetching little ruff?"

Sabre curtsied to the floor. "If it please Your Majesty, I simply dyed one of my white ruffs."

"It would please me more if you simply dyed some of my white ruffs!" As Sabre raised her eyes, she saw the queen inspecting her copper curls with narrowed eyes. "Your last gift pleased me somewhat, so keep your sovereign in mind, mistress, when you come up with these innovative fashions."

The next day at court every lady wore a black ruff. Every lady that is, except Sabre. She had chosen pale mauve, a perfectly acceptable alternative color for mourning.

Each year the festive holiday season began with the feast of All Hallows on October thirty-first when the queen appointed a lord of misrule to be in charge of the fun and games, forfeits and penalties, that carried on through St. Martin's Day and the feasts of St. Catherine, St. Nicholas, St. Lucy, and St. Thomas. Then came Christmas, St. Stephen's, the feast of the Holy Innocents, New Year's, and Twelfth Night. The season ended at Candlemas on February second. This year, however, there were no festivities at court, no masques or mummeries, where kisses and tickling led to whispered assignations or blatant licentiousness.

The queen was entertained in private homes because the court was in mourning and anyone with ambitions vied for invitations to these private affairs. Bribes were used liberally and her ladies-in-waiting were forever passing to the queen letters and petitions along with costly gifts. The queen read the petitions, grimaced, and said, "Pugh!" accepted the costly gifts, then said a flat "No!" Essex's two sisters, Dorothy Devereux and Penelope Rich, were constantly trying to bribe the queen with expensive jewels. The queen would agree to attend a ball they were giving, then of course she would never show up.

Sabre was happy that the court was quiet and that Shane was less occupied with his intrigues, for they were able to spend lots of days and nights at Thames View. Shane was in seventh heaven when they were able to spend Christmas together, alone and uninterrupted. The baron, fashionably attired as Fitzclare, had taken it into his head to visit Georgiana and most of the servants had gone home for the Christmas holiday.

Shane hitched up a horse and sleigh, tucked Sabre up warmly in a fur rug, and off they went into the countryside of Kent. He took her to see Hever, where Anne Boleyn had lived. It was a beautiful little moated castle which totally enchanted Sabre. When Shane saw that her face was pinched with the cold, he pulled up the sleigh at an inn called the Fighting Cocks, where they enjoyed Christmas dinner in a private dining parlor. After they had eaten he sat down before the blazing fire and pulled her into his lap. His hand caressed her stomach. "Your belly's full of claret and plum pudding. I believe you are a little tipsy, my darling."

"I'm drunk with love," she said, smiling drowsily into the fire.

He nuzzled her neck. "Lying little wench, if that were true I'd be the happiest man on earth."

"After the cold air, the hot fire has made me sleepy," she said, leaning her head against his big, comfortable shoulder.

He kissed her ear. "Let's go home," he whispered, "and I'll put you to bed."

The brisk cold air soon revived her, and when they reached Thames View she hid behind the tall hedges until he had seen to the horses. Then she pelted him with snowballs and shrieked wildly as he took after her to bring her down and wash her face in a deep snowdrift.

They waited until they had retired to their bedchamber for the night before they exchanged gifts. Sabre gave him a narrow sword in a gold-chased sheath and a wicked, heavy dagger to match. The handles were decorated with golden, ruby-eyed dragons and Shane was delighted at the obvious time and care she had taken to choose such a thoughtful, personalized gift for him. He was also deeply gratified at her gasp of pure pleasure as he wrapped her in the present he had had especially designed for her. It was a reversible cloak with furs imported from Muscovy. One side was made from rich, black sable, the incomparable skins deep-piled with a glossy sheen. The other side was fashioned from white ermine, and it could be worn with either fur against her skin. She caressed the fur lovingly and blew on it to see how luxuriously deep the sable was.

Clearly, she was enchanted with his gift. Her eyes were lit with green fire as she looked at him and beckoned, "Make love to me on it." She tossed the fur onto the carpet before the fire, slipped off her silken nightgown, and sank down upon the sable invitingly. How could any man resist the lure, the siren song, of her enticement? They both felt wickedly decadent as they rolled about on the black Russian sable, wrapped in the splendor of fur and flesh.

She was thrilled to discover Shane had had a small sabre tattooed on his left breast over his heart. "That's a coincidence—I am getting a tattoo next week," she teased. "At first I thought I would get a tiny version of the dragon on my shoulder blade, then I thought, ah no, that would show when I wore a low gown. I decided upon my bottom cheek so that none but you will see it."

"Sabre, please, I beg you are only playing with me."

She laughed and kissed him. "Do you forbid me?"

He crushed her mouth beneath his to show his mastery over her and whispered hoarsely, "I know better. If I forbid you I know with certainty the next time I pull down your drawers there will be a dragon or a wildcat staring me in the face!"

"Perhaps a phrase would be better than a picture," she teased unmercifully.

He groaned. "What phrase have you in mind, witch?"

She hesitated, wondering if she dared, then said, "Mistress to the Black Shadow."

He stiffened and stopped his lovemaking. The silence was deadly. Finally he broke the silence with a crisp demand. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. It was a wild guess, but now I know."

He shot up from the bed, looming menacingly above her. "You will tell me this moment exactly how you found out!" He was deadly serious, and she could see the violence surging in him, barely under control. She shrank back, half afraid, then said boldly, "You have so many secrets, I'm bound to learn some of them."

"Did you have me followed … who else knows of this?" he demanded.

She laughed her challenge. "Only I know. Do you fear me?" she taunted. "Does the queen's mighty sea god, the infamous Black Shadow, fear a woman?"

His hard body slammed her back onto the furs.

He plunged into her savagely as if he would impale her with his weapon and silence her forever. She saw his challenge and vowed to match it. She would not allow him to bring her to climax; she was determined that he would reach orgasm before her. She tightened her walls upon him and he redoubled his deep thrusts. It was as if her body were made to receive him. She received wave after wave of sensual pleasure that brought low moans and cries to her lips. She made no effort to stifle them, for she knew how her cries of enjoyment affected him, and brought him to fulfillment. Three times he almost lost control as she whispered erotic love words and tightened upon him to draw his love juice. His teeth closed over her probing tongue so that she retreated a little and withdrew it, then with his own thrusting tongue he raped her mouth as savagely as he ravished her body. Never had he felt a desire like this. It overpowered him until his breathing became harsh and shallow as he was now moving hard, driving hard. She thrashed her head from side to side into the soft sable, but the floor beneath them was so firm a bed, he was able to go deeper than he had ever gone before. He caressed her with his hands, bruising her soft mouth, but she welcomed the pleasure-pain, reaching peaks of desire she had never known existed. She arched against him, crying, "Shane, Shane," as each brutal plunge brought her to the edge of ecstasy. She held on, forcing back the inevitable submission to his magnificent hard body's domination, then her mind and body experienced a cataclysmic explosion that burst inside her, leaving her clinging to him, shuddering and crying and finally fainting. He revived her by raining kisses upon her lips and eyelids. He rolled her from the sable cloak, flipped it over, and said, "Now I will take you upon the white ermine."