Chapter 9

Finally Drake and Hawkhurst were granted an audience by Cecil, Lord Burghley. Drake had already seen Walsingham and told him of the ships that Philip of Spain was building. The report tallied with what Walsingham's spies had reported and he told Drake that he would advise the queen. Drake and Hawkhurst both knew that if Elizabeth listened to any man's advice it was Cecil's. While she was the princess Elizabeth he had shown his loyalty to her. Her sickly brother Edward was on the throne and the wily duke of Northumberland had sent a message to Princess Elizabeth at Hatfield House. Your Grace should come with all speed, for the king is very ill The courier, however, had another message concealed upon his person. It was from William Cecil, and Elizabeth would never forget it as long as she lived. The king is already dead. It is the wish of Northumberland to place Jane Grey and his son Guildford on the throne, and to seize the persons of yourself and your sister. To obey the summons would be to place yourself in Northumberland's hands.

Elizabeth, who had learned guile at an early age, took refuge in her bed and illness. She knew she could count on Cecil when everyone else failed her.

Now Hawkhurst took the initiative. "I saw the ships being built with my own eyes, m'lord Burghley, at the port of Cadiz."

Drake jumped in. "I propose to take a small fleet of ships and destroy this armada before it ever leaves Cadiz."

"Her Majesty will listen to you, my lord," Hawkhurst urged.

Cecil held up his hand and laughed. "It is true the queen trusts my loyalty implicitly, but, gentlemen, you labor under a misapprehension if you think she takes my advice. She listens respectfully, then does exactly as she chooses. I must urge, plead, cajole, coax, wheedle, and flatter to budge her one inch down the road to retaliation against Spain."

"But, m'Lord Burghley, the threat to England is very real; it is no figment of an overactive imagination."

Cecil held up his hand again. "Gentlemen, when the queen took the throne, her coffers were empty. Her father Henry VIII gathered a fortune from the church following his dissolution of the English monasteries. Then he turned around and squandered it on soldiers and war equipment to invade France. Her Majesty has built up prosperity for England and herself from peace, not war. She resents every penny piece spent on the military; witness our paltry efforts to aid Holland."

"Are we to just wait until Philip sails into English ports and steals her crown?" demanded Drake.

"Or take matters into our own hands and destroy the enemy while the queen pretends to turn a blind eye?" asked Hawkhurst.

"Gentlemen, the time is coming when England will need heroes such as you. Each of us in his own way must urge her to move, I at the council table, you at the masques and pageants, until inch by inch we prod her down the road to action."

Essex lost no time in waving Sabre's garter beneath Hawkhurst's nose. "Say good-bye to your trusty steed; it's as good as in my stables already."

Shane didn't believe for one moment that he actually had Sabre's garter, yet the next time he saw her he took hold of her wrist and against her will guided her into the gardens.

The sky was like black velvet with millions of diamonds scattered upon it. A silver crescent of moon sent unusual shadows across the lawns that sloped down to the Thames. As they neared the river they disturbed the swans, which glided out upon the water majestically.

"How did Essex get your garter?" he asked, his voice curiously husky.

Damn men! Why must they brag about their petty conquests? "I went for a swim in the Thames; he must have filched it from my clothes on the riverbank," she improvised lightly.

He took hold of her shoulders none too gently and turned her to face him. "That is a damned lie, for I'll wager you cannot swim."

"I assure you, sir, I can," she asserted.

In a flash he lifted her in his arms and threatened to throw her in. "I'll make you prove it," he said through clenched teeth.

She screamed and their privacy was invaded by three other couples who had come to stroll in the moonlight. He let her feet touch the grass, but clung to her in a close embrace. His lips touched her ear. "If I guarantee you a private place to swim, will you let me watch?"

She felt very seductive. "If you promise only to watch, then my answer is yes, but if you try to play wicked water games I will drown you!"

"I could drown in your eyes every time you look at me," he whispered against her cheek, then he bent her over his arm and captured her lips. He kissed and caressed her into insensibility. She was all awakening passion. Soon she would be ready to be taken, and he received deep pleasure from making her dizzy with desire. She was a contradiction, so headstrong, fiery-tempered, and saucy-tongued, yet he sensed her innocence and inexperience and vulnerability. At one and the same time she managed to be an alluring woman and a bewitching child.

Hawkhurst gave a piercing whistle and a wherryman pulled his barge over to the water steps.

She hung back. "Where are you taking me?"

"You promised to come to Thames View with me. After you've seen it, there is something I want to ask you." He removed his short cape and placed it about her shoulders. The night was warm, but out on the river the breeze could be chilling, and he was consumed with the need to protect her. He sat with a strong, possessive arm about her, which anchored her to his side while he murmured love words against her gloriously disheveled hair. Shane felt a rising excitement that sent the blood beating in his throat. If she said yes tonight, she would be his until dawn.

Thames View was close by Kew Gardens, so it was a short ride. They ascended the river steps and walked up the lush green lawns that led up to the house. All the servants were abed at this hour, save one man. "Sabre, my sweet, this is the baron. On board ship he is both doctor and priest. On land he is closer to me than my shadow."

She held out her hand and the man in the monklike robe took it and held it reverently between his own. "The baron doesn't speak," Hawk explained.

She smiled. "He speaks with his eyes."

He showed off his house to her, wanting her to love it as he did. The entrance hall was vast, high and wide and very formal. Behind it was a receiving room to entertain visitors. They went through the kitchens and dipped their fingers into a bowl of clotted cream, then he showed her the elegant dining salon, the library, and the luxurious withdrawing rooms. The colors were muted in the dimness of the few lights burning, but she could see the classic good taste in every room of the house.

Upstairs he showed her a bathing room, indicated the servants' wing with a negligent wave of his hand, and guided her into the master bedroom. It was definitely a man's room. The walls were paneled in dark red Moroccan leather. The carpet was Persian, cream in color, with a curiously designed border. Before the marble fireplace were scattered animal skins; wildcat and wolf. The windows ran the whole width of the room to overlook the river, and a built-in, carved window seat ran beneath the leaded panes, piled high with furs and velvet cushions. The bed was massive and curtained against the drafts.

He pulled her into his arms and gazed down at her. "Sabre, could you be happy here?"

I'm mad in love with him, she thought wildly.

He could hear the rustle of her petticoats and inhale the scent of her flesh and every inch of him responded. "Sabre, my love, I want you to come here to me whenever you can steal away from court."

"You are asking me to become your mistress?"

He groaned. "I mean you no dishonor. Circumstances prevent me from offering you more."

"You mean the queen?" she probed lightly.

"No, damn it, I mean I am married, though that is a secret I would ask you not to divulge. 'Tis a marriage in name only and means naught to me," he vowed.

His words brought her to her senses. She, better than any other, knew his marriage meant naught to him, but to actually hear it from his own lips, while at the same time he was proposing an adulterous relationship, cured her instantly of the love she'd been feeling for him.

"Sabre, darling, I'll let you have carte blanche. Do you know what that means?" he asked tenderly.

"It means anything I want," she supplied. "Could I have a hundred gowns?" she tested him.

"Of course," he assured her.

"The keys to one of your warehouses?"

"They will be on your pillow in the morning."

"The deed to this fine house or one of equal value?" she tested.

"Yes," he promised, "I have many estates; you shall be allowed to chose."

"In Ireland?" she questioned.

He hesitated for the first time. "I have land in Ireland, but it's wild, godforsaken land. You wouldn't care for it."

"So, there is a limit to what I can have."

"Darling, I swear there is not," he vowed. He was entranced with her. He was a connoisseur of fine female flesh and could feel the current of their mutual attraction. Damn, she had him so hot, he was prepared to give her his soul. His arms tightened and his head dipped to taste the tempting honeyed mouth so teasingly close. While she was lost in the first sensations of the kiss, his hands deftly swept beneath her skirt to caress the bare flesh of her thighs at the intimate place where her silk stockings ended.

A shock ran through her body as she felt his fingers inch closer to his desired goal. His boldness took her breath away. Sabre knew if she said yes, he would have her in that bed this very minute! She looked at his mouth, imagining it covering her body with kisses, and grew faint at the thought. She knew he would cherish nothing that was not hard won. Let him wait and wonder! She was not going to let this wealthy, arrogant lord think she was easy.

"Please, darling?" he begged.

With a gasp that let him know how shocked she was at what his fingers did, she firmly removed his hands. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and said, "You go too fast, m'lord. I will think on your offer, but that is all I can promise."

She retreated a step in the face of his imperious black look, but the fingers of his hand tightened on her shoulder in a cruel, punishing grip. "Look at that bruise when you go to bed tonight."

She smiled her secret smile. She had hurt him, or he wouldn't have found it necessary to hurt her back.

When they met at court they paid scant attention to each other. Each knew that their relationship would eventually become very intimate and it was in their own best interests to keep the liaison from the queen's ears. But each time their eyes met there was a burning intense question in his. Nonetheless, she ignored his looks. She would tell him when she wanted to tell him.

On the morrow was the visit with Penelope to the fortune-teller's. What she did not know was that Essex had talked his sister into an elaborate scheme for a rendezvous. He had arranged for Penelope to take Sabre to one of his own houses, where he would be in costume as an Eastern astrologer who would foretell her affair with the great, redheaded earl. It would be great fun and he would throw off his costume and make love to her. Essex felt very confident of winning the wager with Hawkhurst and couldn't help taunting him about Sabre each time they met.

Shane sought out Sabre in the queen's wardrobe. As soon as Kate saw who her niece had attracted, she left the two discreetly alone and went into an adjoining wardrobe room.

Sabre wore the yellow silk with silver ribbons. "You look very fetching today," he said, his eyes licking over her like a candle flame. "You promised to show me how you could swim, remember?"

"I remember I said if you found me somewhere private."

"I've rented the Roman bath for the whole day. No one will be allowed in but us."

He expected her to refuse and she knew if she did he would force her to keep her promise. "What is it like? Was it really built by the Romans?" She was really very curious about such a place.

He leered at her. "It's opulent—decadent, really. It's made from beautiful white and azure marble. The bathing pool is a hundred yards long and six feet deep. 'Tis reported some of the more daring ladies swam naked. There is a gallery above the pool for spectators, but of course that will remain closed today."

"I will come with you on one condition, my lord," she said, smiling.

"Name it," he said, expecting her to worm her way out of it by one trick or another.

"If you observe me from the gallery above, I shall swim for you."

"Meet me by the water stairs as soon as Kate will let you."

She kept him waiting two hours on purpose. He'd been pacing the water stairs angrily for the last hour, and when she finally arrived he didn't know if he wanted to shake her or embrace her. He looked down into the pale green eyes. "How you madden a man, little wildcat."

She looked inordinately pleased at his admission.

He never took his eyes from her as the wherryman maneuvered the barge into the current of the river and expertly flew beneath London Bridge and then Blackfriars Bridge. Shane pondered on his fatal attraction to her. Granted she was one of the loveliest, most vivid females he'd ever laid eyes on, in any country he'd ever visited. Her body was slim and exquisitely curved and would give rise to a dead man. But he tried to identify the elusive quintessence that drove him to possess her. He shook his head as it once again eluded him.

They alighted at magnificent Somerset House and walked the short distance to the Strand and the Roman bath. The streets were packed with vendors hawking their wares, from milkmaids to rat catchers. He bought her an armful of golden roses. They were full blown and would not last until the morrow, but now, at the peak of their beauty, their perfume was intoxicating. Sabre buried her face in them and inhaled deeply. Desire flared in him, for she never did anything by half measure. He believed she had lain with no man yet, but he would never describe her as innocent, for she had the age-old allure of Eve and he knew that once he had awakened her, she would take him to the Garden of Eden.

Sabre drew in her breath at the splendor of the huge marble bath. The water shimmered a pale azure, inviting, tempting, luring. As she watched Shane climb to the gallery, she knew exactly what she would do. She used one of the small cubicles to undress, but instead of wearing the short petticoat as she first intended, she stripped off every stitch. She would swim nude for him.

She shook out her hair so that it cloaked her to the hips, gathered the roses to her breasts, and stepped out to the edge of the pool. She slipped gracefully into the water and let the golden roses glide about the surface of the pale azure water. Slowly, and very gracefully, she kicked out and floated through the water, her beautiful pale copper tresses drifting out behind her. She swam to the far end of the bath, then swam slowly back again. Once more among the roses she turned upon her back and looked up at him.

He leaned upon the gallery rail, entranced by her performance. She was like a mermaid from some mythic tale, and her beauty pierced his heart and soul. She swam for him for over an hour and he could have watched her forever. Finally she smiled up at him and blew him kisses. By God, he had his answer. She had given it to him in her own spectacular way. Only a mistress would gift a man with such an intimate, luxuriant display. Suddenly he knew exactly what attracted him. It was her courage. She would dare anything. She saw his intention to come down to her, and in a flash she was out of the water in an attempt to clothe herself before he swooped down on her. He was so fast, she had donned only her flimsy shift, and the pretty yellow silk gown with silver ribbons lay just out of her reach.

He lifted her high against his heart and shouted with joy. "You were like a mermaid! A fitting mate for a sea god. Your answer is a resounding yes, isn't it, my love?"

"Of course; was there ever any doubt?" she teased unmercifully. "Dress me," she whispered against his mouth.

"No!" he refused. "I want you … here … now!" he insisted. His hands on her body showed clearly that he thought he owned her.

She panicked for a moment. Had she inflamed him beyond the point of control? She admitted to herself that she had indeed been wanton in her behavior and could expect no less from a man as virile as Shane Hawkhurst.

His hands had already half lifted the shift from her body, and his lips were doing forbidden things to her. She pulled from him with a transparent excuse. "My hair is too wet … please … don't."

He undid the buttons at his neck. "Take my shirt to dry it," he pressed her.

She suddenly went weak at the knees and had to cling to him momentarily. "Oh, please, don't bare the dragon to me or else I'm undone." She was not teasing him now, but had gasped out her true feelings without thinking.

Now he slipped the shift from her shoulders, and as her breasts swelled upward, free of their gauzy restraint, his restraint vanished also. He threw his black cloak onto the beautiful white marble floor and knelt before her. His hot mouth trailed fiery kisses from her navel to the triangle of coppery curls which was the core of all his fantasies.

"Shane … please … not here, not like this…."

"Yes! Here … just like this," he insisted.

"Shane, I'm cold … please, not in this public building … I want you to make love to me in your bed."

He groaned. "Of course you do. I'm sorry, darling." He helped her into her gown, uttering mild oaths under his breath as his fingers dealt with its buttons and fastenings. When she was fully clothed, he enfolded her in his cloak and held her fast. "When will you come to me, Sabre? Tonight?"

"No," she said softly.

"When?" he demanded hoarsely.

"I shall come … when I come," she answered elusively.

He hovered on the brink of violence. She exulted that she could play him like a trout on a line. "You mean when the whim takes you?" She smiled irresistibly. "Precisely!"

She spent the morning carefully putting away the queen's discarded clothes and jewels as she did every morning after the important robing ceremony. Her own dresses, though pretty in color, were woefully lacking in rich ornamentation, and so few in number as to cause comment. Well, as of today all that is at an end, she thought as she aired the sumptuous gowns before putting them away in the wardrobe.

She rushed off to meet Penelope Rich and arrived at Essex House early in time to watch Penelope at her elegant toilette. Sabre's color was high and her eyes sparkled like emeralds.

"Sabre, you look as if you are in love," declared Penelope. "Are those stars in your eyes for my brother Robin?"

"No," answered Sabre honestly. "I told Hawkhurst I'd become his mistress. I want you to take me to your dressmaker, Penelope; you have the most glorious clothes in London. I declare I'm dressed like a beggar maid. I need so many things, I don't know where to begin. The season is begun and I don't intend to be seen in the same thing twice. I have a fantastic idea for my costume for the queen's birthday masquerade, and oh, I need riding dresses, everything!"

"Will he pay?" asked Penelope.

Sabre looked at her and smiled. "There are many things about Lord Devonport that I don't yet know, Penelope, but of one thing I'm very certain—he will pay and pay and pay!"

"Oh, dear," said Penelope, realizing this put an end to her brother's plans regarding the fortune-telling.

"What is it?" asked Sabre.

"Robin had concocted a plan for me to deliver you to his arms this afternoon. He was to be the fortune-teller."

They laughed unabashedly at Essex's plight. "Let's go to the dressmaker's instead. If Robin looks into his crystal ball he should be able to divine all," said Sabre, laughing.

Sabre didn't know it, but Essex's day was already spoiled. Hawk confronted him in the courtyard at Greenwich. "The lady is mine," he said with satisfaction. "I'll send a groom for your Arabian tomorrow."

"In a pig's arse! The lady and I have an assignation this very afternoon. Tomorrow you may have my leavings," he sneered.

Hawk's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Take that back, m'lord Essex, or be prepared to defend yourself," he growled.

"I'll meet you anywhere you suggest," he answered, his eyes cold and deadly.

"Like hell, we'll settle this now," snarled Hawkhurst, throwing off his doublet and drawing his narrow sword.

The clash of steel rang out and the air seemed to hang in stillness, then a crowd gathered in the courtyard. Both were excellent swordsmen, their styles of offense rather than defense identical. Hawk sprang into the attack, forcing Essex to give ground to avoid his whirling, darting blade. Essex parried and thrust quickly, yet very surely. Sweat beaded their faces and stuck their shirts to their backs. Then, only a moment apart, each man nicked his opponent, blood showing crimson on their white shirts. Just at that moment Elizabeth arrived on the scene, returning from her morning walk.

"God's death, stop that this instant!" She was enraged. She loathed quarrels and forbade dueling. "I am sick unto death of young men's tantrums! Devereux, Hawkhurst," she said, deliberately denying them their titles, "I shall deal with this in private. Get you to the throne room."

The two men waited stiffly inside the throne room as the queen decided to let them cool their heels. After half an hour their eyes met; then, as the long minutes ticked by, the earl of Essex, more used to the queen's wrath, said, "We'd do well to concoct a tale that will hold water."

"Meaning?" demanded Hawk.

"If she suspects our quarrel was over a woman, God help us. Her fury knows no bounds."

"Then we must say the quarrel was over her," decided Hawkhurst.

The inner door opened and the queen swept in. She sat upon the throne and the two men had no choice but to kneel before her. Suddenly there was a tap upon the door and a lady of the privy chamber entered and said, "Your Majesty—" The queen instantly took off her shoe and threw it across the room toward the unfortunate woman's head. "Get out!" she screamed. The two men were left in no doubt about their sovereign's mood. She glared at them. "Men of blood live out only half their lives!"

"Your Majesty, I beg you forgive me for drawing my sword near your most precious person," said Essex.

"I humbly apologize, Your Grace," murmured Hawkhurst.

"A fig on your apologies! I will have the cause for this insolent brawl."

The earl of Essex had a facile tongue. "We both picked the same jewel for Your Majesty's birthday."

Her eyebrows went up and her look of displeasure almost disappeared. Hawkhurst, damned if he would let Essex best him, said, "A large black pearl on a diamond chain. But I withdraw from the competition and concede victory to m'lord Essex. He may gift you with the pearl."

She eyed both men, wondering if they had conspired, but knew it was to her advantage to forgive them. "Never quarrel again in my presence or you will find yourselves forbidden court. You may leave."

Outside the throne room Essex, his good humor restored, said, "Where the hell am I to get a black pearl on a diamond chain?"

"It just so happens I have one for sale," said Hawk, laughing.

"I thought you might have, you bastard," Essex replied, enjoying the jest.

Lord Devonport faithfully attended the dancing each night in the council with its adjacent music gallery. This did not interfere with his other nocturnal activities. He planned them for well past midnight after the queen and her court retired to their beds. Of late, he suspected that he was being followed. By so-called friend or foe he knew not, but he determined that next time he would find out. He needed no more rumors that the Black Shadow had been seen again.

On the second night of dancing he thought he'd been patient long enough with Sabre. She let him find a secluded alcove for them, where she allowed him all the kisses he hungered for. He fondled her shamelessly until she was limp with desire and his own nerve endings screamed for the release his body demanded, yet still she eluded him. She gave vague and elusive answers when pressed to come to Thames View.

The third night was a repeat of the second. He was like a man starving and kissed her so passionately that she eventually fainted in his arms.

The fourth night saw an end to his patience. He had had enough dalliance in corners. He led Sabre out in the first dance. He said only one word to her. "Tonight!" It was not a question, it was an order. She tossed her head and went off merrily with a new partner. After a few more dances he led her out again. "Midnight sharp! In the courtyard."

She knew her time for eluding him was finished. He would not allow her to neglect him further. As their dance ended he said lustfully, "You can be thinking of something unique for us to do in bed." He retired from the dancing and took himself off to play gleek, never glancing her way again.

A few minutes past midnight Sabre walked through the courtyard in the warm September night. A dark cat slunk across her path and the warm air carried sounds from an occasional vessel still upon the river. Suddenly she saw a dark horse and rider. She was afraid as it headed straight toward her, but as he came alongside and swept out a strong arm to lift her to the saddle, she saw his face. He took her inside his cloak and she was stunned to feel his warm bare flesh. "You have no doublet or shirt," she breathed.

"No. I once saw with my own eyes the effect my naked chest had upon you. I needed to see it again."

Her arms slid up his hard torso and slipped about his neck. "You are mad!" she whispered.

"Aye, and you are the cause of my madness."

She could hardly contain the excitement she felt. It was a special kind of thrill to steal away from the palace at such a late hour when it was expected that all decent people had retired for the night. The risk and danger involved made her heart race and her pulses quicken. If the queen learned of such behavior they would be punished and banned from court.

He held her against him, then took her mouth in a savagely demanding kiss. He spurred his horse and the three of them sprang forward down the moonlit river road to his own estate. He dismounted and, lifting her from the saddle, carried her into the house and up to the master bedchamber.

He threw off his cloak to reveal the wide expanse of hard, rippling muscle. His dark mane of hair fell wildly to his shoulders, and his white teeth flashed their wolfish gleam against his deeply tanned face. His black breeches fit his muscular thighs as if they were molded to him. Her pale green eyes played seductively with his body until she saw it harden and swell with his need for her. She was wearing her cream wedding gown with the deeply cut-out décolleté. With one teasing finger he traced the high swell of her breast, then dipped his head to place the tribute of a kiss upon each swell. His lips traveled a fiery path up her throat to her ear, which he touched with the tip of his tongue, then whispered, "Did you think of something novel we could do in bed?"

"Yes … let's eat in bed. I'm hungry, aren't you?"

"Starving, but not for food."

"Please?" she begged prettily.

"Since I'm going to be living here a good deal of the time, let me send for a servant and give the order?"

"At this time of the night?" he asked incredulously.

"You said you wanted to do something different … unique."

"Are you really that innocent?" He shook his head in wonderment. "God's truth, you're not much good to a man yet."

"Don't you dare laugh at me." She thrust out her lower lip and he immediately kissed her pouting mouth.

He waved his hand expansively. "You are mistress here. Do whatever pleases you."

She rang the bellpull and Shane came up behind her to undo the back of her gown.

"Whatever are you doing?" she cried as he put his hands on her breasts. "The servant will see!"

"Well, he'd better get used to it, don't you think?" He took the pins from her hair and the heavy silken mass fell over his hands, making him shudder with anticipation.

There was a discreet knock upon the chamber door and she called, "Enter!"

A middle-aged man opened the door and with a studied impassive air asked, "Yes, my lord?"

Shane's eyes glittered shamelessly. "This is Mistress Sabre Wilde, Mason. She will be spending a great deal of time with us. I believe she wants to practice on you."

Not by even a raised eyebrow did Mason show any surprise. The master's antics had ceased to surprise him long ago.

Sabre gave Shane a scathing look, went over to Mason, held out her hand, and asked, "What's your first name?"

Now he was surprised. "Why, it's Charles, my lady." She knew he was just being polite, but it was the first time anyone had used her correct title and it secretly thrilled her. "Well, Charles, I have a craving for something delicious. What does a Sea God keep in his larder … ambrosia?"

His lips twitched. "No, my lady, but may I suggest blackberries and cream?"

"Oh, yes, please. Two bowls. We're going to eat them in bed." She winked at him and he knew at last young Hawkhurst was going to have his hands full with this one.

"By God, you're a brazen hussy," Shane teased, finishing the job of removing her gown.

"A moment ago I was an innocent lamb."

"Mayhap you're both." He undid the tapes that held her petticoats and she stepped out of them clad in busk, drawers, and stockings. "My undergarments are very prim for a mistress, my lord, but you will be delighted to learn that I have already ordered dozens of the most scandalous underpinnings you can imagine. My suggestions for their design even shocked Penelope Rich's modiste."

"Your prim drawers are adorable." He kissed her nose, then poured them both a glass of sack, a dry sherry mixed with Barbados sugar and spices. There was another discreet knock upon the door and she looked pleadingly at Shane. He shook his head wickedly. "Ah, no, you must face him and get your just desserts."

She was bold enough to march to the door in her drawers and take the silver tray from Mason. She closed the door with her bottom but Shane took the tray from her in a flash. "First we undress, then we get into bed, then we eat!" He felt a bolt of desire tear into him. "Sweetheart, your mouth was made for kisses, not blackberries and cream." He pressed his mouth against hers, then let his lips travel the length of her throat. His fingers trailed across the top of her busk, then dipped into the valley between her upthrusting breasts. "Your body holds sweeter fruit I long to devour," he murmured. "Your breasts are like melons, ripe for the tasting, with hard little fruits at their tip." He slowly removed the busk, and her breasts spilled out into his strong hands, which caressed and lifted them worshipfully to his mouth for its anointing. "Sabre, you are so beautiful, it's sinful!" he whispered between kisses.

He slowly pushed her backward into the bed to draw off her stockings. Every inch of silken flesh he exposed received his kiss. He made her feel totally beautiful— from her ankles to her earlobes. Each and every part of her body received his praise, until at last he finally removed her drawers and showered her with love words. He was determined to draw out their hours of intimacy so that each of them would receive the fullest and richest pleasure possible.

He stripped off his breeches and stood before her. With their eyes they began to make love to each other. As his eyes caressed and worshiped her, he was conscious of the blood flowing hot and thick in his veins and of the heavy, sweet ache that had flooded his loins.

In turn she adored him with her eyes. Her glance traveling the full hard length of him, lingering on his mouth, his shoulders, his hands, his belly, and finally coming to rest on the huge tapered lance that thrust boldly up past his navel.

At this moment she thought him the most magnificent man ever created. No wonder the queen called him her sea god. She could not get over her incredible luck that this devastatingly handsome male was actually her husband. He was a rake, a rogue, and a ravisher, but by heaven and hell, he was all man! She had never felt like this before, never even dreamed that she could feel like this. She couldn't wait for him to do bad, wicked things to her, and she knew if she glimpsed the dragon, she would fall upon his body and begin to kiss and bite it.

She held out her hands for the tray, and when he handed it to her she placed it between them as a barrier to her lust. She sat cross-legged upon the bed. Her copper tresses fell all about her in disarray and mingled with the copper curls between her legs. He found her wildly beautiful. He lay on his side, head propped on his hand, and watched her, entranced. He groaned as her pink tongue darted out to lick the cream from each blackberry. When she was finished, she began to feed him, and he sucked her fingers erotically each time she brought the fruit to his lips.

He put the tray on the floor. "Come to me, love." He knelt over her, his face hard with passion, and reached out to caress her aching breasts. At his touch she turned to fire, to molten lava, her bones melted to wax. He buried his face in the hollow between her breasts. Her hands roamed his body, feeling his great strength, the heavy shoulders, the powerful thighs. Her hands could not get enough of him. Her fingers spread through the thick mat of hair covering the solid muscle of his chest. Her fingertips explored his nipples, then stole upward to encircle his neck.

He crushed her mouth with his and she opened readily, as he had taught her, to receive his kisses and his tongue. She protested as he tore his mouth from hers to travel a downward path to her belly and below. She felt the power in his hands as they tightened around her, his mouth fastened hungrily to her flesh, feasting on her unmatched beauty. His aggressive mouth moved ever lower until his lips journeyed to tease the triangle of copper ringlets. She shocked herself, because she did not want him to stop.

His hands slid up the backs of her thighs, forcing her forward into his kisses. She felt his tongue flit across the swollen bud of her desire, then explore the soft places of her secret part. His fingers spread her open and she thrilled as his tongue thrust into her and plundered unmercifully. She began to thrash and moan as waves of unbelievable pleasure swept through her body, fulfilling her darkest fantasies. She cried out for more and more and more and he gave her all she begged him for. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, then entwined in his dark mane of hair, holding him to the center of her volcanic pleasure that felt as if it were going to erupt with molten fire. She sprawled, writhing wantonly beneath his expert mouth, then his hands smoothed up her body to her breasts to play with and squeeze hard the thrusting pink nipples. She came up from the bed with a jolt, and a scream was torn from her throat as she reached her highest peak and spilled over into a million splintered lights. He licked her once more before removing his tongue, then held her cradled against him to feel every last shudder of her magnificently generous response to him.

She ran her fingers over the scratches her nails had made on his bronzed shoulders. "My little wildcat," he said hoarsely. She was avidly curious about his body. She could actually see his hardened shaft throbbing with his heartbeat. She reached out her fingers to touch him and was amazed that it felt as solid as marble. Her eyes lifted to his, uncertain for the first time. "You are so enormous," she breathed, realizing that very soon he would mount and enter her.

He embraced her and promised, "If I hurt too much, I'll stop, my darling. The first time can be painful, that's why I loved you the other way first. I'm sure you're ready for me, my love. Try and relax and take me into you. There's no hurry, my lovely one," he said against her lips, and she felt she would surely die from his kisses.

A sharp, imperative rapping came upon the door. Shane knew the urgent summons could not be ignored. He uttered an oath and slipped from the bed to the chamber door. The baron handed him a note which Shane quickly held before the candles to scan its contents. This time the oath he uttered was obscene. He ran his fingers through his dark mane of hair, nodded quietly to the baron, then closed the heavy door. He came back to the bed and took her into his arms. "Sabre, my love, forgive me for what I must do. I wouldn't leave you at this moment for any reason on earth, except this one. I know I can't expect you to understand; there are so many things I cannot tell you. Someone's life is in grave danger."

"Is it a summons from the queen?" she asked jealously.

"My darling, I swear to you I will never leave our bed to go to that bitch. Try to get some sleep." He pulled the covers up and tucked her in safely. "I may be gone for days."

"I have to return to court tomorrow, but I would like to bring some of my things here, if it's all right."

"Sabre, darling, this is our house now. Come and go as you please." He bent to kiss her one last time. "I'm a swine to leave you like this, but I swear I'll make it up to you," he promised.

She watched him dress all in black. She watched in silence as he armed himself with sword, daggers, and pistols, then covered all with a long black cloak. Already he was totally withdrawn from her. He had a secret life that absorbed and occupied most of his thoughts, and she knew instinctively that when she learned about it, it would give her all the ammunition she would ever need to destroy him. She gave no thought to the danger that lay in wait for him; rather she envied the adventure that he and the baron would ride through the night to enjoy.