Chapter 3

R obin Southwood was totally confused. Never in his life had he felt this way. His fête for the queen had been a tremendous success, and yet he felt despondent. When the last guest had left, he flung himself into a chair by the crackling fire.

Joining him there, Velvet and Alex were so full of high spirits themselves that at first they didn't notice Robin's depression.

"I've never been to such a gathering before," Alex said enthusiastically. "You're a fine host, Rob!"

"God's nightshirt, big brother, 'twas a great success. The house and gardens looked magnificent, and the food and entertainment will be talked about for weeks. Her Majesty said that she has not attended such a party since your father was alive! I am the most envied girl at court because you are my brother!"

"I met Sir Walter Ralegh tonight, Rob," Alex put in. "He's planning a voyage to the New World, and he wanted to know if any of my ships might want to go along. Do you know what an opportunity it would be for us?"

"Scamp is quite envious of you, you know, Robin. I think he may try to steal away your chef the next time he himself entertains Her Majesty." Velvet giggled. "Oh, Robin, how can I thank you for letting me be your hostess and for these lovely pearls? You are just the best brother a girl ever had!"

Suddenly the Earl of Lynmouth sat bolt upright in his chair. "Who was she?" he demanded. "Who was the incredibly beautiful creature you introduced me to tonight, Velvet?"

"What!" Both Velvet and Alex were taken aback.

"That utterly exquisite blonde in the wonderful turquoise silk gown! Never have I seen such perfection! Who is she? You must know, Velvet, and I must know as well!"

For a moment, Velvet was totally baffled. There had been several beautiful blond women at the fête tonight. "Robin," she said slowly, "I am not sure who you mean. There were a number of blondes, and at least three of them were in blue."

"Not blue, turquoise! You must know her! You said she was one of your best friends at court when you introduced her, but I could not linger and find out more because the queen's barge was sighted then."

"Angel! You mean Angel!"

"Angel? Is that her name? My God, how fitting!" He sighed deeply.

Velvet resisted the overwhelming urge to burst into a fit of giggles, though the fact that Alex grinned conspiratorily at her over her brother's head didn't make it any easier. Swallowing, she said in a somewhat strained voice, "Her name is Angel Christman, Robin. She is a royal ward, and has been raised at court. Her parents are deceased."

"I want to meet her," Robin said firmly.

"You did meet her," Velvet protested.

"I want to meet her properly, Velvet. I realize that you must return to court tomorrow, but the next time you come to Lynmouth House I want you to bring Mistress Angel Christman with you."

Again Velvet fought back the urge to laugh. Robin was behaving so foolishly. Then, looking at him, she realized, somewhat startled, that her brother had fallen in love! Love at first sight was something that happened only in fairy tales, wasn't it? Had Robin really fallen in love with Angel? What would Angel think of it when she told her? No, she couldn't tell her! What if Angel didn't really love Robin back and only accepted his suit because of his vast wealth? Mama had always said a woman should marry only for love. She would have to keep silent and wait and see if Angel responded to Robin's suit.

Without warning, Velvet felt very tired, and she realized that it was almost dawn. She was due back at court that very evening, and if she did not get some rest, she was going to disgrace herself by falling asleep on her feet in the queen's presence.

"Go to bed, Velvet," Robin said as if reading her thoughts. "I remember what it was like to be at court in the queen's service."

Velvet curtsyed to her brother and Alex, then moved slowly and sleepily from the library.

As the door closed behind her, Alex looked at his friend. "When will Velvet be coming back to Lynmouth House, Rob?"

"I'll tell her tomorrow before she returns to her duties that she's to treat my home as her own whenever she's in London. Mother would want it that way, I know," Robin said.

"When do you think she'll have another day free?"

"We'll have to join the court, my friend, if you're going to woo my sister and if I'm going to pay my addresses to Mistress Christman. Maids of Honor take their pleasure when and where they can, for the queen is an exacting mistress. I well remember my own days as her page."

"God in His heaven, I nae thought to find myself at Elizabeth Tudor's court. I'm no courtier, Robin." Alex shook his head.

"As long as you're honest with the queen and Velvet grows fond of you, Alex, you've no need to play the royal game. I could not help but notice tonight that several of the ladies were most taken with you."

Alex chuckled softly. "I must say I've nae had such imaginative offers since our days in Paris, Robin. With such a virtuous queen, I am surprised she tolerates such licentiousness around her."

"She tolerates it as long as it is not out in the open. Let a liaison become a scandal and there is hell to pay, you may be sure."

The Scotsman nodded, then said, "Well, I'm off to my bed, too." He stood, stretching his long frame.

"You should have pleasant dreams," Robin teased, "or were you unsuccessful this evening with my sister?"

Alex grinned back. "A gentleman, even a wild and rude Scot such as myself, never kisses and tells, Robin." Before Lord Southwood could pursue it further, Lord Gordon was quickly gone.

Robin smiled after him, thinking that there had been a day when Alex Gordon had most certainly kissed and told. His smile broadened into a grin as he remembered those long-gone times they'd spent in Paris, the whores they shared, and the lies they told each other about their prowess. He chuckled, then grew somber. Those were the days before his marriage to Alison de Grenville.

Alison. Foolish, foolish Alison. He had never loved her, but he had been very fond of her. He had never been in love at all until tonight when he had seen the exquisite Mistress Angel Christman. He had spoken but few words to the girl. He hadn't even danced with her, yet he knew, or rather his heart knew, that she was the woman for him. He had sworn to himself that he would never marry again, but this was an entirely different matter altogether.

His mother had once tried to explain love, true love, to him. She had even asked him if he wanted to call off the betrothal that she had made with the de Grenvilles when he was a little boy. He hadn't allowed her to do so, for he knew he had to marry someone and Alison was pleasant enough. He had known her all his life. "But you don't love her!" his mother had fussed at him, and he'd smiled with the superiority of youth. His mother had spent her whole life in love, it seemed, and although she claimed to have found great happiness with the last of his stepfathers, Adam de Marisco, she had suffered greatly for her love. Robin had often questioned if love was worth all the pain, and had decided early it was not. He had wanted an orderly life.

Mistress Angel Christman, he suspected, was going to change all that. He had never meant to return to court, preferring a quiet life on his Devon estate with his children. His marriage to Alison had brought about his gradual withdrawal from the queen's circle, and her death had been the best excuse of all to stay away. Now he found himself being drawn back by a pair of meltingly gorgeous blue eyes, a head of blond ringlets, and a smile that touched his heart so strongly he almost wept remembering it. His duty as the queen's host had prevented him from pursuing Mistress Christman this evening, but he was going back to court to do so. His first move, however, would be to inquire about her background from Lord Hundston, who would know all.

The queen's chancellor was very surprised the morning after the Earl of Lynmouth's fête to receive a message from that gentleman regarding the background of one Mistress Angel Christman, a royal ward. England was facing the most serious threat of invasion since the Normans. Everything Elizabeth Tudor stood for, everything England stood for, was in mortal danger, and Lord Southwood wanted to learn about a chit of a girl. These hedonistic courtiers, thought Hundston, and then he remembered who the request came from and reassessed the situation. Robert Southwood was a serious young man who had been deeply and genuinely grieved by his wife's death. That there was a royal ward with some quality to attract this nobleman was in itself interesting.

Lord Hundston looked into the matter and was disappointed by what he found. Mistress Angel Christman, age seventeen, had been a royal ward since the age of five. She was the granddaughter of two minor barons from the northwest counties and the child of a younger son and daughter. She had been left in the queen's charge by her father, who had murdered her mother after finding the lady in another gentleman's bed. The girl had no fortune, no influential relations to aid her, and therefore no prospects. One thing Lord Hundston did learn was that Mistress Christman was radiantly beautiful, which might possibly stand her in good stead if she were clever as well. So far she had not given evidence of such quality, and there was absolutely no gossip connecting her with any gentleman. Her closest two friends seemed to be Bess Throckmorton and Velvet de Marisco.

"Of course!" Hundston spoke aloud to himself. That had to be the connection. Mistress Christman was involved with Mistress de Marisco, who was a younger sister to the Earl of Lynmouth. With her parents away, the earl was looking after his sister's interests, and rightly so. He but sought to know about her favorite companions. Bess Throckmorton was a known quantity coming as she did from a highly placed family, even if she herself was poor; but Mistress Christman, an unimportant royal ward from an undistinguished family, was, of course, unknown to Robert Southwood. Lord Hundston dictated a message to his secretary presenting the girl's background and informing the Earl of Lynmouth that, according to the information available to him, Mistress Christman was a proper friend for his sister. Then he turned to the far more serious matters of state.

The night before warning beacons had sprung up on every hill in Devon and Cornwall. This was the signal that the great Armada of Spain had been sighted off the Lizard at dawn, and it was now close to Plymouth. The signal fires had spread the word from Devon to Dorset to Wiltshire to Surrey to London. The news had been kept from the queen on Lord Burghley's orders, however, until after the Earl of Lynmouth's fête.

The queen had had a very traumatic year and needed this small bit of pleasure, William Cecil had decided. He had been with her since the very beginning, and he knew her better than anyone. The next few weeks would tell the fate of the Tudor dynasty, and the queen would need to be strong.

Once the fête was over, however, he had told her, and the news had spread like wildfire throughout the court. The gentleman courtiers had not even bothered to sleep. They had returned to Greenwich only long enough to change from their silks and velvets into more practical clothing. Then they were off for the coast. Charles Howard, the lord admiral, was already in Plymouth, and had been for some time. So were Sir Francis Drake, John Hawkins, and Martin Frobisher, the other great admirals of the fleet.

There had been several earlier sightings of the Spanish. In late June a Cornish bark bound for the French coast had spotted nine large ships with great, blood-red crusaders' crosses on their sails cruising the seas between the Scillies and Ushant. Another coastal trader out of a Devon port was startled to come upon a small fleet of fifteen ships. Chased, he had come ashore in Cornwall and ridden hell-bent for Plymouth with his story.

Francis Drake had, of course, realized what these sightings meant. The previous year he had surprised the Spanish at Coru?a, and burned their fleet, thus postponing King Philip's attack on England. Now the Armada was rebuilt, refitted, and revictualed. Drake convinced the lord admiral to seize the initiative, sail south, and strike at the Spanish again before they could reach England. Within a day's sail of Coru?a, however, the wind veered about and blew strongly from the south. The English had set sail short of victuals, and now, even shorter of rations, there was nothing for them to do but turn about and sail home. There was always the distinct possibility that the Spanish would take advantage of the south wind and reach England before they did. Such a thing was too awful even to contemplate.

The day that the English fleet had returned to Plymouth, the Spanish had set sail from Coru?a and, with a southerly wind behind them cruised northwestward across a sunshine-filled Bay of Biscay, not usually noted for its pleasant weather. The skies then turned dark for several days, slowing the Spanish down before it had become fair once again. The great Armada continued ever northward toward England. Then on Saturday, July 20, 1588, Lord Burghley had word that the Spanish had at last arrived.

England had responded in an overwhelming fashion to the queen's earlier request for aid. The city of London had asked how many men and ships they were expected to supply, and were told five thousand men and fifteen ships. Two days later London's aldermen produced ten thousand men and thirty ships for Her Majesty's service.

England's Roman Catholic Cardinal Allen sent an "Admonition to the Nobility and People of England ." They must support the invasion, he counseled, the purpose of which was to restore the Holy Mother Church and to rid them of that monster of impiety and unchastity, Elizabeth Tudor. This incredible plea was sent from the cardinal's lodgings at the Palace of St. Peter in Rome.

The English Catholics were not interested. They were content, and had become prosperous under Harry Tudor's brat. They were English to the soles of their feet, and they had no intention of replacing an honest-born English queen with a Spanish infanta, for Philip of Spain had said he would give England to one of his daughters. All England rallied to the cause. The dispatches came fast and furious from the coast to Lord Burghley and the queen.

While Robin's fête was in full swing, the English navy had worked furiously to warp their ships out to sea again. Caught on a lee shore with the enemy at their gates, they strove through the night to tow their ships to safety.

On the morning of July 20, the wind against them, the English worked their way laboriously out of Plymouth Sound into the open sea. By noon, fifty-four vessels, in an incredible feat of pure skill and superb discipline, were close to the Eddy-stone Rocks. The Spanish, twenty miles to windward, were unaware that the English fleet lay smack in their path.

The Spanish had been given a plan of action by their king, and come what may they would adhere to it. Was not God on their side? The English, however, had been given an order by their queen. Win. How they fought their battle was up to the admirals. Elizabeth Tudor was only interested in the successful results of their naval decisions. She knew that God helped those who helped themselves. As she had said so many times, "There is but one lord, Jesus Christ. The rest is all trifles."

By evening, a hazy moon scampered devilishly amid high, fair-weather clouds. The Armada was anchored in the close battle formation that it was to maintain until it reached its rendezvous with the Duke of Parma off Calais. During the night, the watches on the many decks of the Spanish fleet occasionally noticed shadowy forms passing in the mist before them and moving westward toward the Cornish coast. At dawn, the surprised Spanish discovered that they had been outflanked, and their outnumbered enemies were sailing a mile or so to windward. The English now had the battle advantage.

The great Spanish Armada—its huge ships top-heavy with turrets; some of them weighing more than a thousand tons with towering masts and superstructures; their sails bright with paintings of saints and martyrs; their great hulls painted a forbidding black; packed with soldiers and great grappling irons hanging from their yardarms—bore down on England's defenders. The English ships, by contrast, were trim and far smaller. Their pure white sails bore a simple design: St. George's Cross. Their hulls were painted in the queen's colors, green and white, in a geometrical pattern. They lay low in the water, their ports bristling with guns.

The battle was fierce and hotly contested, but by one in the afternoon when the action was concluded, neither side could claim a victory. The Spanish had come prepared for a close-in fight. Their new fifty-pound iron round shot was capable of destroying the rigging on an opponent. The English, however, had greater mobility with their sleeker vessels, and their expertly handled English culverins were far superior at long range. They whisked in and out of the Armada, attacking like small dogs nipping at the heels of fat sheep. After several hours of battle, and finding themselves unable to gain the advantage, both sides wisely retired. The English, however, had not lost one ship.

The Armada continued on its ponderous way, moving majestically in the summer sunshine across Lyme Bay. Upon the coastal hills spectators peered anxiously through the haze for a glimpse of Spain's mighty fleet. Meanwhile, a host of small ships poured out from the little seaside towns of Dorset, bringing the English fleet supplies of fresh food and ammunition as fast as the authorities could requisition them.

By Saturday, July 27, the Armada had anchored off the French port of Calais. Here the Spanish admiral, the Duke of Medina-Sidona, could communicate with the Duke of Parma, the Spanish general who was to command the landing forces. The Armada's shadow, the English navy, was now joined by the remainder of the fleet commanded by Lord Seymour and Sir William Winter, a seasoned veteran.

In London, they waited. The rumors were wild and many. Drake had been captured, went one. Another tale was that there had been a great battle off Newcastle and the English flagship had been sunk. In the face of these rumors the English people had only one thought: the coming battle. Wednesday, August 7, was the date of the highest floodtide at Dunkirk, and it was expected that Parma's troops would embark across the channel that day and swarm onto English soil, probably in Essex.

The Earl of Leicester, Robert Dudley, had been put in charge of the army and named lieutenant general. The queen had wished to go down to the coast to see the battle, but Leicester would not permit it. He wrote to her saying:

Now for your person, being the most dainty and sacred thing we have in the world to care for.… A man must tremble when he thinks of it, specially finding your Majesty to have that princely courage to transport yourself to your utmost confines of your realm to meet your enemies, and to defend your subjects. I cannot, most dear Queen, consent to that, for upon your well-doing consists all and some for your whole kingdom, and therefore, preserve that above all!

The queen chafed, fussing at her ladies, irritable and moody by turns. She hated being cooped up in London. It was the gentle Bess Throckmorton who finally suggested to her, "Perhaps Your Majesty might go as far as Tilbury and review your troops. Just the sight of you would hearten them greatly."

"God's nightshirt, Bess! You are absolutely right! We shall go to Tilbury, for surely Leicester, old woman that he has become, will not object to that."

Leicester gave in gracefully, for he understood her concern better than most. He wrote: Good sweet Queen—alter not your purpose if God give you good health!

The queen came down the river Thames to Tilbury on August 6. Her great barge with its green and white banners was filled to overflowing with her ladies, certain chosen courtiers, and minstrels who sang and played gaily as they wanted to take their mistress's mind from the business at hand if only for a short while. Behind the royal vessel floated several others, carrying servants, the royal coach, and the horses.

Though Ralegh had now joined the fleet, Essex was with the queen. She would not suffer to have him gone from her, much to his embarrassment and anguish, for Robert Devereux was no coward. Velvet, being the least of the queen's ladies, had offered to ride in her brother's barge so that there would be more room in Elizabeth Tudor's vessel. She had invited Bess and Angel to ride along with her. Bess was gowned in rose pink, but she had been pale and wan of late, and now Velvet was even more convinced that her friend was in love with Walter Ralegh who was in danger. Velvet would not dare to suggest such a thing out loud, however, for if the older Bess wished to confide in her she would do so. To pry would be unforgiveable, especially since Bess's friendship had smoothed Velvet's way at court.

The cruise down to Tilbury had an almost holidaylike atmosphere to it despite the seriousness of the situation. Everyone was wearing their best clothes, and the barges' storage areas contained vast picnic hampers filled with cold chickens, rabbit pasties, freshly baked breads, cheeses, peaches, cherries, and fruit tarts. Behind the Southwood barge bobbed an openwork wicker basket. Through its slits could be seen several stoneware bottles of wine cooling in the river.

"Do you really think the Spanish will invade us tomorrow, my lord?" the beauteous Angel asked Robin. She was wearing a gown of sky blue silk that was somewhat faded and perhaps a bit tight across her bosom, for royal wards, especially poor ones, were not often given new gowns. The besotted Earl of Lynmouth did not notice. All he knew was that she was the sweetest girl he had ever met.

"God forbid it," he answered, "but you need have no fear, Mistress Christman. I will protect you."

Angel blushed rosily, and Velvet was amazed to find her usually quick-tongued friend so maidenly and at a loss for words. What on earth was the matter with her? Velvet's eyes met Bess's, and Bess smiled, understanding her thoughts.

"Are you afraid, Velvet?" Alex asked her.

"Nay!" came her quick reply. "I'll take a sword in my own hand to defend England before I'd let the damned Spanish have it!"

"Bravo, petite soeur!" approved Robin. "You're as loyal an Englishwoman as any. Your father would be proud of you."

Just after noon, the royal barge arrived at Tilbury, approaching the dock near Block House where Leicester and his officers were on hand to greet the queen. As Elizabeth set her elegantly shod foot onto land, cannons were discharged and a fife and drum corps began to play. Awaiting her was Sir Roger Williams with two thousand mounted knights. A thousand of these were sent ahead to Ardern Hall , the home of Master Rich where Elizabeth would be staying. The other thousand horsemen escorted the queen's carriage. The queen was in high spirits, here among the people she loved. Though she feared an invasion, she truly believed that the spirit and courage of her people would prevail over the dark might of Spain's vastly superior forces. Never at any time would she even consider failure, though no word had yet come from the fleet.

Beside her in the coach sat the Earl of Leicester. Like Elizabeth herself, he had not been well this last year, but he had mustered what strength he had to command the army for her. Time had mellowed Robert Dudley somewhat, and his genuine affection for Elizabeth could not be doubted. It was as strong as his ambition. He had waited many years after his first wife's death for the queen to marry him, but when it became apparent that she had no intention of doing so, he had, in a fit of pique, married her cousin, the widowed Lettice Knollys. It had been a secret marriage, for neither the bride nor the groom wished to destroy their positions at court. The queen, however, found them out and was furious. The earl and his countess were banned from court for a period of time, but Elizabeth missed Dudley and he was soon recalled. Lettice was not so fortunate and was forced to cool her heels for several years.

At first the marriage had been successful, but then, like so many hasty marriages, it began to fall apart. Dudley truly loved the queen inasmuch as he was ever capable of loving anyone. Then, too, he loved the power and the favors that only she could bestow. In that attitude, Lettice was her husband's equal, but Elizabeth could not forgive her cousin for marrying the man that she herself loved above all others, even if she would not marry him. Neither of the Dudleys were the most admirable of characters, but both were unquestioningly loyal.

Bess had gone with the queen to Ardern Hall , but the queen, ever indulgent of her godchild, had told Velvet that she would not need her that night. Velvet and Angel were to stay with the Earl of Lynmouth and Lord Gordon at one of Tilbury's better inns, the Mermaid. Robin had been wise enough to send one of his men ahead several days prior to their departure from London to request the two best bedrooms and a private parlor for dining.

The Mermaid was located amid a green lawn on the banks of the river. A whitewashed building set with dark timbers, it had lovely diamond-paned windows and red and white roses by every door. To one side of the main building was a stable, to the other a lovely garden, its flower beds filled with spicy marigolds and gillyflowers, fragrant blue lavender and sweet rosemary. Symmetrically set within the small garden were little green shrubs, trimmed into fancy shapes like urns and birds. Nearer the back door of the inn was a small kitchen garden growing beans, carrots, peas, parsnips, leeks, and salad greens. There were also several fruit trees—apple, plum and pear—as well as currant and gooseberry bushes. It was nothing at all like the beautiful gardens at Queen's Malvern with its two mazes, hundreds of rosebushes, and rare lilies brought back from the Americas. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant place to walk after a fine meal.

It was twilight, and the busy river was at last calm, a faintly discernible haze hovering above it, the momentarily calm waters reflecting the mauve sky above. Swallows swooped over the surface in the pinkish light. Despite her privileged place on her brother's barge, it had not been possible to bring many changes of clothing. Velvet was still wearing the apple green silk gown she had put on that morning, but though he knew she was annoyed at being unable to change her gown, Alex thought she looked fetching.

Velvet was surprised to find herself alone with the handsome Scot. Her brother, it seemed, had managed to move to another part of the inn garden with Angel. Determined not to show her nervousness, she turned to Lord Gordon, saying, "You have told me nothing of yourself, my lord. Speak to me of your home."

"I thought we had agreed that you would call me Alex," he said in his deep, warm voice.

She blushed and silently fussed at herself for doing so. "Tell me of Scotland, Alex. Until I joined the court I never lived anywhere but at my homes in England and France. Tell me of your land. My betrothed husband is a Scot, and if I do wed with him, I shall be living there."

"My family has a small castle in the Highlands to the north and west of Aberdeen. They also have a town house in Aberdeen."

"Do you not have a house in Edinburgh? Surely you follow the court?"

"Nay, lass, I've not the time or the inclination to involve myself in the Stewart court. Stewart monarchs invariably borrow money from their nobility, never pay it back, and are incredibly ungrateful. The king, however, is a cousin. We share the same grandfather, James V."

Her green eyes widened, impressed by this revelation. "Your grandsire was the king of Scotland?"

"Aye. My grandmother, Alexandra, was the heiress to"—He hesitated an instant, realizing that he had almost said BrocCairn, then, recovering, he continued—"our family's estates. She claimed a handfast marriage with the king, but as she died birthing my father, Angus, nothing was made of it. The king recognized his paternity, but my father bore the Gordon name. It was said that my grandmother loved her Jamie Stewart very much."

Velvet sighed dramatically. "How wonderfully romantic! If only I could fall in love!"

It was pure madness that led him to say it, but Alex could not contain himself. "I think I'm falling in love with you, Velvet," he said quietly.

She stopped in midstep and turned to look up at him. "You must not, Alex," she said with utmost seriousness. "I am betrothed, and you know it."

"Yet you tell me you fled this betrothed, that you will not have him."

"I have not said I would not have him. I simply will not wed him until I know him, and until my mother and father return home from India. I would not, however, compromise my family's good name, Alex. Surely you don't think that I would?"

"Nay, lass, I do realize your honor would not allow you to shame your family, but, Velvet, would you break my heart? The heart that I would so willingly put into your gentle keeping?"

She looked so confused, and his heart rejoiced. Then she said with total candor, "I have never been courted by a man before. Are you courting me, Alex?"

"Would you welcome such a suit, Velvet?"

Her beautiful young face was grave, and for a long moment she considered. Finally she spoke. "I have said that I would marry only for love, yet how can I know what love is if I accept my parents' decision blindly? The one freedom they have always given me has been the freedom of choice, and though they be far from me now, I know that they would allow me that same freedom in this case. Yes, Alex, I will welcome your suit provided that you understand that it may lead to nothing more than a simple flirtation. I cannot mislead you. My family's honor binds me legally to this unknown earl though my heart might be drawn elsewhere."

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her roughly, leaving her blushing and breathless. She slid her arms about his neck, and his big hand tangled in her auburn hair, holding her face up while he covered it with kisses. "Ah, lass," he murmured thickly, "you make me a very happy man!"

Velvet, suddenly filled with an unexplained joy, laughed up at him, her eyes shining brightly as she said, "You make me happy also, dear friend!"

While they continued on down the riverbank, a far more intense scene was being enacted in a secluded part of the inn garden. Robert Southwood had waited from the instant he had laid eyes upon Angel Christman to be alone with her like this. His gentle manner was deceptive, for like his father before him, he took what he wanted. Without any preamble, he declared himself. "I love you," he said in an intense voice. "I have loved you from the first moment I saw you!"

Angel stopped, shocked by his words. She had not believed that Velvet's brother was the kind of gentleman who would make mockery of a poor girl. She was confused and, for a minute, unsure of what to say to him. Then realizing that to play the simpleton would only encourage his cruelty, she said briskly, "You make fun of me, my lord, and that is unkind of you. Your sister loves you dearly, and she is the best friend I have ever had. Would you endanger the one thing I prize most, Velvet's friendship? For shame, my lord earl!"

"But I do not mock you!" he cried. " I love you, Angel!"

"Then you are a fool, my lord, for you do not even know me!"

she snapped, her patience gone. I may be poor and unimportant, she thought to herself, but how dare he tease me in this fashion!

"Your father was Witt Christman, the son of Sir Randor," said Robin. "Your mother, whom you favor strongly, was Joanne Wallis. Your family seat is near Longridge in Lancaster. Your parents died when you were five, and although your paternal grandparents would have taken you in, your father left your wardship to the crown. You will be eighteen on your next birthday, which is December fifth."

"How do you know all this?" Angel demanded, furious at having her privacy invaded. "I asked Lord Hundston," came his honest reply.

"Why?" She glared at him.

"I have told you why! I love you, Angel!" Dear heaven, how fair she is, Robin thought.

"My father killed my mother, who was unfaithful to him, and then took his own life," she said bluntly.

"Unfortunate," he answered, "but those things happen even in the best of families. My mother and Velvet's was in a Moroccan harem once."

"That doesn't happen in the best of families," Angel answered quickly, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lush mouth. "You are teasing me, aren't you? Trying to make me feel better?"

"No," he said. " 'Tis true."

"What do you want of me, my lord?" she queried him, still confused as to his motives. In her heart, she knew he was going to suggest something she could not countenance and she would offend him by refusing. How angry would he become? Would he forbid her to remain friends with his sister? Oh, Lord! He was so handsome. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

"I want you to be my wife," Robin said quietly.

"My lord, that is cruel!" she cried, and, to her surprise, her eyes filled with tears. Damn him! she thought. Damn him! Embarrassed she hid her face from him.

Southwood, however, would have none of it. Gently he turned her so that she was forced to face him. "Look up at me, my sweet Angel," he said softly. "I love you, dearest heart."

She stared at him as if he had gone mad. "You can't love me," she said. "Knowing facts about me is not really knowing me. Besides, you are the Earl of Lynmouth, one of England's most powerful and wealthy men. I am nothing in light of your family. What is the daughter of an impoverished second son of an unimportant baron to the Southwood family?"

"I am Southwood, Angel. There is no one to tell me yea or nay! I am my own master."

"You should marry a lady of equal wealth and family, my lord," she said softly. "Even I know that."

"I should marry the girl I love," he answered her, "and, my beautiful Angel, I love you beyond life itself! Marry me, my darling! Make me the happiest of men!"

Angel was now totally disconcerted. She had always thought that the queen would eventually make some sort of match for her, for she could not remain a royal charge forever. Angel had believed that the only asset she had to her name was her beauty. Her face, she had hoped, would win her a wealthy merchant, or perhaps an unimportant but pleasant nobleman. It had never occurred to her that someone like Robert Southwood would fall in love with her, and Angel, being the practical girl that she was, had never even considered aspiring to such heights.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her normally muted color was high in her excitement. She looked at Robin and said, "I don't know if I love you, and like Velvet I believe a girl should have some feeling for the man she marries." She bit her lower lip with some vexation. "This is totally unthinkable, my lord! What will your mother say to such a match? The queen will certainly not countenance it. Speak no further about it, I pray you. I shall forget you have even mentioned such a possibility, and then perhaps you will allow my friendship with your sister to continue. I will not embarrass you by repeating this incident. I promise."

Robin came perilously close to hugging Angel right then and there. "My mother married my father when she did not even know who she really was," he said quietly. "She had suffered a loss of memory. My father, however, loved her no matter who she was, and he married her. She might have been a murderess, but it mattered not to him. What did matter was that he loved her even as I love you, Angel. As for Her Majesty, my love, she will give her consent. Come with me now and we will ask her."

Angel looked aghast. "Now?" she cried. "At this time of evening?"

Robin grinned at her. "Yes, Angel Christman. Now! At this time of evening. You can ride pillion behind me to Ardern Hall." He took her firmly by the hand to lead her off, but Angel hung back.

"Velvet," she said. "Please ask Velvet to come with us."

"Very well." He smiled down at her. "Where do you think the minx has gotten to?" He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked down the garden. "Ah, there they are by the riverbank. Velvet! Alex!" he called.

They came toward him hand in hand, and Robin noted silently that his youngest sister was pleasingly flushed and his friend, Alex, looked relaxed and content. "Is everything all right, Robin?" Velvet inquired of him as they finally reached him.

"I have asked Angel to marry me, and, being the sweet child she is, she fears it is not at all a good enough match for me. She thinks the queen will not allow me to wed her, but I have explained that our mother wed my father under even more difficult circumstances with the queen's blessing. We are going to Ardern Hall now, and Angel wants your support."

"Do you love my brother?" Velvet was suddenly very protective of Robin. Men were such fools when it came to women. Dame Cecily had said it often enough.

"I-I don't know, Velvet," Angel answered honestly. "How can I know such a thing? I hardly know Lord Southwood."

"It's not important," said Robin with a wave of his hand. "I love her, and most matches do not take into account whether the parties involved love each other. Alison and I didn't love each other."

"You knew Alison all her life, Robin," said Velvet. "You have only just met Angel. Understand it is not just you I fear for, but also my dear friend, Angel. If this is some whim on your part, Robin, I shall be very angry."

"When have you ever known me to be deliberately unkind, Velvet?" he chided her gently. "I realize that love at first sight is a rare phenomenon, but it has happened to me with Angel. I will devote my life to making her happy if she will but give me the chance." His lime-green eyes were filled with such emotion that for a moment Velvet looked away in embarrassment. She had never known her brother to be this way.

She swallowed the little lump that had risen in her throat and, looking back at him, said, "Then, dammit, Robin, why are we standing here when we should be on the road to Ardern Hall!"

Alex looked from one to the other, amused. What charmingly willful people they were, these children of Skye O'Malley. Both assumed that all was settled because it suited them. Neither had bothered to consult the other person most definitely involved. He looked at the beautiful blond girl and said quietly, "And what say you about all of this, Mistress Angel Christman? Are you content to rush off into the night to ask the queen's permission to wed with the Earl of Lynmouth?"

"I think it is all madness, my lord," she replied with a smile, "but if the earl be serious in his intent toward me, I could not receive a better offer. It is indeed a magnificent offer for a maid in my position. I suppose I must be practical in any event."

Velvet looked somewhat shocked. "You would be practical in the matter of marriage, Angel? What of love? This is a lifetime we are speaking about!"

Angel sighed and smoothed her palms down over her rather plain gown. "Velvet, you were born an heiress. I do not have your choices. Yes, I want to love the man I marry, but if the queen gave me to a stranger, I could not refuse. In the little time I have known your brother he has shown himself to be a kind and gentle man of the most delicate breeding. He says he loves me, and I do not believe he is a man easily confused by his own feelings. In time I believe I can learn to love him, and that is as good a basis for a marriage as any maid in my position has ever had."

Robin put a protective arm about Angel and softly kissed the top of her golden head. "Thank you, sweetheart, for giving me your trust. I shall endeavor not to disappoint you. Now, little sister, if you are satisfied as to our intentions, may we be on our way?"

"Oh, no, my lord," said the blushing bride-to-be. "Not until I have changed my gown. I cannot appear before Her Majesty in this travel-worn garment. Will you help me, Velvet?"

"Aye," came her friend's reply. Then Velvet said to her brother, "I assume you can arrange a coach for us?"

"A coach?" Robin laughed. "I had thought to have you ladies ride pillion behind Alex and me."

"Pillion? Nay! We would arrive at Ardern Hall so covered with dust they would take us for gypsies! Angel and I have but one other dress apiece, and we will need them again tomorrow. You must find us a coach! I shall leave it to you, Robin. Come, Angel!" Her eyes twinkling, tossing her curls, Velvet took her friend's arm and led her back into the inn.

In the short time it took for Velvet to help Angel from her worn blue gown and relace her into the magnificent turquoise one that matched her eyes, Robin did manage to find them a coach. He also learned that the queen was supping with the Earl of Leicester in his tent in the middle of the army's camp.

It was but a few moments' ride from the Mermaid Inn to the encampment. Upon arriving, the young earl requested a brief audience with the queen, and a few mintues later the four were ushered into Dudley's quarters.

The queen was gowned in a magnificent black and gold dress, the bodice of which was covered with pearls. She smiled graciously and extended her hand to Robin and Alex. Once the men had paid their homage, it was the girls' turn to curtsy, which they did prettily and in unison.

"Well, now, my lord of Lynmouth," said Elizabeth, "what is so very important that it cannot wait until this business with the Spanish is over and done with?" She peered at him, genuinely curious.

Robin smiled warmly at his queen. "Do you remember, madame, when I first came to court to serve you and I cried for my mother? You told me then, in order to stop my weeping, that I might have anything of you that I desired. I was so enchanted at the time by the prospect of my queen giving me anything I wanted that I could not decide."

The queen laughed at the memory. "As I recall, my lord Southwood, I then said that the offer was an open one; a promise from me to thee that might be claimed at any time. Tis that not correct?"

"Aye, madame. Your memory does not fail you."

"I should hope not!" The queen chuckled. "I am not yet so old that I grow forgetful." She peered at him again. "So you have finally decided after almost twenty years have passed what it is you would have of me, Robert Southwood. Is that not it?"

"Aye, madame, I have finally decided, and I come before Your Gracious Majesty to ask for the hand in marriage of your royal ward, Angel Christman."

The queen's surprised glance swung to Angel as she attempted to exercise her memory once again. There were several royal wards. Who was this one? Ah, yes! Her eyes lit up. "You are aware that the maid is penniless, my lord. She will bring you nothing but her maidenhead if you have not stolen it already."

Angel flushed crimson, and Robin quickly said, "Nay, madame! I have far too much respect for Angel's reputation to compromise her."

The queen smiled, a trifle bitterly, Velvet thought, and said, "You may look like Southwood, but you are your mother's son in many ways, my lord. I believe you when you tell me that you have had a care for the girl's honor. It is an incredible offer you make to Mistress Christman. What, however, will your mother say to such a match when she returns from her voyage? Will she approve? I wonder."

"Yes!" he said firmly.

The queen laughed again. "Aye, you are right. She will be glad, I have not a doubt, to see you happily settled, for Skye O'Malley has always been a woman for a happy ending. Very well, Robert Southwood, Earl of Lynmouth, you may marry my royal ward, Angel Christman. When may we expect to be invited to your wedding?"

"I would wed Angel as quickly as possible, madame. I see no point in waiting. Neither of us have parents here to satisfy, and there is no dowry to be worked out."

Elizabeth Tudor nodded. "Tonight!" she said. "You will be married tonight by my own chaplain, and my lord Dudley shall give the bride away! Yes! Tonight! It shall be a good omen for England! A beginning, not an end!"

"Madame!" Robin was astounded. "You are most gracious!"

"Dudley!" the queen snapped. "Get off your skinny backside and fetch my personal chaplain! Then find some posies for this child to carry!"

Angel stood, stunned with surprise. It was all happening so quickly. Less than an hour ago she had found herself facing a proposal from a wealthy and powerful man. Now she was to find herself married in less than another hour. What was happening to her? She began to tremble with fright until Velvet pinched her fiercely.

"Courage, you little ninny!" her friend hissed. "The queen honors you. Where is the feisty sparrow I knew when I first came to court? If you swoon, I shall never forgive you, Angel!"

"Look who advises me about marriage!" Angel snapped back, the blood beginning to flow hot in her veins once more. "The runaway bride herself!"

Velvet grinned mischievously at her friend. "Good!" she said. "You have returned to yourself again. I hope you're not going to be one of those wives who hangs on to every word her husband says. God's nightshirt, Angel, be yourself! Alison was one of those simpering idiots!"

"Perhaps that is why he is in love with me," replied Angel in a slightly stricken voice.

"Nay! You're nothing like Alison de Grenville. Dying was the wisest thing she ever did," Velvet said harshly. "Robin was already beginning to be bored with her though he knew it not at the time."

"Come here to me, child," said the queen, beckoning to Angel. When the two girls had moved to the queen's side, she asked, "How long have you been a royal ward, Angel Christman?"

"I came to court when I was just a little past five, madame. I shall be eighteen my next birthday."

"So young," murmured the queen. "You were so young to lose your parents, but then I was younger when I lost my mother. I hope you have not been lonely, my child."

"Oh, no, madame! Your court was a wonderful place in which to grow up. Had I not been at court, I should not have had any of the wonderful advantages that I received by being part of it. I have been taught to read, and to write, and to figure. I can both speak and read Latin, French, and Greek. I am proficient with the lute although I have never owned one. The strings are so expensive."

"You like music?" The queen was suddenly interested in this lovely girl who was about to rise from the ranks of the unimportant royal wards to the station of an important noblewoman.

"Oh, yes, madame, very much. I would like to learn to play the virginal, although I dare not aspire to Your Majesty's talent."

The queen smiled. The girl was quick despite her fluffy beauty. That was good, for she would be an asset to Lord Southwood. " 'Tis said I have a talent for the virginal," Elizabeth remarked dryly.

At that moment Lord Dudley returned, bearing with him a small bouquet of pale pink wild roses, daisies, and some sprigs of lavender. " 'Tis the best I could do, Bess, stamping about the edges of the camp in the dark looking for flowers!" He thrust them out to her.

The queen removed a gold ribbon from her sleeve and tied it around the bouquet. Then, taking it from the Earl of Leicester, she presented it to Angel. "There, my child, though your own beauty far outshines that of the flowers. Now, dammit, where is the chaplain?"

"Here, madame." The cleric stepped foward.

"I wish Lord Southwood and his betrothed to be wed here and now," said the queen. "Waive the bans."

"Of course, madame," came his smooth reply. "Might I have the names of the parties involved?"

"Robert Geoffrey James Henry Southwood," said the queen with a chuckle. "He is one of my many godchildren, and Lord Dudley's also. It has been more years than I care to remember since he was baptized, but, nonetheless, I do."

Robin smiled. "You are truly amazing, madame," he said.

"Humph!" said the queen with a little snort. Then she turned to the bride. "What is your full name, child?"

"Angel Aurora Elizabeth, madame. I am told my grandmother insisted I be called Angel because she thought I looked like one. Aurora was my mother's suggestion because I was born at dawn. Elizabeth was for Your Majesty."

"You were named for me?"

"So I remember being told, madame."

The queen nodded, pleased, and then said, "Well, Father, let us begin."

What a funny place to have a wedding, thought Velvet as she stood listening to the cleric droning the marriage service. Here they all stood, in the middle of the lieutenant general's tent on a potential battlefield. The startled servants had cleared away the table where the queen and Dudley had eaten earlier. It now stood against one side of the tent. Above, the lamps cast warm golden shadows. The hurriedly summoned cleric was plainly garbed without vestments of any kind. The bride stood in the only decent gown she possessed, clutching a hastily gathered bouquet. Thank heavens Angel had refused to come before the queen before she changed, thought Velvet.

It really was a lovely gown, and Velvet was especially glad of the impulse that had caused her to share her own bounty with Angel and Bess. Bonnie had made the dress as if she had been doing it for Velvet herself. The underskirt was striped in narrow bands of gold and turquoise, the bodice embroidered with freshwater pearls and tiny crystal beads, the sleeves beribboned with silk bows. What no one but Velvet knew was that beneath the gown the bride's stockings were darned neatly in several places and her shoes were almost worn through. Just before the simple service began, she had thought to loose Angel's long golden hair so that it hung unbound almost to her waist. It was like a shimmering veil. Angel really was an exquisite bride.

"I pronounce thee husband and wife," said the queen's chaplain.

For a long and silent moment, Robert Southwood looked down into Angel's radiant face, and then, smiling, he kissed her lips sweetly and briefly. Angel then found herself kissed by Lord Dudley, the queen, and Lord Gordon. She blushed rosily. Velvet gave her friend an enormous hug, whispering as she did so, "I am so glad we are now sisters, dear Angel!"

The queen's servants hurried forth with goblets of sweet Malmsey wine and thin sugar wafers, which they passed to all assembled. "It is a poor wedding that does not offer its guests a loving cup," declared Elizabeth.

"I am a poor bride," Angel said, but she smiled as she looked down at her husband's ring with the Southwood family crest now on her finger. When the cleric had asked for the ring, they had suddenly realized they hadn't one, and Robin had drawn his own ring from his finger to use as the wedding band. Later, he had promised, she would have a proper one.

"Nay, child. You must be dowered properly, and since you have been my royal ward all these years, it is my duty to see it done," the queen told her. "For each of the thirteen years you have been in my care and charge there will be a hundred gold pieces, plus an additional two hundred as my bridal gift to you. Finally, my lady Southwood—" and here the queen smiled at the sudden look of delight that passed over Angel's face—"I present to you this necklace." The queen reached up and unfastened from about her own neck a small, exquisite necklace of pale pink diamonds set in gold. "For you, child," she said, and, turning Angel, she fastened it about the startled girl's throat.

Angel's hands flew to her face, and then one hand stole to her neck to feel the necklace now lying there. "Madame … madame …" she stammered, feeling totally foolish at her inability to say thank you. No one in her entire life had ever been so kind to her. Never! The queen reached out to pat her cheek, and then, raising her goblet, said, "Once long ago I raised my glass to Geoffrey Southwood on the occasion of his marriage to Skye O'Malley. As I recall, I arranged that wedding, too! It seems to be a royal custom of mine seeing that Southwoods are married off safely. Good health, long life, and many children to you both. God bless you, my dears!" Then she drank, and the others drank with her.

Shortly afterward, the queen departed back to Ardern Hall , and the four young people returned to the Mermaid. This time Robin insisted that Angel ride before him on his horse, so Velvet was left to herself in the coach. The moon was waning, but the night sky was bright with myriad stars. Alex rode discreetly ahead of his friend, giving the newlyweds some measure of privacy.

Robin Southwood couldn't ever remember being so happy in his entire life. All of his days he had been privileged and pampered, but marriage to this lovely creature who was now nestled in his arms meant more to him than anything else he had ever had. He could feel her trembling ever so slightly against him and it distressed him that she was afraid. He would not openly address her fear, for he knew it would embarrass her, and so he sought to distract her.

"When we go back up to London, we shall go to my mother's warehouses along the river and find all kinds of wonderful materials to be made into gowns for you, my darling. You are surely the most beautiful girl ever born, and a beautiful gem should have an equally beautiful setting. You will let me help you choose, won't you? I picture you in jewel colors, for they will be perfect with your exquisite pink-and-white complexion."

"You are most kind, my lord," came her soft reply, but her head remained turned away.

"Look at me, Angel. Do you know that you have never looked me directly in the eye? Look at me now, my lady Southwood."

She turned and blinded him with the flash of her marvelous turquoise eyes. There was a small smile on her lips. "Lady Southwood," she said softly. "I am, aren't I? I really am!"

He grinned back at her. "You are, Angel. You are most assuredly my lady, Angel Southwood, Countess of Lynmouth, married in the sight of God, Her Majesty the queen, and by the queen's chaplain."

"Oh, my lord, what have we done?"

"Nothing yet," he replied mischievously, then chuckled as she colored a most becoming rose. "Now, madame, I shall issue you my first husbandly order. Will you please call me Robin, my darling wife?"

"Are you sure we haven't made a dreadful mistake … Robin?"

"No, my lovely Angel, we have not made any mistake. Even the queen knew this rather hasty marriage was right. I love you, and I hope in the days to come that I can teach you to love me. You must never be fearful of me, Angel. You must never be afraid to speak your mind or to ask of me what you will. I will always listen to you. Now before we arrive back at the inn I would discuss tonight with you."

"Tonight?"

"Our wedding night, but, dear Angel, if you prefer, it is a time that may be postponed until you learn to know me better. The choice is yours to make, sweetheart."

She was silent for what seemed to him a very long time, and then she spoke in a soft voice that he had to bend over her to hear. "I know you a great deal better than you would believe, Robin, for Velvet loves you dearly and has always spoken of you. I know that you will not hurt me, for you have always been wondrously kind. I cannot, however, think of a more fitting way," she finished mischievously, "for us to get to know one another better than to celebrate our wedding night as it should be celebrated. One thing I would warn you of, however. Despite my years at court, I am truly a virgin, and not particularly knowledgeable. I only ask that you be patient with me."

"It never occurred to me that you would not be a virgin, Angel," came his quiet reply.

It was at this point that they arrived at the inn, and, quickly dismounting, Robin lifted his bride from the saddle. Hand in hand, they entered the building and made their way upstairs to the rooms that the earl had booked earlier. It had been planned that Velvet and Angel would share one of the bedchambers while the gentlemen slept in the other. Now Robin led his wife into that second room, stopping only long enough to remove Alex's saddlebag and place it in the small parlor where they had eaten earlier. Once in the bedchamber with Angel, he closed the door and threw the bolt.

"I—I have no nightgown," she said.

"There is no need," he answered, and then, pulling her into his arms, he kissed her passionately, not even hearing the door to the parlor open and close outside.

"They can't be here already," said Velvet. "Surely they would have waited for us, Alex."

His eye lit upon the saddlebag. "They are here, Velvet."

"Oh, good! Let us have the innkeeper make a caudle cup, and we shall drink to the bridal couple's good health!" She moved to the door, but he blocked her path.

"Nay, lass. The bedchamber door is shut, and I do not think Robin would welcome our intrusion at this time."

"But there's been no caudle cup! 'Tis a poor bridal ceremony without a celebration."

Alex smiled. "Many a couple has done without the caudle cup, Velvet. There are other things more important to a bridal couple on their wedding night."

She snorted, but then a slow flush crept up her neck and into her face. "Oh," she said helplessly.

Alex chuckled. "Go to bed, lass. The queen reviews the troops on the morrow, and that should be something to tell your gran-children one fine day."

"Where will you sleep?" she asked, realizing his predicament.

"Out here on the floor by the fire," he said. "I've laid my head in worse places in my time, lass. Good night."

The night had grown chill, and Velvet wasted little time in unlacing her gown, removing it and creeping beneath the covers wearing only her chemisette. Outside the tiny window she could hear the cricket songs, soothing and cheerful. Beyond her door she heard Alex moving about for a short while and guessed from the friendly crackle that he had built up the fire in the little fireplace. She smiled wryly, considering the possibility of changing places with him: her cold bed for his floor by the fire.

She was just dozing off when a short, piercing cry rent the quiet. Trembling, she sat up, listening intently. It had been such a piteous cry. Where had it come from? Then she heard a low moaning and realized that it came from the other bedchamber.

With a little sob, she leaped from the bed and fled out into the parlor straight into a protective pair of warm arms. She couldn't seem to stop shaking. Alex gently lifted her up, then cradled her in his arms as he sat down in a chair by the fire. He said nothing, waiting instead until she had quieted. Finally she gazed up at him, saying, "Did you not hear that terrible cry, Alex? Then I heard moaning through the wall. It gave me such a fright. Is this place haunted?"

"Nay, lass. 'Tis not haunted. I imagine the cry you heard was your friend, Angel."

"Why would she cry out as if hurt? Robin would never hurt her!" Velvet protested.

" 'Tis not a hurt a man inflicts willingly upon a maid, lass."

"I don't understand," was her reply. "What do you mean?"

There was simply no delicate way for him to put it, and besides, he thought somewhat irritably, he should not be the one to have to explain such things to her, yet now he had no choice. "Your friend cried out when Robin pierced her maidenhead," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, God," she whispered, and he could hear the fear in her voice. Then she began to tremble again.

"It only happens once, Velvet," he said, helplessly attempting to calm her fears, and his arms tightened about her.

"I am so afraid, Alex," she said. "I am so afraid of this wild Scots earl who demands marriage of me. My mother has never explained to me how it is between a man and a woman. Oh, I've watched the animals at the farm mate, but 'tis not the same for people, is it? Oh, Alex! I feel such a fool!"

"Velvet, Velvet," he murmured at her soothingly. " 'Twill be all right, lass, you're nae a fool for not knowing what lovemaking is. You're but a maid, and your earl will be glad of it, sweetheart."

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. She looked so very young and woebegone that his heart almost burst with the love he felt for her. Her next words startled him.

"Make love to me, Alex," she said softly.

"Velvet lass!"

"Make love to me," she repeated. "You're my friend, Alex. You showed me kissing. Now I want you to make love to me so that I will know what to expect." She was very serious, and he resisted the urge to chuckle bubbling within him.

"Sweetheart," he said patiently, "it would not be right for me to take what is rightfully another man's. A maidenhead can be only lost once."

Now it was Velvet's turn to giggle. "I didn't mean that," she said. "Surely there is more to lovemaking than just that." She looked at him questioningly.

Alex felt his heart leap with excitement within him. Every time he was with her now, he found himself wanting more than just the sweetness of her lips. "Do you trust me enough, Velvet, to accept my word when I tell you we have gone far enough along Eros's road?"

She nodded, her eyes wide, her face solemn as a small owl's. Deep inside, he repressed a hard shudder. She was so damningly innocent and so incredibly tempting a tidbit. He envied Robin, who was now making love to his bride. This lovely girl in his lap was his betrothed wife under the law and he longed to tell her the truth, to take her into the other bedchamber and initiate her into the many arts of Venus. Instinctively he knew she would be an apt pupil.

"Well?" Her voice pierced his consciousness, and she looked up at him curiously.

Brazen little minx, he thought, amused. Then, with a swift motion, he opened her chemisette and, sliding it over her silky shoulders, bared her to the waist. Velvet gasped with surprise at this bold maneuver, and Alex's head swooped down as his mouth found hers in a blazing kiss. A ball of fire burst within her stomach and spread flaming throughout her whole body. His lips worked on hers, teasing them open, and, with a swift movement, his tongue touched hers. Her heart hammered wildly in her ears as his tongue's warm smoothness caressed the inside of her mouth, touching her sensitive flesh, running along her teeth. He had never kissed her like that before, and Velvet, though a little bit frightened, found it wildly exciting.

Then his big hand began to caress her satiny flesh, smoothing the roundness of her shoulder, sliding down her long arms, moving up her bared torso to cup a breast. She thought that she Would faint right then and there. An incredible, aching warmth began to seep through her veins. When Kit Marlowe had touched her, she had wanted to die from the shame and frustration of her anger and helplessness, but this was different. Alex's hand was gentle, loving. She knew that should she ask him to stop at any moment he would comply with her wishes. She did not, however, want him to stop, and that in itself was puzzling to her.

"Dear heaven, lass, but ye are so beautiful!" She heard his voice mutter thickly in her ear. Her head fell back, and his lips slowly kissed the long line of her throat; his hand tangled in her auburn hair, cupping her head as his lips found hers once more. She was conscious of his hand touching her breasts again, his fingers gently teasing her nipples until they thrust forward, throbbing with the sweet torment he was inflicting upon them.

Velvet shivered with pure excitement. If this was lovemaking, it was wondrously sweet. With a sigh of rapture, she tried to move closer to him. The arm that had been cradling her head moved down to encircle her waist. The hand that had played with her young breasts now slipped down beneath her chemisette. Then he slowly began to move it upward again, sliding it easily along the smooth skin of her long legs. For a moment, she considered the lightness of his actions, but honeyed heat once more raced through her veins, rendering her helpless to impede his movements. Her consciousness became peopled by a thousand small, fluttering butterflies, and she was only aware of the pleasure he offered her.

As he stroked the softness of her inner thighs, Alex knew that he must stop. Already he was perilously near to losing his own control. His manhood ached with longing for Velvet, and he was regretting that he had ever let the wench tease him into this. Better he had waited until their marriage, when the natural conclusion of such loveplay could be effected. Slowly he removed his hand from beneath her garment and held her close.

"Enough, lass," he said quietly. "I can bear no more and keep my promise to preserve yer honor. Ye're ripe as a peach, Velvet, and I am hungry to pluck yer fruit."

"Please, Alex, just love me a little while longer. I hurt with such a strange wanting."

He kissed her gently. "Nay, sweetheart. Remember yer promise to me. We must stop now." Quietly he redid her chemisette, pulling it up and tying the little silk ribbons.

She signed. "Will you love me again soon, Alex?"

"Aye," he whispered, and then with a sigh of his own, he rose to his feet, holding her against his heart. Without another word, he returned her to her bed and, tucking the coverlet about her, left the room, firmly closing the door behind him.

Velvet lay in the darkness for what seemed a long while, reliving over and over again his every touch, his every kiss. She wanted to rise from the bed and run back to him, but she knew she couldn't. She could barely await the morning when she might see him again. Dear heaven! she thought. Am I falling in love with Alex? It was her last conscious thought before sleep overtook her.

The innkeeper called them early in the morning, for the queen was to address the troops, and all the court was to be present. As a Maid of Honor, Velvet had to be in attendance on Her Majesty that day. As the new Countess of Lynmouth, Angel would be by her husband's side in a prominent place amongst the courtiers. In their hurry to get ready, they needed to help each other dress, and any awkwardness that might have been between them was forgotten in the rush. Neither girl could eat the sumptuous breakfast that had been ordered, although Alex and Robin both ate with fierce appetites the eggs poached in heavy cream and marsala wine, the thick slices of pink ham, the loaf of hot bread that each slathered with freshly churned butter and plum preserves. Green apple cider, freshly pressed from the early apples, served to wash their meal down.

"How can you eat like that?" grumbled Velvet at the two men.

"It's positively disgusting at so early an hour!"

"Sun's up," said Robin with a grin, "and besides I find I have a monstrous appetite this morning for some reason." He sent Angel a passionate look, and she blushed furiously and scolded him.

"Fie, my lord, to tease me so!" But her voice was sweet, and the look she sent her bridegroom equally so.

"And what is your excuse, Alex Gordon?" demanded Velvet, somewhat irritably. For some reason she did not share their good humor.

"When one cannot satisfy one appetite, one satisfies another," he said calmly as he buttered another piece of bread. "More cider, Rob?"

Velvet retreated to her small bedchamber and, flinging open the tiny window, leaned out. It was a glorious summer's day, this eighth day of August. She sighed deeply.

"Are you all right, Velvet?" Angel had come into the room behind her and gently shut the door.

Velvet turned from her view of the inn garden. "Are you all right?" she demanded a trifle nervously.

"Why, yes!" Angel exclaimed. "Why would you worry about me?"

"I heard you …" Velvet blushed scarlet. "I mean after last night …" The color came into her face and neck once more. "What I mean is, did my brother hurt you?"

Angel's eyes suddenly lit with understanding. Poor Velvet. She was so innocent, but then so had Angel been until last night when her bridegroom had introduced her to delights not even previously imagined. Angel put an arm around her friend's shoulders. "Robin would never hurt me. He is the kindest, gentlest man alive."

"Are you falling in love with him?"

"Velvet, it is much too soon for me to know such a thing, but I believe that I shall be able to love him in time. For now, I respect him, and I am grateful that the good Lord has given me such a good and kind husband." She smiled at Velvet. "What a dear sister you will be to me, Velvet, and having never had a sister I shall appreciate you very much."

"Am I a fool, Angel?"

"Nay, my dearest. I love you for worrying and caring."

The two girls then saw to their last-minute toilette as, outside the bedchamber door, Robin exhorted his wife and sister to hurry. Arm in arm, they exited the inn, both looking beautiful, Angel in her turquoise gown and Velvet in an exquisite creation of yellow brocade, the underskirt and the sleeves embroidered with black butterflies. Today the queen was allowing her maids to wear their most elegant gowns instead of their usual virginal white.

Outside the inn they found not the coach that Velvet had expected her brother to supply, but four fine mounts that would take them to Tilbury Plain where the army had assembled to hear the queen. The Earl of Lynmouth assured his sister that as they would be riding slowly there would be little danger of the dust ruining their lovely gowns. Then Robin lifted his bride up onto the saddle of a gentle bay-colored mare, smiling as he did so. Velvet saw a soft, intimate look pass between them.

As she turned away, Alex put his hands about her tiny waist and lifted her into her own saddle. Their eyes met for a long moment, and she felt herself quiver ever so slightly beneath his firm grip. He said nothing, but in his eyes was a look she could not fathom. Then he reached up as she settled herself and gently touched her cheek. Velvet felt suddenly and unaccountably shy of this man whom she claimed as a friend, with whom she had shared a first kiss, and far more. Her brother and his bride, however, noticed nothing, for they were far too involved in themselves.

The gentlemen mounted their own horses, and together the two couples began the short ride to Tilbury Plain. A quarter of a mile from the encampment they met with the queen's party, and Velvet detached herself to join the other Maids of Honor. Bess, looking pretty and spirited in her scarlet gown, greeted her gaily.

"Is it true?" she demanded.

"Is what true?" Velvet replied.

"Is it true about Angel? That your brother has taken her for his mistress? 'Tis all over the court this morning!"

Velvet was shocked. "My brother, the Earl of Lynmouth, and Angel Christman were wed last night."

"Is that what they told you?" One of the Maids of Honor, Leonore D'Arcy, rumored to be a particularly promiscuous girl, laughed. "Lord bless me, Velvet, you are still a country mouse if you believe that! One can hardly blame Mistress Christman as your brother is wealthy and handsome. With no fortune or great name such as we have, the poor girl could hardly be expected to make an advantageous match." She laughed again.

"I would not speak that way before the queen if I were you, Mistress D'Arcy, for my brother and his bride were married in the queen's own presence by the queen's own chaplain," snapped Velvet. How she disliked these catty young courtiers. "I should know for I was there!"

"They were?" This was chorused by all the Maids of Honor who now crowded around Velvet's mount.

"Indeed they were," replied Velvet sweetly. "The Earl of Leicester was also there, as was my brother's friend, Lord Gordon. Angel Christman is now Angel Southwood, the Countess of Lynmouth."

"God's nightcap!" said Bess, who rarely swore. "How did this all happen?"

"For Robin, it was love at first sight. He saw Angel for the first time several weeks ago at his fête for the queen, and he would not rest afterward until he had made her his wife."

"Oh, how romantic!" Bess said soulfully. "How very fortunate they do not have to worry about offending the queen, for if they were married by her own chaplain then she must approve the match."

"Why, Bess, do you have some secret love who is the queen's favorite perhaps?" mocked the D'Arcy girl. "You daren't set Water afire, I'm told."

Bess Throckmorton whitened and glanced forward to where the queen rode with Leicester and Essex. She was terrified lest Elizabeth Tudor hear the thoughtless words of Leonore D'Arcy. Bess was hopelessly in love with Walter Ralegh, and he with her, but neither dared to jeopardize their position at court, for their very livelihoods depended upon the queen's favor and goodwill.

"I wonder if Her Majesty knows that you've been tumbling Anthony Bacon?" murmured Velvet innocently, never even glancing at the D'Arcy girl.

"That's a foul lie!"

"Not according to the Earl of Essex, my dear. He says you are a most prodigiously hot piece, but you sell your favors far too cheaply considering your ancient and powerful name."

The other girls in the queen's train began to giggle. This was a delicious piece of gossip, and Leonore D'Arcy wasn't particularly well liked while Bess Throckmorton was loved and respected. Most had guessed Bess's secret, but never discussed it amongst themselves, fearing to spoil what they all considered a sweetly tragic romance. Silently they applauded Velvet's wickedly sharp words, though none would have dared to challenge the D'Arcy heiress themselves.

"I'd expect you to defend Bess," sneered Leonore D'Arcy. "She may be poor, but her family is influential, and yours is certainly not, though they be vulgarly rich. You need her influence here at court, for your own father is of little importance, and your mother, I am told, is a common Irish pirate forbidden to even come to court."

"You confuse my mama with our cousin, Grace O'Malley, who is most definitely not common, though she be called a pirate," Velvet said brightly. "As to needing anyone's influence, I don't. Money, dear Mistress D'Arcy, is the mightiest influence. I choose my friends for their amiability. Since I am a great heiress, I have that option."

"Please," pleaded Bess, "let us not quarrel amongst ourselves in this time of such great mortal danger for our dear queen and our beloved England."

A murmur of assent arose from the other girls, and, outnumbered, Leonore D'Arcy ceased her sniping. Velvet looked fondly at Bess and, leaning over, patted her friend's hand. Bess smiled gratefully back at the younger girl.

Ahead, Elizabeth Tudor rode like an Amazon queen. She was mounted upon a huge white gelding with dappled gray hindquarters. The animal had been a gift to her from Robert Cecil, Lord Burghley's younger son. Cleverly the queen had chosen to wear virginal white. The velvet gown had a satin underskirt embroidered with silver Tudor roses, and the sleeves were festooned with white silk bows that had Indian pearl centers. As her hair was beginning to thin, she wore a fiery bright red wig into which she had stuck two white plumes. Because of her council's fear of assassination, she also wore a decorated silver breastplate over the bodice of her gown, and in her right hand she carried a silver truncheon chased in gold. There was no doubt that she was a most inspiring and queenly sight to all who saw her, and the men cheered and shouted themselves hoarse, particularly when they saw that she meant to come amongst them without fear, accompanied by only a few gentlemen. The rest of her train had now stopped, remaining on the edge of the vast crowd of soldiers.

Erect and proud upon her beautiful mount, Elizabeth Tudor advanced, reining her horse in every now and then to accept their wild and fiercely loyal acclaim. Finally, deep within the center of her army, she stopped. Around her was a sea of English faces, faces representing every walk of life from the highest to the lowest. Great lords rubbed elbows with merchants and butchers, farmers with cobblers, blacksmiths with rich landowners. There were old and young faces that looked adoringly up at her, and the queen felt a surge of pride for these wonderfully loyal Englishmen who were assembled to defend her, to defend their homeland. She let them cheer for several long minutes, then, with a dramatic gesture, she held up a gloved hand, the sunlight flashing off her truncheon.

On Tilbury Plain it grew deathly quiet, and the Queen of England spoke from her heart to her army.

"My loving people, we have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you, I do not desire to live in distrust of my faithful and loving people." Elizabeth paused and glanced with some amusement at her breastplate. "Let tyrants fear! I have always so behaved myself that under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and goodwill in the loyal hearts and goodwill of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all; to lay down for God, my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a King, and a King of England too, and think it foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any Prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be General, Judge, and Rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field.

"I know already for your forwardness you have deserved rewards, and crowns; and we do assure you, on the word of a Prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the meantime, my Lieutenant General shall be in my stead, than whom never Prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but that by your obedience to my General, by your concord in the camp and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over these enemies of my God, my Kingdom, and of my People!" *

As she finished, she thrust her truncheon upward and the field erupted in a roar of cheers. Hats were thrown skyward, men clapped each other on the shoulders, thrilled by Elizabeth Tudor's words. Now even the poorest, weakest Englishman could face the proudest Spaniard and totally destroy him. There wasn't a man there that day who would not have willingly laid down his life for the queen. Religion played no part in this for any of them. Catholic or Protestant, they adored her to a man. That day more than any day in her reign, Elizabeth Tudor was England!

Though impressive in their drilling and unsurpassed in their loyalty, as it turned out Elizabeth Tudor's soldiers were not called upon to fight the invading Spanish that day. After almost two weeks of anguishing suspense, word finally reached the queen that her navy had successfully broken the Armada in a fiery battle that had taken place on the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth of July.

That Sunday night, a single gun had been fired from the British flagship Ark Royal. Silently, manned by volunteer crews, fireships had set off from the English fleet, towing behind them the little dinghies that would evacuate the brave crews when their work was done. With wind and tide both running fast behind them, the blazing ships bore down on the Spanish, creating total panic. Though the Duke of Medina-Sidona kept his head and took orderly evasive action, the majority of Spanish captains panicked, cut their anchor cables, and fled out to sea. Many collided in the darkness and were swept onto the beaches of France, where they were plundered by English and French alike, and their unfortunate crews killed.

To the east of Calais, off the Flemish coast, lay a line of concealed sandbars, the Banks of Zeeland. It was here that the Spanish Armada had found itself at daybreak on Monday, July 29. Drake, most familiar with the area, led the attack from the west to the Armada's rear. Again and again they passed the defending Spanish galleons, exposing them to heavy fire from the fleet's guns. Almost half the seamen on Medina-Sidona's flagship, the San Martin , were killed; the ship's decks were strewn with the dying.

Over and over again the English pounded the Spanish: Drake in his ship Revenge , Hawkins in Victory , Frobisher in Triumph , Seymour in Rainbow , Winter in Vanguard , Fenton in Mary Rose , Lord Admiral Howard in Ark Royal , and that amazing old gentleman from Cheshire who had been knighted upon the lord admiral's flagship with Hawkins and Frobisher only three days prior, eighty-nine-year-old Sir George Beeston in his ship Dreadnought. Fiercely, England's brave and gallant captains, amid the dense smoke and deafening gunfire, ravaged the mighty Armada. It had been an incredible victory, and by day's end not a single Spanish ship remained capable of fighting. The English ceased their firing, however, only because they had run out of ammunition. They had no real idea of the fantastic victory they had just won.

That night the wind shifted, blowing the Armada back onto the dreaded Zeeland banks. The Spanish were in danger of being totally wrecked. By dawn, the Spanish pilots were sounding depths of six fathoms, and all could see the waves breaking over the ever-closing shoals. In order to save the lives of the twenty thousand men still alive aboard the remaining Spanish ships, an offer of surrender had been prepared, to be carried by pinnace to the English. Close to midday, however, the wind shifted to the southwest, and the battered Spanish ships, their tattered sails filling with wind, were able to turn northward, running past the approaches to the river Thames and the port of Harwich. All the while, as the broken Armada made its escape, it was shadowed by the English fleet. On Friday, August 2, the winds shifted to the northeast. Short on rations, practically out of water, the English turned back for home, convinced that further pursuit was unnecessary. From the bodies of the drowned livestock thrown overboard by the Spanish, it was concluded that their enemy was also crucially short of rations and water.

In England no one had any idea of the great defeat visited upon the Spanish. The English fleet had sent no word of their victory to Elizabeth, for even they were not entirely certain that they had fully overcome the Armada. No one, it seemed, wanted the responsibility of crying success lest failure overtake them yet. Instead, they had continued to pursue their enemy, driving them farther from England, farther toward their ultimate destruction, while in England preparations had continued for war, for invasion, until at last the news of her navy's triumph reached the queen.

* Elizabeth Tudor's actual speech on Tilbury Plain.