Chapter 7

T he new year of Our Lord fifteen hundred and eighty-nine was ushered in with relief in England. No longer did the threat of the Armada hang over Elizabeth Tudor's realm.

The queen and her court looked forward eagerly to the Earl and Countess of Lynmouth's Twelfth Night masque. It had been over twenty years since Lynmouth House on the Strand had opened its doors to the festivities made so famous by Robin's late father, Geoffrey Southwood.

Angel, just beginning to thicken slightly at the waistline, had appealed to her sisters-in-law to help her with the many preparations. The young countess, having been raised at court, knew exactly what needed be be done, but such an enormous undertaking required several cool heads. Willow, whose approval of Angel grew daily, was delighted and threw herself into the melee with enthusiasm. Velvet, on the other hand, was as untried a hostess as Angel, and far more interested in what she would wear than all the many tasks to be done in order to entertain the queen and the other guests.

"You'd best pay attention to all of this," the Countess of Alcester scolded her youngest sister. "After all, you may be called upon to entertain King James once you're in Scotland."

"Their court isn't as formal," responded Velvet.

"Does that mean you'll forget your upbringing?" Willow looked shocked. "Mama may be Irish, but she never forgets that she bears an English title, and she behaves accordingly."

"Mama behaves as it pleases her to behave." Velvet laughed. "You can't deny it, sister. Even the queen says it!"

Willow harrumphed, but the corners of her mouth twitched with private amusement. She always wondered how it was that she, the daughter of an Irish rebel and a Spanish nobleman, had turned into such a proper Englishwoman. Then she remembered her own upbringing, which had been overseen for the most part by Dame Cecily. Her poor mother with her adventurous life had had very little to do with Willow despite the fact that Skye adored her firstborn daughter. There had been a strong bond between Dame Cecily and Willow from her birth, and Skye, loving her daughter enough to want what was best for her, had given Willow over to the childless Englishwoman who loved the girl as if she were her own.

Willow looked at her sister again. Sweet, spoilt Velvet, who had been so very much loved and so dearly cosseted by both her parents, was really far too young to be a wife. She had no real sense of responsibility, but there was no malice in her at all. Well, Willow thought, she's not a stupid girl. She'll learn quickly. Then she said, "Tell me about your costumes. You first, Angel, for you're the hostess. Lord, how I remember Mama's gowns and Geoffrey's elegance. No one could ever learn what they were to wear in advance, and then the following year there would be at least half a dozen imitations of their previous year's costumes." She laughed at the memory.

Angel smiled. "Robin is to come as the sun, and I shall be his sky. My gown is the most exquisite shade of blue!"

Willow clapped her hands delightedly. "Perfect!" she said. "Blue is definitely your color, Angel." She turned to her sister. "What of you, Velvet? What will be your costume?"

"Nay, you first," countered Velvet. "I can well imagine how James feels about a costume masque, being more a country gentleman than a courtier."

Willow nodded ruefully. "Aye, 'tis true, but I have managed to persuade him, and he has given in with good grace to me. I shall come as a perfect English spring day, and James will come as a perfect English spring night."

"What does a perfect English spring night wear?" Velvet giggled.

"Black velvet," came the practical reply. "James's doublet, however, will be sewn with silver thread, pearls, and small diamonds in a design of stars and the moon."

"How clever you are!" exclaimed Angel.

"Aye," agreed Willow. "The very simplicity of the costume was what decided him. One has to know how to handle a man. It is all really quite easy."

"Depending upon the man," said Velvet. "Now your James and certainly our brother, Robin, are biddable men. But my lord Gordon is surely the most stubborn male ever created by our Lord God. He refuses to wear any silly folderol, as he has put it to me. He says he will wear his plaid instead, as he suspects that none of the queen's court will have seen full Highland regalia. That is the best I can do with him. He is impossible."

"What will you come as then, Velvet?" said Angel.

Velvet smiled mischievously. "I shall be fire," she replied. "Blazing, furious fire! I have had it planned for weeks, of course, and knowing it, Alex presented me with the most marvelous necklace and earbobs of rubies for New Year's. Every woman in court will envy me, my dears, perhaps even the queen herself!"

"He's most generous, isn't he?" noted Willow. "Diamonds and rubies for Christmas, and now more rubies for New Year's. It would seem you're a woman who inspires jewelry, like Mama."

For a moment Velvet's face grew somber. "I do miss Mama, Willow! Will this winter never end? How I look forward to the spring and the return of my parents! There is so much that has happened since they left for the Indies two years ago. There is so much I have to tell them, to share with them. Is it really so childish to love one's parents as I do, Willow?"

Willow put a comforting arm about her sister. "Nay, Velvet. I suppose it seems strange to the rest of us because we never had both of our parents around for very long. Do you realize that you're the only one of Skye O'Malley's children to grow up with her always nearby? And you're the only one who has grown up with both a mother and a father. If your devotion to your parents seems excessive to us, perhaps that's the reason why. When we were growing up we were lucky to have Mama to ourselves for any period of time. You've had her your whole life. Of course you're close to her, Velvet, and even if you're Alex's wife that closeness will remain, but you must accept the responsibilities of womanhood now. Why you could be a mother yourself within the year!" She kissed her sister's cheek. "What color is your gown?"

"Colors, Willow, not color! 'Twill be all the colors of the fire. Scarlet and red and gold and orange! Wait until you see! 'Tis most original!"

It sounded rather vulgar to Willow. Scarlet and red and gold and orange? Even a gypsy wouldn't dare such gaudiness, and with Velvet's auburn hair, too! Still, it was the girl's first elegant masque. If her costume wasn't quite as marvelous as the others, then she would be disappointed for certain, but she was quick and would learn from her unfortunate experience, thought Willow.

On the night of the masque, however, Willow had to revise her opinion of her youngest sister's taste.

The three women met in the main hall of Lynmouth to compare gowns. Angel was pure perfection in a sky blue silk creation: the skirt's center panel was sewn with pearls and moonstones to create the effect of puffy white clouds. Here and there, scattered across the blue silk, were small jeweled pins fashioned to represent birds in flight. Angel's golden blond hair was hidden beneath a headdress of fluffy white lawn and lace that represented a large cloud that was topped by a multicolored jeweled rainbow glittering with rubies, emeralds, topazes, amethyst, and peridots. Since her neckline was high and no skin was exposed, it was not necessary that she wear a necklace.

By her side stood Robin, resplendent in a costume of cloth of gold and twinkling with golden beryls. Atop his head was a large headdress fashioned like a sunburst. Looking at him, Willow couldn't ever remember her late stepfather, Geoffrey Southwood, looking more resplendent.

Willow had come, according to her word, garbed as the perfect English spring day. Her gown was of spring-green satin, the center panel of the skirt a meadowful of colorful yellow and white flowers. Across her skirt gamboled small silver lambs, and in her dark hair rested a small, golden bird's nest complete with a bejeweled inhabitant. By her side stood her husband dressed, as she had said, in black velvet.

Alex, true to his word, had come decked out in his full Highland dress, his one concession to the festivities the golden mask on a gilt wand that was carried by all the guests. It was Velvet, however, who caused gasps from her sister and sister-in-law. She had indeed come dressed as fire, but not garbed as the other women in full dress. Velvet had instead chosen to wear a wild assortment of flowing draperies whose rather savage hues of scarlet, red, gold, and orange flowed and blended themselves so cleverly that it was difficult to decide where one ended and another began. About her neck glittered her fiery ruby necklace, and from her ears bobbed the matching earrings.

"You can't be seen like that!" protested Willow. " 'Tis the most indecent costume that I've ever seen. Blessed Mother! You can see your legs!"

"Don't be such an old woman, Willow," retorted Velvet. "I'm wearing scarlet silk stockings." She held out a rather shapely red leg. "See!" Her garters, covered in twinkling red garnets, flashed wickedly.

"That's worse!" shrieked Willow.

"I can't be fire in a gown over vertingale and hip bolsters, Willow. It would have been far too awkward. Fire must leap and flow gracefully."

"I think she looks rather original," said Robin, his lime-green eyes sparkling with amusement. "I certainly have no objection to her costume, and I must assume, Alex, that you have no objections either, else we would not see Velvet here before us now in her delightful garb."

Alex let his eyes slide lazily and appreciatively over his wife. "She's more covered than ye are, Willow, with yer rather low neckline."

"Indeed," said the Earl of Alcester, looking pointedly down his wife's décolletage. "Besides, I think Velvet looks rather fetching."

Willow threw up her hands in despair. "I cannot imagine what the queen will say," she fussed, and then drawing her lips together in a severe line grew silent.

The queen, however, was enchanted by the originality of Velvet's costume and praised her greatly. There wasn't a gentleman at court who didn't agree with Her Majesty's entirely astute judgment, and Alex found his temper sorely tried on far too many occasions that evening. The women were divided between those who agreed with the queen and those who hid their jealousy behind disapproving frowns and pretenses of shock at the Countess of BrocCairn's outrageous garb.

Mary de Boult was one of the latter. She had come dressed as an English rose, but had chosen a dusky pink for her gown, and not until it was too late had she realized that the deep color rendered her milky skin sallow. She would have been far better off had she chosen the clear pink her dressmaker had tried to press upon her. Added to this was the fact that her gown lacked originality—there were at least two dozen other roses in the room—and Lady de Boult's unhappiness was complete, particularly in the face of Velvet's much-talked-about costume.

"I am appalled that Lord Gordon would allow his wife to appear in such an outlandish garb, but then he's naught but a rude and savage Scot," she said spitefully.

The Earl of Essex turned and fixed the lady with a rather fierce look. "Madame," he said, "I fear that your disappointment stems rather from the fact that Alexander Gordon used you to bring Velvet around. But then how could he have possibly had any serious interest in you when he was betrothed to her?"

Mary de Boult gaped, struck dumb by the insult, but before she could reply, Essex had turned away from her, and the few people who had been gathered about her melted away with mumbled excuses. Angry and ashamed, she vowed vengeance. Essex had been right. Alex had used her. He was the most exciting man she had ever known, but he didn't know that she was alive. He had simply used her to gain his own ends. She hadn't even been able to bring him to her bed, an unheard-of thing in her experience. Men were ever eager to get into her bed. He would pay! God's bones, he would pay dearly! And that proud, arrogant bitch he was married to would pay as well!

Mary de Boult sought out her husband. "Take me home," she commanded him. "I am ill."

Clifford de Boult was some twenty years older than his wife. His first wife had died childless after some fifteen years of marriage, and he had had no illusions about Mary when he had married her. She had been fifteen at the time and came from a large family. He had noted that she was quite healthy, and he had hoped she would prove fecund, which she quickly did, birthing him four healthy children in four years. He now had three sons and a daughter. She had done her part, and now he did his by allowing her to spend a portion of each year with the court and turning a blind eye to her little flirtations as long as they were discreet. He had not, he believed, been made a cuckold by his wife, and he would have called out any man he believed had had intimate knowledge of his Mary, for in his own way he loved her.

Bending, he inquired solicitously of her, "What is the matter, my dear?"

"My head aches unbearably with all this noise and the stink of the fireplaces," she whined. "You'd think Lynmouth's fireplaces would draw better."

He had not noticed any excess smoke and had thought that, quite to the contrary, the ballroom was quite well ventilated. Still, it was not like Mary to leave a good time, and so he could only assume that she was telling the truth. "I will beg the queen's leave for us to withdraw," he said and hurried off.

Mary de Boult looked across the room to where Alexander Gordon stood next to his wife. The open look of love on the earl's face as he bent to speak to Velvet made Mary almost physically ill, so great was her jealousy. Why should he be so happy when he had made her so miserable? she fumed bitterly. Her hatred rose, almost choking her, and she whispered to herself, "I wish you were dead, Alexander Gordon! I wish you were dead!"

Velvet shivered suddenly.

"Are ye cold, sweetheart?" Alex inquired worriedly. "Those silks ye're wearing cannot be very warm."

"Nay, Alex. 'Twas just a rabbit hopping across my grave." She was puzzled herself. For the briefest moment she had felt some terrible, fierce hatred directed toward herself and Alex, and, looking around, she had seen no one who might be their enemy. She shook off the anxiety and concentrated on having a good time. Was she not the highlight of this evening, the center of attention? There wasn't a person in the room this night who hadn't either admired or disapproved of her costume.

The queen did not leave Lynmouth House until the first pale light of dawn was beginning to gray the skies over London. She had danced every dance that evening, eaten of the finest food, and drunk the best French wines. Elizabeth Tudor felt more relaxed and at peace with the world than she had felt in many months. She had even, for a few brief moments that evening, not missed her Dudley.

The young earl's Twelfth Night masque was declared an enormous success by all who had attended it, and even Robin himself admitted to having had a good time. So much so that he had promised the queen that from now on he would continue his late father's custom of keeping Twelfth Night. Well-satisfied, Elizabeth Tudor had stepped into her barge and, waving gaily, departed.

Now began another round of fêtes and parties prior to the beginning of the Lenten season. Feeling better than she had felt in weeks, Angel persuaded Robin to remain in London at least until Candlemas, and perhaps beyond. The Earl of Lynmouth, his beautiful wife, and his sisters became a familiar sight at all of the galas.

Velvet could not ever remember being happier. It was true that she and Alex still quarreled over the slightest thing, but she sometimes wondered if they both remained stubborn only because their reconciliations were so wonderfully passionate. Yes, she was very happy and certainly not prepared for the sudden arrival home of her brother Murrough O'Flaherty.

Murrough was the second of Skye O'Malley's children and perhaps the one most like her, for as much as he loved his wife and children he also loved a good adventure. He had spent his early years in Ireland, and later followed the Tudor court where he had been a page to Geraldine FitzGerald Clinton, the Countess of Lincoln. Growing bored with it, and realizing that with no lands of his own or title he could not go very far at court, he had asked his mother to send him to Oxford where he studied diligently both there and later at the university in Paris where his father had studied. No one had been more surprised than Skye when Murrough announced his intentions of going to sea.

Taken in hand by his mother's best captains, he had shown a true O'Malley talent for the sea. By the time Murrough reached the age of twenty-five he had his own ship, and was one of Skye and Robbie Small's most trusted captains.

"Of them all, he's the only true O'Malley you spawned," old Sean MacGuire, Skye's senior captain, had observed to her.

Murrough's had been one of the eight vessels accompanying Skye and Adam to the Indies. Now suddenly he was back, sailing not into his home port of Plymouth, but up the Thames into the pool of London itself. By chance, one of the Earl of Lynmouth's retainers was on the docks seeking a ship with oranges, for Angel craved them desperately. Recognizing the Sea Hawk and her master, the earl's man spoke to Murrough.

"Welcome home, Captain! The earl is in London at his house along with the lord and lady of Alcester, the lady Velvet and her bridegroom, the Scotsman. Shall I tell my lord that you'll be coming?"

Murrough's brain only registered that Robin and two of his sisters were here. "Do you have a horse, man?" he demanded of the servant.

"Aye, Captain. Over there. The bay with the Lynmouth livery."

"I'll need the loan of her," Murrough replied, and without even waiting for an answer he hurried over to the animal and, mounting it, rode swiftly away.

Only when he was on his way did the words spoken by his brother's servant penetrate his mind. "The lady Velvet and her bridegroom, the Scotsman." Velvet married? When had that happened, and what would her parents have to say when they learned about it? He hurried the horse along the river road. It was early, and fortunately there were few people out and about as it was a raw and chilly day. Lynmouth House finally came into view, and he barely acknowledged the greeting of the gatekeeper as he galloped his mount through and up the driveway.

"Welcome home, Captain," said the majordomo, hurrying forward as he entered the house. "His lordship is not up yet, but I shall inform him that you're here."

"Don't bother," came Murrough's quick reply as he ran up the staircase. "I know my way to Robin's apartments."

"But, Captain …" The majordomo's voice trailed off as Murrough disappeared at the top of the stairs.

"Captain O'Flaherty!" Robin's valet bowed briefly as Murrough came through the door of the earl's apartment. "Welcome home, sir."

"Thank you, Kipp. Is his lordship still abed?"

"Aye, sir. 'Twas rather a late night."

Murrough only chuckled. He put his hand on the bedchamber door.

"Captain!" Kipp looked uncomfortable. "His lordship isn't alone."

A smile split Murrough's face. "I would hope not, Kipp!" He flung open the door and, striding in, called loudly, "Robin, you slugabed! Up with you now, and let's have a look at the lass you've spent the night debauching." Walking over to the bed, Murrough yanked back the bedcovers.

With a roar the Earl of Lynmouth leaped from his bed. Angel shrieked loudly and sought to cover herself. Murrough's startled gaze took in her condition, her blond beauty, and the wedding ring on her finger. Then his brother hit him. "Ouch!" grunted Murrough, rubbing his jaw. "Is that any way to greet me, you young pup?"

Robin was now on his feet, and he stared at the big, shaggy man who stood before him. "Murrough? Is it you? Jesu, man, you gave us a start!"

"Did you think it was her husband then?" Murrough chortled.

" I'm her husband, you randy old seadog!" The earl laughed. "You've been away too long, big brother. I was wed last August by the queen's own chaplain and in Her Majesty's presence. This is my wife, Angel."

Murrough O'Flaherty had the decency to look abashed, and he actually blushed. "Madame," he began, "I do beg your pardon."

Angel's beautiful face was serious. "I do not know if I shall ever forgive you, sir," she said, but her eyes were dancing with merriment, and, unable to restrain herself, she giggled mischievously, which turned Murrough's woebegone expression back to a merry one.

"Oh, brother, I can see I shall have to get you aside so that you may tell me all about my husband's bachelor adventures. Welcome home, Murrough O'Flaherty! Your sisters have told me much about you, but I can see that they don't know the half of it!"

Murrough laughed. "Nay, madame, they don't! Nor my good wife either! When is the babe due, for I can see my little brother has done his duty well by you."

"In May," she replied, and Murrough raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't wait, did you, Rob?"

"For what?" came Robin's laughing reply, and then the earl turned serious. "Murrough, what are you doing home? Are Mother and Adam with you?"

"Nay, Rob, and that is why I sought you out first when I learned you were in London. I had originally planned to go to the queen, but now that I think on it 'tis better we make our own plans before speaking with Her Majesty. Mother and Adam are being held captive by the Portuguese viceroy in Bombay. The only reason they aren't dead is that they can pay a fat ransom to the Portuguese, and Mother made a huge fuss as well about the fact that she and Adam are members of the holy mother church. She made it sound like our uncle Michael O'Malley is about to be elected the next pope. The viceroy is surrounded by Jesuits, y'know, and the Jesuits are far too clever and political to offend a high churchman. Besides, they'll get a goodly share of the ransom for their missionary work in India."

"Can the viceroy be trusted to release Mother and Adam unharmed once we pay the ransom?" Robin asked.

"From what I could see of the viceroy, he's a snake of the lowest order," Murrough remarked, "but the Jesuits are honest enough as long as the ransom is paid." Here Murrough allowed himself a small chuckle. "Mother's piety is quite something to behold, Rob. I never knew she even possessed a rosary, and yet it is most visible on her person in Bombay, and she never misses an opportunity to finger it publicly. The viceroy's chaplain is both enchanted and fascinated by both her and her beauty."

"Is she all right, Murrough?"

"Aye, and quite in her element, too, little brother. I do believe she has been pining all these years for another high adventure, and none of us ever knew it. As for Adam, he's ten years younger in appearance. They have lived the quiet life for Velvet's sake, but I believe now that it was only for her that they gave up the sea."

Robert Southwood smiled fondly for a moment, and then he was all business. "How much ransom are the Portuguese demanding?"

"Fortunately, they have no real idea of mother's wealth," Murrough replied. "They want two hundred and fifty thousand coins' worth of pure gold in exchange for her, Adam, and their ship. They also don't realize there were other vessels in our fleet, for only Mother's ship and mine entered Bombay harbor. Our original destination was the mughal's port of Cambay to the north, but we were blown off course by a storm and Mother's ship was damaged slightly. We needed water, too. The others in the fleet stayed several miles off the coast with orders to remain there until they were given the signal that it was safe to come ashore. Mother has sent them on now under Robbie Small, who has friends among the East Indies sultans. They should be able to obtain their spices in the islands, and the trip will be worthwhile for us even if we were not able to accomplish the queen's mission."

"The queen did not expect to meet with success this time, but she and Mother felt it was worth a try at least. The important thing now is that we get Mother, Adam, and our ships back safely," said Robin.

Murrough nodded, then asked, "What is this I hear of Velvet's marriage? I thought the child was not to be wed until after her sixteenth birthday, which, if I recall aright, isn't until this spring."

"Lord Gordon suddenly found himself the only direct male in his family line due to the sudden death of both his father and younger brother. He found it necessary to come to England to claim Velvet a year early. Unfortunately, no one had bothered to remind Velvet that she had a betrothed husband. And Mother had been filling her head for years with tales of going to court."

Murrough chuckled, imagining his little sister's outrage, and his chuckles grew into delighted laughter as Robin continued the tale, particularly when he told of the four weddings the couple had had.

"Of course," said Robin, gazing over at his wife who sat up in their bed, the coverlet to her chin, her blond curls peeking adorably from beneath her lace-edged nightcap with its silk ribbons, "had Velvet not come to court I should have never met my beloved Angel."

She beamed at her husband.

"I would say then that you owe our willful little sister a great debt, Robin," observed Murrough, and then he stood up. "I must get me to court now and tell the queen of what has happened. It is Whitehall at this time of year, isn't it?"

"Aye, and, Murrough, return here afterwards, for I will not keep this secret from our sisters. Both Willow and Velvet are here in London. Velvet in particular must know, for the queen, believing Mother would return this spring, ordered Alex to remain here until she came so that she and Adam might give their official blessing to the marriage. Now it will be at least twelve months or more depending on wind and tide, before we will see Mother and Adam; Alex will not want to stay in England for that long a time. He has been away from his lands almost a year and he will want to go home. The queen will understand that, but it will take some doing to convince Velvet of her duty. She far prefers life at court with all its divertissements and amusements to the thought of being a proper wife and mother."

"She is very young, my lord," Angel defended her friend. "You must not forget that her parents sheltered her so much that she knew little of life before she came to court last May. She is merely making up for lost time, and once she has had her fill of fun she will settle down and be an admirable mate for Alex. Besides, he loves her deeply."

"No man is really content to wait for sons," came Robin's reply.

"You have waited," Angel said calmly.

"You have assured me that it is a son you carry, madame," teased Robin.

"And so it is," she proclaimed, "yet you have three daughters already, my lord." She turned to Murrough. "Now, my newly met brother, how long will you be in London?"

Murrough considered. "The ship has to be revictualed before I can return to India and the ransom collected from the goldsmiths. I must have a complete change of crew, for the men with me have been at sea two years now and need more shore time than I can give them. But I must be gone within two weeks, else I will not be able to make the Indian Ocean crossing as the winds will be against me. There is a certain time when one can come easily around the horn of Africa and travel northeast across the Indian Ocean to Bombay; and there is a certain time when one can travel back. At all other times the winds are unfavorable."

"We will expect you for the evening meal then," said Angel, "and I hope you'll make this your home ashore while you're in London. It would please me greatly."

Murrough moved to the bedside and, taking Angel's hand, kissed it graciously. "Thank you," he said simply, and then with a nod to his brother he was gone from the apartment.

Murrough O'Flaherty was supplied with a fresh mount and rode for Whitehall where he found Lord Burghley, and through his good offices was admitted to Elizabeth Tudor's presence almost immediately. Bowing first, he then knelt before the queen.

"Rise, Captain O'Flaherty," she said, "and tell us your news." She seated herself in a high-back chair and waited.

Murrough outlined what had happened, and the queen's face darkened with outrage.

William Cecil, standing by her side, grew grim, but remained silent until the captain had ended his tale. Then he said, "There can be no question of our allowing so much gold out of England."

"The decision is not yours, m'lord," snapped Murrough. "It is O'Malley gold, not English gold. It has been earned by us, and it is ours to do with as we wish. I might say to you that had we not agreed to do the queen this service my mother and stepfather would not at this moment be in such a position, and there would be no need for us to use our gold for ransom. This venture has cost England not a penny piece, but it has cost us dearly." Murrough's fair face was flushed above his dark beard.

"Madame," responded Burghley, "I must protest Captain O'Flaherty's logic. That gold could be used against us in future wars by the papists!"

"Bah!" Murrough countered furiously. "Half of it will go directly into the viceroy's own pockets, and the rest the Jesuits will use to continue their campaign of conversion amongst the natives. The Portuguese government will never see one gold piece. Were Lisbon aware of our presence in Bombay, they would have seen us all executed and our ships confiscated. They want only one thing, total control over the East Indian trade."

"He is right," said the queen. "Lisbon knows nothing of their viceroy's activities."

"Then let us protest to them!"

"No, my lord," Elizabeth chided Burghley. "They must not be made aware of our presence in what they consider their private pond. This mission has failed, but there will be others, and eventually we will succeed. One day the riches of the Indies will be ours. Now, however, our paramount wish is to get Lord and Lady de Marisco safely home to England." She turned to Murrough and smiled. "I only wish that we could help with the ransom, Captain O'Flaherty, but the expenses in defeating Spain's mighty Armada last summer were great, and it will be several years before our treasury recovers."

"I rejoice with you, madame, in beating King Philip's might," Murrough said, "and I fully understand your position. You have all of England to consider. You need not worry though, for we will be able to manage the ransom demanded ourselves."

The queen smiled and held out her hand for him to kiss, which he did. "Then go with God, Murrough O'Flaherty," she said, "and return home safely with your mother and her husband. You have both our permission and our blessing."

"Thank you, madame," was his reply, and Murrough bowed and backed his way out of the queen's chamber.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand coins' worth of pure gold!" exclaimed Lord Burghley disgustedly when the door had shut behind the captain. "Do you know what we could do with that money, madame?"

"She is my friend," said Elizabeth Tudor quietly.

"That Irish bitch?" exploded William Cecil. "How many times has she defied you, and fought you, madame?"

"Aye, William," the queen said calmly, "she has indeed defied me and fought me over the years, but never, my lord, never has Skye O'Malley betrayed me. Not once, and 'tis certainly more than I can say for my own conduct with regards to her."

"You are England's queen, madame, and your conduct as such has always been above reproach," came his answer.

"Aye," the queen agreed, "but there are few people other than yourself, my dear Spirit , whose conduct and code of morals is steady and never-changing. Skye O'Malley is one of those people. She did not have to put either herself or her ships in jeopardy in order to gain a toehold in India for England, but when I asked her to she agreed to try."

"She would have gained greatly by it," Lord Burghley said sourly.

"But there was the greater chance that she would lose, William, and indeed she has. This venture has cost her dearly, but it shall not cost her her life or the life of her husband. I will speak no more on it!"

William Cecil, Lord Burghley, clamped his lips shut. Ever since Dudley's death the queen had grown sentimental, and at the damndest times. He would wager that Lady de Marisco, left to her own clever devices, would escape quite handily from the Portuguese, and without the loss of all that gold to England's economy. Skye O'Malley wasn't a woman to sit idle.

Murrough O'Flaherty, making his way back to his brother's home, would have agreed with the queen's closest confidant. Ever since his youngest sibling's birth his mother had been content to remain at home, which was totally unlike her. Murrough admired Skye, and now that Velvet was married and settled he expected to see Skye take complete charge of the O'Malley empire again.

"Murrough!" Willow hurried toward him with outstretched arms.

"Murrough!"

Jesu! Was that exquisite beauty really Velvet? The two women hugged him warmly and planted wet kisses on his ruddy cheeks. A burst of contentment ran through him, and he hugged them back, one arm around a supple waist and the other around one less supple, but comfortable. "Damn me if you're not a pretty pair of pigeons to come home to, my darlings!"

"Have you been home yet to Joan and the children?" his elder sister demanded.

"Nay, Willow, I came directly to London, for I have news of Mother and Adam."

"Are they long behind you?" Willow demanded. "We did not expect them until spring."

Robin appeared at the top of the main staircase. "Come up," he said, "and Murrough shall give you the news at once."

Realizing that his brother didn't want him to speak until they were all together, Murrough mounted the stairs with his two sisters. Entering Robin's library, he saw his brother-in-law, James Edwardes, the Earl of Alcester, and another man who Robin quickly introduced as Velvet's husband, Alex Gordon, the Earl of BrocCairn. Alex's handclasp was firm and his gaze unwavering. Murrough liked the look of him.

"Now tell us your news!" Velvet demanded impatiently as she settled herself in a chair by the fire.

"Aye," said Willow, for once echoing her younger sister. "Tell us of Mother and Adam. Were they well when you last left them? And what of Uncle Robbie?"

Calmly, Murrough explained the situation as he had left it, and was relieved to see that neither of his sisters fell into a swoon.

"How long before you leave?" Willow asked bluntly when he had finished. "Two weeks at the most," was his reply.

"How long is the passage to India?" Velvet was more to the point.

"Several months, depending upon the winds."

She nodded. "Robin should have at least one child and another started by the time Mama and Papa get back."

"And what of us?" demanded Alex.

" 'Twill be as God wills it, my lord," said Velvet airily, and he scowled.

"Is the money a problem?" Robin asked. "Did the queen offer to aid us any?"

Murrough laughed. "The queen apologized for her purse, which she claims is empty from the expense of the Armada victory. Lord Burghley tried to prevent our ransoming Mother and Adam on the excuse that the loss of our monies to the Portuguese dons could hurt the English economy. The queen refused his reasoning and wished me Godspeed. Don't fear, Rob. We can well afford the gold though I hate to see it go to the viceroy."

"No one must know," said Robin.

"Of course," agreed Murrough.

"Why?" questioned Velvet.

"If word got out as to the amount of gold our ships are carrying, we would be a prime target for pirates. There are many miles of water between London and Bombay. We must travel in a small fleet, in a tight formation, without hailing any other vessel before we reach our destination. We'll be transporting several thousand pounds of gold in five ships. Even one of those ships would be a tempting prize. That, Velvet, is why no one must know."

"In that case I can only hope no one saw you at Whitehall," remarked Willow.

Murrough laughed. "Only the queen and Lord Burghley. 'Twas too early in the morning for the high and mighty to be up and about. Besides, the fact that I am back is no reason for anyone to be suspicious. It looks like I simply came ahead."

"You will get them home safely, won't you, Murrough?" Velvet's voice was slightly unsteady. "The Portuguese won't harm Mama and Papa before you return with the ransom?"

"If I know Mother, Velvet, she will have wagered some mad bet with the viceroy and won back every penny of the ransom before I arrive. Do not fear, little sister. The viceroy is only interested in becoming a wealthy man. Harming Mother and Adam would gain him nothing. They may sail beneath an English flag, but they are Catholics. There is no reason to harm them. By this time next year our family will be back together, I promise you!"

She believed him. He was Murrough, her Murrough, the big brother who had carried her on his shoulders when she was a wee girl. This was the brother who had sneaked sweetmeats into her bed when she had been sent to her room supperless for some long-forgotten infraction. Murrough had never failed her, and Velvet knew that he wouldn't now.

In the next few days Murrough set in motion the revictualizing of his ship and the provisioning of the ships that would accompany him. The gold that was secretly brought from goldsmiths in three different countries would be placed aboard at the last possible minute, hidden among the trading cargo that was even now being placed in conspicuous locations on the O'Malley-Small docks in order to allay any suspicions. All the captains and the crews involved in the mission were hand-picked and trustworthy. Murrough was pleased to discover that his own crew didn't want to be replaced. Despite their many months at sea and their short stay at home, they had begun to love this adventure, and to a man they were determined to finish it. Once everything was well under way, Murrough departed for Devon to visit his wife and children.

Although she was concerned for her parents, Velvet knew now that come spring Alex would request the queen's permission to return to Dun Broc. Under the circumstances she suspected that the queen would give him that permission. Velvet might get Alex to remain in England until her sixteenth birthday on May 1, but she knew that soon after that they would be on their way. So she would have only a few months more at court, and the Lenten season would shortly be upon them with its fasting and prayers. There would be no gaiety or parties during the six weeks between Ash Wednesday and Easter. She debated the wisdom of allowing Alex to get her with child now, but discarded the notion for she knew it meant a great deal to him that his heir be born at Dun Broc. Better to wait until they returned to Scotland than to attempt pregnancy now and force Alex to remain in England until the baby was born.

There was to be a final masque on Shrove Tuesday night at court.

"On the morrow 'twill be fish and ashes," mourned Essex, and the queen rapped him sharply on the knuckles with her fan.

"Fie, sire!" she scolded. "A six-week penance will do you no harm, and I've no doubt that come Easter Sunday you'll begin to make up for lost time!"

The queen had ordered that the ladies come to the masque garbed in either silver or gold, the gentlemen in red or black. The celebration would end precisely at midnight. Until then there would be music and dancing and feasting at Her Majesty's expense.

"What will you do in the next six weeks?" Angel asked Velvet as they lunched on the day of the masque. "We are leaving for Lynmouth tomorrow. My health is excellent, and Robin feels that if we travel slowly there will be no danger to the baby. Surely you don't mean to stay in London. 'Twill be so dull!"

Before Velvet could answer, Alex broke into their conversation. "We are leaving for Scotland in several days' time," he said quietly.

"Scotland!" Both Velvet and Angel gasped, and then Velvet cried, " 'Tis winter! The roads will be terrible, if not impassable! I did not think we would leave until after Easter, my lord."

"I have been away from my lands ten months now, Velvet. I have an enormous group of retainers that is costing me a fortune to feed and house here in London. They are restless, and restless men grow troublesome. They long for their homes and families. It may be cold, but the roads are passable here in England. I cannot say what they will be like in Scotland, but we are going to try to get through. With luck we will be at Dun Broc within the month. I have already asked the queen's permission. Yer parents will not be back for a full year or more. With luck we can greet them with a fine grandson."

"Which is just as it should be!" said Willow briskly. "Why James and I are for Alcester once Lent begins. With your permission, brother Alex, we shall ride with you. For once I'll have no fear of getting home safely, for no one will even consider trifling with that wild-looking band of Highlanders who owe you loyalty. If you wish the hospitality of Hill House before traveling on, you're most welcome to it."

"I'm most happy to have you travel with us, Willow," responded Alex courteously. "As for yer hospitality, we shall see. If the weather is good we shall press on without delay."

"When did you intend to tell me of your plans, my lord?" said Velvet. Her voice was ominously calm at first, then it began to rise angrily. "Tonight is the queen's masque, and then how many days was I to be allowed to pack up my life before being dragged into the wintry Highlands? Or perhaps, my lord, you meant to drag me off again with nothing but the shift on my back as you did the last time we traveled north together!"

"Ye don't need to take everything ye own now," Alex replied foolishly. "Pansy can pack the rest and come in the spring."

"What?" Velvet shrieked. "First you propose to deprive me of my family, then my clothing and personal effects, and now my tiring woman! Is it that you have duplicated everything at that Highland stone heap you call a castle? Have you a maid waiting there for me who can speak the queen's English to keep me company, or will I be faced with some half-savage girl who'll not understand me, nor I her? I'll not go! If you're so anxious to return to Scotland, then go yourself, but you'll go without me if I cannot have the time to pack my things and if I cannot have my own tiring woman!"

"Will ye disobey me then, Velvet?" he shouted back at her, and everyone in the room jumped at the threatening tone in his voice.

"Is it the horses and dogs again, Alex?" she demanded, hands upon her hips.

He glowered blackly at her, and then Robin spoke. "You cannot expect my sister to go to her new home without her own things and servants about her, Alex. How soon do you want to leave?"

"Within the week."

"Plenty of time," soothed Robin, "for Pansy and my servants to pack everything up for transport. Can you use my traveling coach?"

"As far as Edinburgh," muttered Alex.

"Excellent!" enthused Robin. "Velvet and Pansy will be most comfortable and well-rested for the ride from Edinburgh to Dun Broc. It's settled then, eh?" He looked at his sister and brother-in-law.

"Well," said Willow, "I for one will be delighted to ride to Hill House in your fine coach, Robin. You've never offered it to me, and 'tis the best-sprung vehicle I've ever ridden in. But how will you and Angel get home?"

"We are leaving tomorrow," came Robin's reply. "There will be time enough for the coach to get us to Lynmouth , and then return to London for you and Alex and Velvet."

"In that case," said Velvet sweetly, "I shall be quite content to leave for Scotland." She smiled mischievously at her husband.

"Ye'll drive me mad, woman, if I don't kill ye first," Alex grumbled at her darkly.

"Have you grown tired then of the making-up?" she murmured.

Alex's eyes suddenly grew warm again, and his mouth, which had been compressed into a thin, angry line, softened. Crossing the space that separated them, he swept her up laughingly and walked from the room carrying his precious burden. Behind him he heard the gasps of surprise from Willow and Angel and the indulgent chuckles of his two brothers-in-law.

Velvet nuzzled her husband's ear as he exited Lynmouth House and moved across the garden that partitioned it from their own house, Greenwood. He stumbled a little as she nibbled thoughtfully on his tender earlobe.

"Wanton," he growled. "Ye're naught but a shameless wanton."

"And you'd have me no other way, my lord," she whispered boldly as he entered their house and mounted the stairs to their private apartments. Two young housemaids dusting in the hallway gaped, stunned, after them. Velvet ran her tongue around the shell of his ear, and he shuddered.

"I'll drop ye," he threatened, but she only laughed.

"Nay, you won't, Alex. You're too hot to take your pleasure with me and too much the gentleman to do it here before the servants." She blew softly into his ear.

"Ye're as hot to fuck as I am," he muttered thickly, kicking their bedchamber door open and entering the room.

"Aye, my lord," she drawled slowly, "I am."

He put her down and, hooking his fingers into her low-cut bodice, yanked the fabric downward, tearing her gown away to bare her breasts. Pushing her back upon their bed, he deftly tossed her skirts up with one hand while loosening his own clothes with the other. Then, falling atop her, his mouth found a tender and tempting nipple. Slowly his tongue encircled it while his left hand imprisoned her hands above her head, and his right hand found the sensitive little jewel of her womanliness. Gently he stroked it, his mouth all the while suckling her breast. Beneath him, Velvet quivered with excitement, loving his touch and his insistent lips on her nipple.

"Aye, ye're naught but a shameless strumpet," he muttered against her flesh, "and were I not sure 'twas I who took yer maidenhead, I should wonder about yer unseemly eagerness. Knowing the truth, however, I can only assume yer wild passion for me is the cause."

Velvet laughed low. "Aye, my lord, but I wonder if my passion will ever be satisfied with all your talk. Ahhhhh! Oh, Alex, yessss!"

His mouth descended on hers as he thrust deep within her warm sweetness. He moved upon her with maddening slowness, teasing her lovingly until Velvet sank her teeth into his muscular shoulder to ease some of her swiftly roused passion.

"Vixen! My hot, honeyed little vixen," he crooned.

Amid the tangle of her bunched-up skirts, she strove to meet his every downward stroke. She almost laughed remembering how fearful she had been of this marvelous part of marriage. Then she wondered if all women craved the loving their husbands gave them or if she were indeed the wanton he teased her about being. But suddenly it didn't matter, for she was being swept up in the powerful and magnificent storm that their lovemaking created. With a soft cry she clung fiercely to him as their rapture built in intensity until finally the raging fire between them hurled both Alex and Velvet into an exquisite world of perfect pleasure from which neither was anxious to return too quickly.

"Ah, lass," he finally said, "never will there ever be another woman for me but thee. I adore ye!"

"And I thee, my lord husband, my beloved lover!" she responded.

They lay quietly for a time, entwined together upon their bed. The shadows of late afternoon lengthened, and soon the room was dim. Finally Velvet said softly, " 'Tis another gown you owe me, my lord, and I'll have it before we return to Scotland."

He laughed lazily. "Ye're well worth the price of a new gown, lass." Then he leaned over her and kissed her bared breasts again with slow, warm kisses.

Velvet felt a delicious tingle race down her spine, but then she caught at his hair and pulled his head away. "Oh, no, Alex! You're forgetting the queen's masque!"

"To hell with the queen's masque," he muttered and captured a pert nipple between his teeth, worrying it gently.

"No! No!" she fussed at him, laughing now and helpless in the face of her own rising desires.

"Yes," he insisted. "We've time for one more sweet tumble, madame, before I must dress myself in some silly fanciful garb and dance the evening away simply to amuse an aging queen."

"Alex! You must not speak so against the queen!"

"Aye, lass, ye're right," he said, and blew softly in her ear as his strong hands caressed her breasts and moved down to stroke her silken belly. Then his mouth found hers once more in kiss after long, sweet kiss until Velvet's lips ached with his loving. His body hovered over hers but a moment and then he was entering her gently.

She sighed deeply, her hands frantically clutching his back as he moved upon her. She could feel him within her, loving her fiercely and strongly, his hardness fanning a fire that raged totally out of control. The queen's majesty, the queen's masque, the coming trip to Scotland were all forgotten in the midst of their passion.

Once again Alex and Velvet lay together sated with their love, but this time a knock came upon the door. "My lady! My lady!" called Pansy. "I must bring the bath or else you will be late."

"That bloody wench has no proper sense of timing or of decency," grumbled Alex. "If Dugald weren't so taken with her I should leave her behind!"

"Nay," said Velvet, laughing, "you wouldn't. She means much to me, and well you know it." She sat up. "Quickly, Alex, help me get out of the ruins you've made of my gown. Pansy will be far less shocked to see me in a chamber robe at this time of day than to witness the tatters you've made of my bodice."

Alex made a noise that to his wife sounded as if he were quite pleased with this afternoon's work and not in the least repentent. With swift hands he undid her gown, his fingers teasing mischievously, and chortled gleefully as she frowned at him and slapped his hands away.

"Where shall we hide it?" He grinned at her, holding up the rags that had been her gown.

Velvet looked frantically about the room, and then, leaping off the bed, she stuffed the unfortunate garment into a small trunk by the window. Then, turning, she grinned saucily at him. "I'll give it to the sewing woman tomorrow so that she may repair it if that's possible." She laughed again, seeing the dangerous look smoldering in his eyes as he gazed upon her nudity.

"Put something on this instant and let Pansy into the room, lass, or I'll not be responsible for my actions!" he threatened.

"The bath water is here," called Pansy through the door. Velvet opened another small trunk and drew forth a chamber robe. "Open the door, Alex," she said. Her beautiful green eyes were sparkling with mirth, and he gritted his teeth in frustration, for he found to his amazement that despite their two couplings he wanted her once again.

With a gusty sigh, he crossed the room and opened the door to admit Pansy and several footmen who came in bearing jars of hot water for his wife's bath. There was no way for him to avoid taking her to court tonight. It was the last of the pre-Lenten festivities and after midnight all would be fasting and solemnity for the next six weeks. He grimaced. The queen, sharp-eyed female that she was, would know precisely who came and who did not. Since he had already obtained her gracious permission to remove his wife to Scotland before Easter, Alex knew he was bound to put in an appearance tonight with Velvet by his side. The queen could rescind her permission as easily as she had given it.

"Is my lady the only one to get hot water?" he growled surlily at the footmen and then stamped off into his own bedchamber.

Her tub filled to the brim and its warm steam smelling sweetly of gillyflowers, Velvet removed her chamber robe once the footmen had departed and settled herself daintily in, sighing happily.

"Did you get your tub, my lord?" she inquired of him in sugared tones through the open door that connected their rooms.

"I got what hot water was left over, and 'twas precious little at that, but 'twill serve, madame," he responded sourly.

"My tub is simply delicious." Velvet purred. "I think I shall soak awhile." She splashed delicately and sighed noisily.

"No soaking!" His voice was outraged. There was but three inches of water in his own tub, and he was already chilled. "We'll be late if ye soak, and ye know how Her Majesty dislikes tardiness. I'll not get on her bad side now!"

"If we're late," teased Velvet, "I shall tell Her Majesty 'twas all your fault, and I shall tell her just how you kept me dallying the afternoon away, my lord."

He laughed aloud, his mirth warm with the memory of their long and lovely afternoon of lovemaking. "If ye tell on us, madame, we'll never be allowed back at Elizabeth Tudor's court again. Are ye prepared to spend yer lifetime at Dun Broc? Not, mind ye, that I should mind that."

Velvet returned his laughter. "God, no!" she said with deep feeling.

"Then I suggest, madame," he replied with a chuckle, "that ye hurry yerself or else prepare to spend a lifetime in the Highlands."

Pansy grinned at her mistress conspiratorily, and Velvet chuckled as her tiring woman bent to scrub her back. Two little undermaids fussed and bustled about the room laying out the clothing that their lady would wear tonight. Her silken, lace-trimmed underthings, exquisitely perfumed, were spread upon the bed. Her silk stockings, in a gold-and-silver diamond pattern, were carefully placed next to her petticoats. Lastly her gown was brought forth and laid across a chair. It was a magnificent confection of cloth of silver and silver lace. The bodice was sewn all over with transparent green amber in a pattern of waving ferns and butterflies, and the sleeves of the gown were lush with silver lace.

Velvet stepped from her tub and was enveloped in a large bath sheet. Seating herself next to the fire, she sat patiently while the two little undermaids dried her and Pansy brushed her dark auburn hair with a perfumed brush. Then she arose and was dressed by the three servants. Bending, she drew her garters up each leg, admiring the large silver butterflies with the green antennae on each.

"Ain't they shockingly wonderful!" enthused Pansy. " 'Tis almost a pity you can't show them."

"Only to his lordship if I plan to get us safely to Dun Broc." She looked at her tiring woman. "Do you mind that we will live in Scotland, Pansy? Our new home is to be deep in the country far from the Stewart court. 'Twill be most dull, I've not a doubt. Perhaps you would prefer to remain in service here in England."

"Nay, m'lady! Like you I'm used to the country, having grown up at Queen's Malvern with you. London is exciting, I'll admit, but I prefer a quieter, more stable life. Dugald is seeking me hand in marriage, and he's a good man. I couldn't do better."

"I would hope that you love him if you would marry him, Pansy," said Velvet softly.

Pansy smiled happily. "Aye," she admitted. "I love the rogue!" Then she turned on the two undermaids. "Speak a word of what I've said this evening, and you'll not live to see the spring, either of you! I'll not have that Dugald knowing all me feelings!"

Both of the two other servant girls nodded vigorously in agreement with Pansy. "Aye," said the one called Sarah. "It don't do for a man to get too sure of you. I'll speak nay a word, Mistress Pansy, and neither will Millie. Will you, Millie?" The girl named Millie shook her head. "Nay," she said. "I'll not chatter."

Velvet was now ready for her gown to be put on, and Pansy spoke sharply to the others. "Don't stand there dawdling! Bring m'lady's dress this instant!"

The gown was brought, and within a few moments Velvet stood gazing at her reflection in the tall pier glass. Her costume, she decided, was a triumph, and she preened, a small smile upon her face. Her breasts were dangerously close to bursting over the silver lace that edged her bodice. About her neck and spilling onto her chest was a magnificent necklace of transparent green amber and yellow diamonds that had matching earbobs. Pansy had brushed Velvet's hair back so that it hung loose down her back, and above her left ear the maid affixed an arrangement of silver roses.

"M'lady, your jewel case," said Pansy, holding open a box filled with rings.

Velvet paused a moment, thinking that this time last year she had nothing in the way of jewels, and now she was the proud possessor of several cases of necklaces, earbobs, bracelets, rings, pins, and various other geegaws. Alex enjoyed showering her with beautiful jewels. Then, a tiny frown of concentration between her brows, she chose several rings: a yellow diamond, an emerald, a violet-blue spinel, and a large creamy pearl. She quickly slipped these on her elegant fingers.

"Madame, ye're magnificent!"

She turned to find that her husband had entered the room. He was garbed in red velvet from his head to his toes, his doublet embroidered with gold beads in a geometric pattern.

"You, milord, are also magnificent!" She returned his compliment with feeling, thinking how damnably handsome he was and how very much she had grown to love him.

" 'Tis a pity we must go, isn't it?" he teased her, his amber eyes warm with love.

Velvet sighed. "Aye, 'tis a pity, but 'twould be a greater pity to disappoint my godmother, the queen, who has been so very loving and good to us both." Her eyes were modestly downcast, and he chuckled at her demure demeanor.

"Very well, madame, then go we must, but 'twill be on yer head if I have a dull evening."

"Then I need not fear, milord, for you never have dull evenings. We shall be at court but a few minutes before you'll be totally surrounded by giggling, giddy women who barely tolerate my existence. I have watched you, sir, and you become like a pampered, fat tomcat under such attention. Nay, 'twill be no dull evening for you!"

"Nor ye either, madame," he countered. "If I am surrounded by the ladies, ye're as quickly surrounded by the men."

She laughed merrily, knowing his jealousy. Pansy placed a full-length cloth-of-silver cape lined in sable about her mistress as Dugald came through the connecting door with his master's cape and bonnet. Then together the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn departed for Greenwich in their comfortable barge, for although it was cold, the river was not yet frozen over and a channel was open. Fur robes were tucked about them, and hot bricks wrapped in flannel were placed at their feet.

Velvet loved traveling on the river, and she settled back comfortably as their barge glided along. The sun had just sunk, and slightly to their right they were treated to the magnificent orange-and-gold traces of the winter sunset above which, in the darkening evening sky, shone one clear, pristine star. The Thames flowed calmly about them, smooth and dark, for it was that short period between the ebb and flood tides, and the BrocCairn barge cleaved the waters neatly, leaving virtually no wake behind it. There was no wind at all, and wrapped snugly beneath the fur robes neither of the Gordons felt the February cold.

"Are ye still distressed about leaving for Scotland?" he asked her quietly.

"Nay, not really," she answered. "It is true that I wanted to see my parents before we left England, but since they arranged our marriage in the first place, they can have no objections that we have wed in their absence. Besides"—and here a small smile played at the corners of Velvet's mouth—" 'tis past time we had a child, milord, don't you think?"

His mouth fell open in surprise at this sudden change in her attitude. "Dammit, lass, isn't that what I've been saying all along to ye?" he demanded.

"Aye, milord, but then it wouldn't do for the heir of BrocCairn to be born in England, would it?"

"Once again, madame," he grumbled at her, "ye drive me to the point of violence. Tell me, though, ye're sure now about not waiting for yer parents?"

"I have thought long on it, Alex," she said, "and I have decided that if they are still spry enough to travel thousands of miles to India, then Scotland will be but a tiny trip for them to make in order to see us and our children." Her gloved hand slipped into his and she squeezed it. Then she turned her head and, gazing up at him, smiled happily. "I think I am beginning to grow up, Alex, and I want to go home."

He felt a lump deep in the base of his throat, which he quickly swallowed back. At the same time he felt great relief surge through his entire being. He wanted her to love Scotland, and most of all he wanted her to love Dun Broc , which would be her home from now on. He loved her too much to have been able to bear the thought of her being unhappy. Now it seemed that his prayers had been answered.

He also had the strong urge to put her over his knee and spank her bottom until it was pink. She had driven him mad with her stubbornness these past months, ever since their very first meeting. All this emotion was very visible in his face, and Velvet, gazing adoringly at her husband, couldn't restrain the tiny giggle that slipped forth.

"Lass, ye try me sorely," he growled low at her, "but damn me if I don't love ye to the point of distraction."

"I seem to be afflicted with the same malaise, milord. Besides, London out of season is dreadfully dull, I am told."

He laughed, unable to contain himself. "So, Velvet de Marisco Gordon, Countess of BrocCairn, ye go adventuring to Scotland to ease yer boredom, do ye?"

"And my curiosity," she teased him back. "Ever since you arrived in England last spring, Alex, you've been anxious to return to your precious Scotland, even to the point of kidnapping me! I am curious to see what lies beyond Edinburgh that draws you so."

"Dun Broc is what draws me, lass, and I hope ye'll love it! Ah, Velvet, my love, the forested mountains surround us, and the castle perches like a gyrfalcon on the crest of a high hill. Even on days when there are mists in the glen below, the heights on which we stand are clear, for Dun Broc soars with the eagles!"

She felt a small thrill run through her at his words, for his deep love of his home was so obvious. "I am sure I will love it, Alex," she said sincerely. "How can I not, for it was from Dun Broc that you sprang and from Dun Broc that you came into my life."

She loved him! With a sudden burst of clarity it penetrated his bemused brain. She really loved him! She actually loved him! His head dipped to find her sweet, sweet lips, and they kissed passionately for a long, tender moment.

As their mouths parted he gazed deeply into her emerald eyes, and Velvet realized that now he finally knew and understood her heart, which came close to bursting with her gladness. For the life of her she couldn't comprehend why she had been resisting him all these months.

"Greenwich, milord," their bargeman called, and ahead of them they could see the gaily twinkling lights of the palace.

"Ye'll miss it," he said softly.

"Aye," she conceded, "I'll miss it, but we'll come back someday when our children are grown enough for us to leave them safely, Alex. My home, I am realizing, is where you are, my love. Yes, I am most certainly growing up!"

"So am I," he answered her with a grin.

Their barge slipped into the long line of other vessels waiting to land at the royal quay. In the darkness of early evening it was not possible to recognize the occupants of the other boats despite the lanterns that bobbed from them all. At one point a new arrival attempted to push its way in before the BrocCairn barge.

"Make way for Lord de Boult," snapped a surly-looking waterman.

"The Earl and Countess of BrocCairn give way only to the queen herself," countered the Gordons' bargeman. "Get to the end of the line and wait your turn!" He punctuated his remarks by shoving the offending vessel with his oar.

About them the other bargemen lined up on the side of the earl's man, equally annoyed at the pushiness of Lord de Boult's servant.

" 'Ere now, move to the rear!"

"Aye! Who the 'ell is Lord de Boult next to my Lord Lincoln?" roared the Earl of Lincoln's man.

There was more outrage voiced by the various servants of the waiting barges, some of them not at all kind, and with a mumbled oath the offending bargeman moved his boat to the end of the line.

Within a few minutes the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn landed and, climbing from their vessel, moved up the stairs to the palace of Greenwich, where the queen's Shrove Tuesday fête had already begun. They could hear the musicians tuning up their instruments, and as they entered the building they were surrounded by their friends who had been awaiting them.

"Aha!" cried Essex, "at long last. What kept you?" He was dressed in black velvet, and his doublet twinkled with diamonds.

"Need you ask?" Ralegh chuckled, equally resplendent in a red doublet sewn with sparkling garnets and gold beads.

"Walter!" chided Bess Throckmorton, her dark blond beauty enhanced by her gold brocade gown, the fabric of which had been Velvet's Twelfth Night gift to her. But Velvet only laughed.

"The marriage bed, Sir Walter, is one of the nicest prerogatives of wedded life should you ever decide to try it." She looked but for an instant at her friend, who blushed furiously.

"Come along," Bess said, in an attempt to cover her embarrassment. "The queen has already been asking for you both, and I was sent to fetch you to her the moment you arrived."

Gaily, they followed the queen's favorite Maid of Honor, trooping up the stairs to where the festivities were noisily in progress. Elizabeth Tudor was ensconced in a large, carved, gilt throne that sat atop a small carpeted dais. She was magnificently gowned in a dress of white velvet with cloth-of-silver stripes sewn all over with diamonds, pearls, and small golden bows. About her neck was a necklace made of six strands of perfectly matched pink pearls with an emerald clasp. Upon her head was a wig of the fieriest hue of bright red. Her gray-black eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and as she spoke she used her beautiful hands with their long, beringed fingers gracefully to punctuate her point. Seeing Velvet and Alex, she smiled warmly and gestured for them to approach her, which they did, moving easily between the rows of chattering courtiers. Reaching the dais, the Earl and Countess of BrocCairn made a respectful obeisance to the monarch.

The queen stood, then shouted over the din, "Silence! We would speak and have everyone hear what it is we have to say." The room quieted, even the musicians falling silent. The queen smiled, well pleased at them all. If she had taught them one thing over the years, it was obedience to her will. "Tomorrow," she began, "is the start of the penitential season, and shortly thereafter my dearest godchild, Velvet, will depart with her husband for their home in Scotland. Since it is to be hoped that my goddaughter, once in her new home, will do her duty by her husband …" Here the queen paused, and there were several loud, appreciative chuckles from those present. "It is not likely that we will see them again for several years, for Dun Broc i s many long miles from London. Queen's Malvern , where Velvet grew up, was a grant from my own estates to Adam de Marisco. Since he has no son to carry on his line, we would have it known that upon his death the estate of Queen's Malvern is to be deeded to Alexander Gordon, the Earl of BrocCairn, and his heirs forever. This is my gift to you both, for I love you well."

Velvet's eyes filled with tears of pleasure. To know that someday Queen's Malvern would be hers and her children's was almost too much to bear. She wished her parents not one moment less time on earth than God ordained for them, but in preparing to leave England for the north she had felt so cut off. Now the queen had remedied that feeling as if she had known exactly what Velvet was thinking. The young Countess of BrocCairn fell to her knees. Taking the hem of the queen's gown, she raised it to her lips and kissed it. "Thank you, madame," she said, her voice thick with emotion. She could say no more.

Elizabeth bent and raised the girl up, her own eyes wet with honest tears. Pulling a silken scrap from her sleeve, she wiped her godchild's cheeks. "There now, child, I but sought to please you."

"Oh, you have, gracious madame! You have!"

"It is a most generous gift, indeed, Majesty," said Alex, who had finally found his voice.

The queen shot him an amused look. "It is unlikely that we shall have heirs of our own body," she said with great understatement. "Perhaps someday the son of my traitorous cousin, Mary Stewart, will inherit this throne." She smiled coldly. "Perhaps. If that should be the case, then it cannot hurt for you to have English estates, my lord. It cannot hurt you at all."

"Nay." He nodded gravely. "It canna hurt me, madame."

"We intend to live a long life"—the queen chuckled—"and we have no doubt that Adam de Marisco and his wife will also live long. It may be many years until you come into your inheritance, sir. Many years, indeed."

"But when I do," said Alex with great deftness, "I will remember with respect and affection England's great queen, Elizabeth Tudor."

"Hah!" chortled the queen. "God's nightshirt, what a waste! You should stay here at court, Alex Gordon, for you've a courtier's tongue in your head for certain. You could go far. Aye, you could!"

"The queen is most gracious," replied Alex, "but with all due respect to ye, and to yer court, I long for the hills of my home."

Elizabeth smiled. "I understand," she said quietly. "You love your Dun Broc as I love my Greenwich. I let no one deny me my home, and I shall not deny you yours, my lord. Our permission for you to go stands. Go safely with God, but return to us with your wife in time."

Alex bowed low and, taking the queen's hand, kissed it.

The queen's eyes sparkled again. "Now away with you, sir, and enjoy the evening! There are several pairs of eyes that have not left your person since you entered the room. Bold, immoral wenches, they are. Are you jealous, Velvet?"

"Nay, madame, for my lord gives me no cause. I weep for these ladies, for unlike an Eastern sultana, I cannot find it in my heart to share my husband."

The queen laughed once more, for she was in high good humor this evening. "Methinks somehow that my lord BrocCairn has all he can handle in you, my child!"

"Aye, madame, and that's a truth," came Velvet's mischievous reply, and she curtsied prettily to the queen. Then, taking her husband's arm, she moved out into the room again.

"You're a bold jade," said Sir Walter Ralegh as he moved to join them. Bess had returned to her place by her mistress's side, as had the handsome Earl of Essex.

"The better to breed up bold sons, sirrah!" came Velvet's pert reply.

Ralegh grinned and thought how very much Velvet had changed in the eight months since she had joined the court. The musicians began to play a spritely country dance, and as quick as a wink he claimed Velvet from under Alex's surprised nose. Slipping his arm about her waist, he skillfully wove her into the figure and they were swiftly gone.

With a chuckle Alex made his way back to the queen's dais. Asking and receiving her permission, he partnered Mistress Throckmorton in the dance as the queen went merrily off with Lord Essex.

Although the evening was scheduled to end at midnight with the entire court gathering in the queen's chapel to receive ashes, it seemed as if the masque fête would never end. The musicians played with great liveliness and almost without stopping. Toward mid-evening the dining-room doors were thrown open, and the guests were treated to a huge buffet that had been set up for their pleasure.

The royal cooks, painfully aware of the six weeks to follow, had outdone themselves in their preparation of the feast. There were sides of beef, lamb, venison, stag, and boar. There were game birds: ducks, swans, and peacocks, these last two with their feathers restored to them; as well as partridges, quails, pigeons, and larks. There were capons roasted to a golden, juicy turn and geese, succulent and browned—both with their stuffings of dried fruits bursting from them. There were large pies of rabbit and songbirds; whole suckling pigs with lemons in their mouths set on golden platters filled with cress; large pink hams; barrels of icy oysters from the North Sea; whole salmons; and dishes of prawns, some prepared in white wine and others broiled simply in butter with herbs. There were bowls of beets and carrots, platters of baby lettuce steamed in wine, great loaves of fresh baked breads, and cheeses: great wheels of Derby, Stilton, and Cheddar from the surrounding countryside, and soft, subtle Brie from France.

On a separate table rested all manner of sweets for the queen's guests. There were colored jellies in various shapes, cakes soaked in sweet wine, great fruit tarts with bowls of clotted cream, sugar wafers, marzipan, bowls of winter apples and pears, and firm golden oranges from Seville. The wines; a heady, dark red Burgundy and a fruity pale golden wine, flowed in a never-ending stream from the silver pitchers of the royal footmen.

The queen's guests streamed in and out of the dining rooms, helping themselves to the bounty spread before them. They ate with great concentration, stuffing the various foods into their mouths as if the fasting was to last forever rather than a simple forty days' time. The dancing had stopped temporarily, and Elizabeth Tudor sat easily on her gilt throne with its red velvet cushion, watching through hooded eyelids her court as they feasted to excess.

There was a faint smile upon her lips, but whether it bespoke merely amusement or scorn even the most observant could not tell. Many were now falling prey to the excellent wine the queen served, and there was some slight evidence of drunkenness among several of the courtiers. Elizabeth watched it all.

It pleased her immensely that the marriage she had permitted between her royal ward, Angel Christman, and Robert Southwood, the Earl of Lynmouth, was a happy one. The young countess, now visibly enceinte beneath her gown, was radiantly happy, for her husband was obviously deeply in love with her. The queen's mouth softened a little. There, at least, her instinct had been correct. How she would have loved to experience such happiness herself, but she had realized early on in her life that if a man was given the upper hand over a woman he could destroy her in either body, mind, or spirit, if not in all three. The world demanded that one pay for one's weakness of character. She had learned that lesson young. Still, occasionally she saw in some marriages a happy equality that pleased her even if she instinctively knew that such happiness was not for her. One could not be blissfully happy and be a successful queen of England, she thought wryly.

Her eyes moved to Velvet, who had finally granted a dance to her husband. Elizabeth's lips quirked with delight. Eight months ago the chit had been a mere child. Now she capered merrily with her handsome lord, a naughty smile upon her face, her tongue no doubt sharp with some saucy quip. Dearest Skye will be mightily surprised when she finally returns from her voyage to find herself a grandmother by her youngest child, thought the queen, for I have not a doubt that once home in Scotland the girl will breed successfully. I shall miss the wench, for she is sweet of nature and good fun, Elizabeth realized.

The object of the queen's thoughts danced happily with her husband, flirting outrageously with him until he threatened to kiss her before the entire court unless she ceased. In answer Velvet laughed up in his face, trying his patience quite sorely.

The stately pavane came slowly to an end, and the musicians began the waltzlike lavolta. Velvet was claimed by Lord Essex, and Alex moved off to find himself some chilled wine.

Taking a goblet from a passing footman, he sought a quiet corner away from the dancing. There was no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth Tudor had the most elegant, witty, and urbane court in all of Christendom, but he had to admit to himself that as much as he had enjoyed his stay in England he would be glad to return home again. He longed for the smell of clean, fresh air in his nostrils instead of the stink of Londontown. He longed to roam the hills about Dun Broc with his dogs at his heels, instead of the streets of this city with his men about him to deter the cutpurses. He longed for his castle, for simple food, to have Velvet all to himself without her family or their friends. There was so much he had to show her, so much he wanted to share with her, but until they left England none of it would be. Aye, he was eager to be quit of the place.

"Alone, m'lord? How fortuitous for me." Mary de Boult stood in a gown of gold and silver stripes before him, her hands upon her hips. There was something almost blowsy about her, he noticed now. Had her hair always been that flat shade of black?

"Madame." His greeting offered her no encouragement. If anything, the tone of his voice was discouraging.

"Madame," she mimicked him unpleasantly, and he saw that she was drunk. "There was a time, Alexander Gordon, when it was ‘darling' and ‘sweetheart,' not ‘madame.' You have insulted me, m'lord! You have offended me beyond all, and I intend that you pay for it!"

"Indeed, madame, and how have I offended ye? By refusing to become yer lover? By declining to travel a path already so well traveled by so many others? Ye offered yerself, madame, and although I was willing to flirt and play the gallant, never did I lead ye to believe it would be anything else." His expression was icy with disdain.

"You used me to entrap that auburn-haired bitch you're wed to!" she hissed angrily at him.

"Ye used me, too, madame! Ye loved the idea that ye had taken me away from one of the queen's young Maids of Honor. Ye loved the thought that ye had captured the Scots earl, and ye paraded me like a lapdog throughout the entire court to the point of indiscretion. Ye were well paid for yer services, madame. I was, as I recall it, most generous with my gifts. Ye should have no complaints, Lady de Boult. My treatment of ye was fair and honorable by all accounts."

"You bastard!" she snarled and, raising her hand, struck out at him.

Alexander Gordon caught her arm in midair, his fingers tightening about her wrist. His voice, when he spoke, was dangerously low. "Nay, madame, and were ye a man ye'd stand challenged already."

Their eyes locked in deadly combat. Then, without warning, Mary de Boult tore her bodice open with her other hand, grasped one of her bare breasts, and shrieked, "Ahhh, no, my lord! How can you seek to shame me so! Stop! Stop! I pray you!" Her generous breasts spilled wantonly from her gown, and for the briefest moment her eyes sparkled in triumphant defiance at him. Then she began to caterwaul at the top of her lungs while a small crowd gathered about them. "He tried …" She hiccoughed several sobs. "He tried to dishonor me!" She wept for the assembled audience, pointing at the marks upon her bosom.

Lord de Boult pushed his way through the crowd of amused and curious courtiers. "What is this, my lord? What have you done to my wife? I demand that you answer me!"

Alex was only just beginning to recover from his surprise at Mary de Boult's action. Then Velvet was at his side and Essex with her.

"What has happened, my lord?" she asked gently, realizing his shock.

Alex struggled to find a reasonable explanation, for it went against his nature to attack a woman. Still, upon quick reflection, he could find no other way to extricate himself from this very difficult and embarrassing situation. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Yer wife, my lord de Boult, felt she had a quarrel with me. When I refused to allow her to strike me, she tore open her gown in an attempt to make it appear as if I had forced my attentions upon her and therefore have her revenge."

"Nay, Clifford! Nay!" pleaded Lady de Boult. Then she sobbed wildly. "He attempted to have his way with me here in this very alcove, and when I refused him he attacked me! I swear it!"

"Hah!" snapped the Earl of Essex. "More than likely you tried to have your way with him, madame, and he refused! I suspect that it is Lord Gordon's honor that has been damaged in this affair and not yours."

The assembled onlookers laughed.

"Are you calling my wife a liar, my lord Essex?" demanded Clifford de Boult, drawing himself up.

"Use your head, man," argued Essex. "Lady de Boult is fair enough, but next to the Countess of BrocCairn she is like a colored stone to a fine pearl. I believe Lord Gordon. Take your wife home and give her a good beating for causing this trouble in the queen's presence."

The Earl of Essex's words rang with practicality, and secretly Lord de Boult believed him. For him to admit it, however, was impossible, for it would bring shame upon his good name. His honor had been besmirched by this matter, and until that honor was appeased he would not be able to hold his head up at court. Coldly, he looked at Lord Gordon and said, "Tomorrow morning just past dawn in Brightwaters field, my lord?"

Alex nodded. "As you will, sir," he answered.

"Nay!" cried Velvet. "I will not permit it! Nay, Alex!"

Alex turned to Essex. "Will ye be my second, Robert?"

Essex nodded slowly, but he could not resist saying, "Is it worth it for that jade, Alex?"

"It is for my own honor, Robert, which has been impugned by this evening's uproar. In several days' time Velvet and I leave for Scotland. How can I someday return to England with this hanging over my head? I cannot, and therefore the affair must be concluded honorably before we leave for Scotland."

"Nay!" Velvet almost shouted. "You would endanger yourself and our future over this lying trull! No, I say! No!"

Mary de Boult was very much enjoying the scene she had so skillfully engineered. A duel was to be fought, and over her! Her anger and disappointment at having been rejected by the Scotsman was fast fading in light of this delightful development. Then she heard Velvet's words. Gathering the tatters of her bodice, she glowered at her rival and said angrily to her husband, "Did you hear her? I have been mortally insulted, Clifford!"

Wearily he turned a cold face to her. "Would you also have me challenge the Countess of BrocCairn to a duel then, madame?" His fingers grasped his wife's arm, and, turning to Essex, he said, low, "Tender the queen our apologies, but my wife has been taken ill." Then he hustled his spouse from the ballroom.

"This is madness!" Velvet nearly shouted. "We all know, even poor Lord de Boult, that she is lying. We know it, and yet you will duel tomorrow over nothing?"

"We will duel to satisfy the code of honor," Alex said quietly.

"I will go to the queen! You know she has forbidden dueling," Velvet threatened.

"Ye will go home, madame, and ye will say nothing to Elizabeth Tudor," he said softly.

"I will!" Velvet couldn't remember ever having been so angry.

"Nay, Velvet," said Essex soothingly. "There are things a woman does not understand, things she cannot comprehend easily, and dueling is one of those things."

"The queen understands men better than you think," snapped Velvet, "and so do I! Men are naught but little boys!"

"No one will get hurt," Essex promised, smiling his most winning smile at her. "You're right when you say de Boult knows his wife is lying. The bitch has put him in an untenable position. But to admit it would dishonor him even more. It would be like saying he can't control his own wife. He had to challenge Alex. I will see that they fight with their swordpoints tipped. Honor will be quickly and easily satisfied, I promise you."

Velvet looked at her husband, and Alex nodded.

"I agree, lovey. No blood will be shed, and especially not mine." He smiled down at her.

The crowd had dissipated, returning to the dancing, and the queen, if she was aware of the scandal that had exploded in her ballroom, gave no sign of it. The principals involved hoped that by the time she received a full account the duel would be over and done with. Essex had gone back to Elizabeth's side, and Alex and Velvet found themselves surrounded by their family. The incident was retold, and while Willow and Angel expressed their indignation over Lady de Boult's terrible behavior and comforted Velvet, James Edwardes and Robin Southwood, along with Captain Murrough O'Flaherty and Lord Burke of Clearfields Priory , agreed with Alex that the duel must be fought.

"I offer myself as your second," said Robin quietly.

"I also!" enthused Padraic Burke.

Velvet glowered at her brothers, but her annoyance was particularly reserved for Lord Burke. "When did you arrive in London?" she demanded. " 'Tis a strange time to come calling when at midnight Lent begins."

Lord Burke, the master of Clearfields Priory , even handsomer than his late father, Niall, grinned down upon his youngest sister. His silvery eyes twinkled at her and as he spoke he brushed back an errant lock of black hair that tumbled over his high forehead. "I arrived but this evening with Murrough, who sails on the tide tomorrow morning back to India, sweet sister. My signature was necessary upon certain documents, y'see, else I should never have come to this stinkhole of a city." He turned to Alex. "We've not met, my lord. I am Velvet's brother, Padraic Burke of Clearfields Priory. You look none the worse for wear having been married to this wench these last few months."

With another engaging grin Padraic held out his hand, and Alex grasped it, a smile upon his own face. He instinctively liked this young man who stood almost as tall as he himself did and had the graceful body of an athlete.

"Ye feel about London as I do, eh, younger brother?" Alex said.

"If you mean by that that I prefer my lands, then you're right," came Padraic's quick reply.

"Then come visit us in Scotland next summer," said Alex. "We've good hunting and fishing."

"I'll do that!" agreed Padraic. "And perhaps I'll even be the first of our family to see my new nephew—or niece, whichever the case may be."

"I am not with child yet!" snapped Velvet.

"Being home will remedy that, madame," said Alex maddeningly.

"My lords and ladies," came the stentorian voice of the queen's majordomo, " 'Tis midnight. The feasting is over, and the penitential season is upon us. Her Gracious Majesty commands that you all join her in the chapel to receive ashes."

With an almost audible sigh the court trooped forth from the queen's ballroom. The tables lay almost empty and wasted behind them; the musicians had already departed. The solemnity of Lent had fallen about them like some dark cloak, and they were suddenly anxious to be home.

The church service was mercifully brief, and the children of Skye O'Malley quickly found themselves descending the river stairs to the wharf where their barges were lined up and waiting. Velvet had insisted that Padraic stay with them, and Murrough, too, this last night before he sailed. There was more than enough room for them all in the BrocCairn barge, and as the tide was now with them the boat quickly moved upriver to the Strand. The Lynmouth and BrocCairn vessels raced to see which would get home first. They were fairly matched, for while Velvet and Alex carried her two brothers, Robin and Angel had Willow and James as passengers. Both boats finished in a dead heat, which was a disappointment to the bargemen, those on the winning vessel having been promised a purse. The two earls, however, in a burst of generosity, awarded their men their prizes despite the tie. Then calling good night to each other as they passed up their adjoining gardens the Southwood and Gordon parties entered their respective homes.

Murrough's rooms awaited him, and an apartment was quickly prepared for Lord Burke who, kissing his sister good night, whispered, "Don't fret, littlest one, nothing will happen to Alex I promise. Besides, de Boult is not said to be any sort of a swordsman."

Velvet made a little moue with her mouth. "The whole thing is foolishness, and that dreadful jade will brag for weeks afterwards about having caused a duel. Thank God we shall not be here to listen to her."

Murrough hid a smile. Velvet became more like their mother every day. "Shall I bid you farewell now, Velvet?" he asked. "Or will you arise from your snug bed in the morning to see me off?"

"What time will you go?" She looked dubious.

"I must leave Greenwood by half after seven at the latest. The tide is just after eleven in the morning."

"What time is the sunrise?" she said quietly.

"Half after six," said Alex, and he took her hand in his to reassure her.

"I will be up, Murrough. I shall see you off myself."

He nodded and then, bending, kissed her good night.

When Velvet and Alex were undressed and in their own warm bed, she asked him, "Is this duel really necessary? It is foolish of me, I realize, to be frightened, but I cannot help it. No one I've ever known has fought a duel."

He drew her into his arms. "There is no danger, Velvet, lass. Now be a good girl and kiss me, sweetheart."

She gave him her lips in a sweet and tender kiss, but when his hands began to roam lasciviously about her lush body, she slapped them away, saying severely, "Nay, my lord! You need all the sleep you can get! It is past two now, and you must be on your damned field of honor in four hours!"

He swore a mild oath and then chuckled. "Very well, lass, but I hope ye'll not have cause to regret turning me away. Think of the beautiful child we might start this night."

"And shall I explain to him how his father lost an ear in a duel several hours after his conception because he could not resist rutting like a stallion when he needed his sleep?"

Alex laughed outright. "Little Tartar," he scolded. Then, kissing her full on the mouth, he turned her so that her body curved into his, spoon fashion, and, clamping a hand about one of her soft breasts, he fell asleep.

Velvet smiled in the darkness of their room and thought with a contented sigh that she would not find it necessary to take her potion any longer, at least not until after her first child was born. She did regret the fact that she had not let him make love to her, but despite everyone's reassurances and the fact that they all made light of the matter, this duel frightened her. Then she decided she was being foolish. Even if they fought with naked swords, Alex would triumph. De Boult was a much, much older man. She relaxed and snuggled closer into her husband's embrace.

When Velvet awoke, dawn was smearing color across the horizon. She reached for Alex and then, with a frown, remembered. That damned duel! The door to her bedchamber opened and Pansy hurried into the room.

"You're awake then, m'lady? You said you wanted to see Captain O'Flaherty off, and 'tis almost seven o'clock." She held out her mistress's quilted apple-green chamber robe.

Velvet swung her legs from the bed and thrust her feet into her slippers. Standing, she slipped into the robe. "When did his lordship leave?"

"At least half an hour ago. 'Tis only a few minutes' ride to Brightwaters, but no gentleman likes to be late to a duel. 'Tis considered quite rude."

Velvet was forced to smile. "I wasn't aware that you were familiar with the courtesies of dueling, Pansy."

"Oh, you'd be surprised, m'lady, what I heard from the other servants when we was at court. They're a chattery bunch."

Velvet laughed. Pansy could always put her in a good mood. "Has Captain O'Flaherty broken his fast yet?"

"Nay, m'lady."

"Then ask him to break it with me in my dayroom and see that the food is brought quickly, for he did say he had to leave by half after seven o'clock."

"Yes, m'lady," came Pansy's answer, and the servant hurried off.

Within a very few moments both Murrough and the meal arrived. Murrough was dressed for travel in well-made, serviceable but expensive garments. He had but recently celebrated his thirty-second birthday and was a fine figure of a man who looked very much like his mother with his dark hair and his Kerry-blue eyes. The only thing of his sire about him seemed to be his squared jawline, which, though it had been weak in the long-dead but never lamented Dom O'Flaherty, had a firm strength in his younger son.

Smiling, Murrough greeted his youngest sister with a kiss and then sat down. "I still can't believe that you're a properly settled matron," he said with fond indulgence. "I can't wait to see the look on Mother's face when I tell her, not to mention Adam's."

"Don't tell them!" begged Velvet. "I want to surprise them with a grandchild when they return. Can you imagine Papa if I greet him at the docks with a baby in my arms?"

Murrough howled with delight as he pictured the scene. Adam de Marisco absolutely doted on his daughter, his beloved only child. It had never bothered him one whit that Alex Gordon had ignored Velvet from the day of their betrothal, for Adam had preferred to be the most important man in his daughter's life, only barely tolerating her half brothers who were equally enamored of her because she was so like their adored mother in character. Willow had been a prim and proper English miss from the start, always mother-henning them, and Deirdre had been a shy and insecure little mouse of a girl. It had always been Velvet who was the imp.

Murrough wiped his eyes, for he had laughed so hard that he'd begun to cry. "I should like to indulge you, poppet, but Mother, having been penned up these many months in a hot city, will be anxious for the open sea and might decide to go adventuring once more unless I can offer her an incentive to return home. Your marriage will be just the incentive. I'll wager that when Mother hears you're already a wife, even possibly with child, she will wish our ships had wings. You're very dear to her, Velvet."

"And she to me, Murrough. Aye, you had best tell them. It will give Papa time to calm his famous temper. 'Twill no doubt be winter once again when you return to England, dearest brother. You'll send a messenger by the fastest horses, won't you? I will feel so much better just knowing that Mama and Papa are safely home again."

"Aye, dear one," he answered her, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

"How are Joan and the children?" she inquired as she served him a large plate of eggs poached in marsala and cream, which had been placed on a thick slice of pink ham. "It was thoughtless of me not to ask you last night." She poured a tankard of brown ale and handed it to him.

"They are fine, but I left Henry angry at me for leaving him behind this time. Joan, however, is grateful. We promised the boy he could go off with the O'Malley uncles this spring, which has mollified him somewhat. He'll not find the Spanish Indies too tame, I'll warrant, although I will admit I made it sound safer to Joan than it actually is. Still, the O'Malleys will see that he comes to no harm, and the lad has to learn if he's to make the sea his life. He has no great love for book learning like our brother Ewan."

Velvet nodded and attacked her own plate with vigor. For several minutes they ate in silence, for neither were considered poor trenchermen by those who knew them. They ate with enjoyment and an obvious appreciation for the subtlety of the sauce that covered the eggs. Both were therefore surprised when the door to the room burst open and Padraic stumbled in, white and drawn.

Velvet looked at Lord Burke and then her hand went to her throat as she spoke but one word. "Alex?"

"An accident," burst out Lord Burke. "Oh, God! It was awful!"

The room dimmed before her eyes, but with a monumental burst of willpower Velvet refused to faint. Her voice, when she managed to find it, was ragged with fear. "What happened, Padraic? For God's good mercy, tell us!"

"We arrived at Brightwaters just as Lord de Boult did. Essex was already there with the queen's physician. The doctor said the queen had told him to go with Robert Devereux that morning. God's nightshirt! Is there nothing she doesn't know?"

Velvet's eyes were round with shock.

"What happened, Padraic?" repeated Murrough tensely. "Get on with it, laddie!"

"Both Alex and Lord de Boult agreed to Essex's suggestion that the swords be tipped with wax balls. The duel began, and both men fought well, but soon Lord de Boult began to tire. Suddenly the wax ball flew from his blade tip, and he stumbled. There was no time for Alex to get clear. It was an accident, but the blade pierced him. Oh, God! I've never seen so much blood! Essex cried out, ‘Jesu, man, you've killed him!' When they carried him from the field, I rode back to tell you, Velvet. I couldn't let them bring him home to you like that … not without warning you." He began to weep. "Oh, God, littlest one, I am so sorry!"

Velvet sat very still in her chair, her beautiful face devoid of both expression and color. Neither of her brothers spoke, and the only thing that could be heard in the silence was the slow and reassuring tick of the mantel clock. Then suddenly, without warning, she began to weep wildly. The tears surged down her face in an abundant and fast flow. Within moments her eyes were swollen with her unassuaged grief. "Mama," she wept piteously. "I want my mother!"

For a moment Murrough was shocked. Was Velvet still just a child that she called for their mother? Then it hit him. She was no child but a woman finally grown. Alex was dead, and she had already accepted it. Now she called for someone she loved as deeply to comfort her in her unbearable grief. He was quickly at her side, and she cried into his shoulder as he murmured soft, unintelligible sounds in an effort to comfort her.

After a few minutes her tears ceased, and, looking up at him, she whispered brokenly, "Take me with you, Murrough. Please take me with you!"

"Velvet!" Padraic Burke was finally coming to his senses.

"Have you no respect for Alex? You must bury your husband, Velvet. You can't leave him!"

She turned her head to look at him, and he saw the terrible grief in her green eyes.

"Why can I not leave him, Padraic?" she said bitterly. "He left me! I pleaded with him not to involve himself in this meaningless duel with Lord de Boult, but no! Honor must be served, which I could not possibly understand being but a simple woman." Her voice was thick with pain and scorn. "Well, this much I do understand, Padraic. I am widowed three months after my marriage, and for what? Because two grown men could not admit either to themselves or to each other that a whoring jade had lied?" She began to weep once more.

"You must bury him, Velvet," Padraic repeated helplessly.

"Bury him?" Her voice was suddenly hoarse with horror. "I can't bury him, Padraic! Enclose him in some dark tomb? Dear God, no! Besides, he would not want to be buried here in England. Let his men take his body back home to Dun Broc. He was the last of the Earls of BrocCairn. There will be no heirs of his body, and that much is all my fault!" She looked desperately at Murrough and begged once again, "Take me with you, brother! I won't make the long trip to Scotland, and what is there for me here? I cannot face the pity of our family or the court. I will go mad for certain! If there is any kindness in you, Murrough, take me with you. I will die here alone. Oh, Alex, why? Why? I do not understand, and I never shall!" Then she wept once more, falling back into her chair, her face in her hands, her slender shoulders wracked by heartbroken sobs.

Murrough watched her, and a deep sigh rent his frame. It was imperative that he leave this day. It was already a week past his intended departure date. He would just reach the Indian Ocean in time to catch the favoring winds before they reversed their course, making it difficult, if not impossible, to cross that body of water. Still, how could he leave her? He made an attempt to reason with her. "Velvet, I would take you with me, poppet, but I must go now, today. Mother's life depends upon my swift return. If I delay even another day I could lose the favorable weather I need to get across the Indian Ocean safely. I cannot wait for you!"

"I can go now, today," she said. "My things are already packed for the trip north."

"But you'll need lightweight garments for the Indies, my dear. The climate is terribly hot and steamy."

"Pansy knows where everything is," she reassured him.

"Please, Murrough, I beg of you! Don't leave me behind. I need Mother!"

He glanced at the clock upon the mantel and then made his decision. It was madness, but her frame of mind was precarious just now, and he believed she would be better off with him away from all that was familiar. The pain of her grief would be no less, but it should ease faster in a different setting. "Can you be ready in an hour?"

The tension drained momentarily from Velvet's body. "Aye, I can be ready," she said.

"You're mad, both of you!" Padraic shouted, but Velvet had already run from the room, calling for Pansy.

Murrough shrugged helplessly. "How can I leave her under these circumstances?" he demanded of his younger sibling. "You don't understand her, but I do. She is just like Mother in that she feels things with greater intensity than the rest of us. She loves with all her being, and she hates and grieves the same way. This grief will consume her here with all her memories of Alex, and if she returns to our dear Dame Cecily at Queen's Malvern that good worthy will baby our sister into a wasting sickness." Then he glared at Padraic. "You're sure?" he demanded. "You're absolutely certain that Alex received a mortal wound, Padraic?"

Padraic Burke looked offended. "Of course I'm certain," he snapped. "There was blood all over him, and Essex said most distinctly that he'd been killed. They carried him to a nearby house so that the queen's physician could do his duty in comfort as it was beginning to snow. It's stopped now," he finished helplessly.

Murrough put his arm about his brother. "I'm not sure how wise you were to hurry here with the news, but 'tis done now, and I've no other choice than to take Velvet with me."

A short while later a barge pulled away from Greenwood's small dock and steered a course for the London pool where Murrough's vessel, Sea Hawk , stood awaiting the outgoing tide. From an upper window Padraic Burke watched the barge go and felt a deep sorrow in his heart. Velvet's chambers were now empty and silent. Then something caught his eye, and, bending, he picked up a dainty glove. Crushing it to his cheek, he smelled the fragrance of gillyflowers and a tear slid down his cheek.

Slowly Padraic turned from the river and, walking to the sideboard, poured himself a goblet of Archambault Burgundy. He downed it in three deep gulps and poured himself another. Sitting before the banked fire with both decanter and cup, he drank himself to sleep, for he had had little enough rest the night before and his exhaustion, coupled with the shock his system had suffered that morning made him all the more vulnerable.

Awaking with a sour mouth some time later, his temples throbbing hurtfully, he saw by the mantel clock that it was well after one in the afternoon. Stumbling to his feet, he made his way downstairs. Alex's body would undoubtedly be placed in the main room for the mourners.

Willow would probably lay Padriac out in lavender for allowing Murrough to take Velvet, as if he could have stopped either of them. Willow would be furious at Velvet's lack of decorum, but they would simply have to tell everyone that the widow was too prostrate with grief to attend the funeral and, besides, the body was going home to Scotland. It was a perfectly plausible explanation.

Reaching Greenwood's lower level, Padraic saw Dugald, the earl's man, just entering the house, and he hurried toward him. "Have you brought the earl's body home then?" he asked.

"He's too badly injured to move right now," replied Dugald, "but the queen's physician says he'll live to be an old man yet."

Padraic Burke suddenly felt sick. He heard his older brother's voice demanding, "You're sure?"

Finding his voice, he gasped, "Alex is alive? He's not dead?"

"Dead?" Dugald looked surprised. "What in hell made ye think that, my lord?"

"The blood," said Padraic helplessly. "All that blood, and Essex said de Boult had killed Alex. He said it."

"Essex!" Dugald said scornfully. "What the devil would that gallant know about death? 'Twould take more than just a sword's prick to kill the Gordon of BrocCairn."

"Where is Alex?"

"They carried the earl to the nearest house, one owned by a Master Wythe, a silversmith. They dared move him no farther, and he must remain there until his wound is closed so that there will be no danger of it opening and bleeding again. We believed ye came on ahead to tell her ladyship, but when she did not come I was sent to fetch her and to reassure her that my lord will survive though he is sleeping now with the draught the queen's physician gave him."

"Jesu!" groaned Padraic Burke. "What have I done?" And then he was calling for his horse and running through the door, while behind him the Earl of BrocCairn's man stared after him in open-mouthed confusion.