"I am still not sure that I want to marry again," she said softly.
“That feeling will pass," he said with such certainty that she had to laugh.
"Adam!"
"Well, it will! Besides, we should wait a year."
"A whole year?" she teased him.
"Well," he reconsidered, "perhaps not a whole year. After all, little girl, Niall was presumed dead over three years ago, and the Queen gave you no time to mourn then."
“That is why I need a little time now, Adam," was her reply. "I was hustied into marriage with the Duc de Beaumont de Jaspre three months after Niall's alleged murder. It was indecent of Elizabeth Tudor, but I needed her help, and she needed a bride to send to the duc. Give me time now, my darling. We will go up to Paris with your family, and enjoy all the festivities that go with the marriage of a royal princess and an heir to France's throne. We do not need to be married to have a good time, my darling Adam!" Her eyes twinkled humorously at him. "We have never needed to be wed to have a good time, my lord of Lundy!"
"You are a minx," he said, and his own eyes twinkled back at her. Then his hand moved to the little pearl buttons on her rose-colored caftan. "Do you remember the last time that you wore this for me?" he asked. Skye shook her head in the negative. "When I came to London just before you departed for Beaumont de Jaspre. You told me that you were being sold into marriage, a loveless marriage, and that before you went we would spend our time together loving each other so we might have sweet memories. Do you remember now, Skye?" He bared a soft, round breast and, bending, kissed it tenderly.
"Yes," she whispered. "I remember, Adam."
"Did he love you, your duc?" His tongue flicked out to begin a tortuous encirclement of her sensitive nipple.
Skye shivered as the warmth of his tongue and the cool air of the early evening worked together to bring her nipple to a hard point. "Fabron did not know how to love," she gasped as he bared her other breast and began to tease at it. "He was a sad man. Damn, Adam! You will drive me wild! Stop!"
"I adore you wild!" he chuckled indulgently.
Her answer was to fumble with the laces on his silk shirt, and successful at that, slip her hands inside to caress his broad back. She could feel the hard muscles beneath his skin tense as he restrained himself. Wickedly she ran her sharp nails lightly down the skin, and heard with total satisfaction his sharp intake of breath. She impishly caught at the lobe of his ear and gently bit it.
"Wench," he growled with mock fierceness, "you shall pay for that liberty!"
"Make me!" she taunted, and then squealed as he yanked the caftan apart, baring her to his fiery gaze.
His hands slid with delicious familiarity over her torso, and to his vast amusement she sighed with great delight. "Wanton!" he muttered at her.
"You don't understand, Adam," she said. 'The last time a man made love to me it was not because he loved me. It was because I belonged to him, and he sought to relieve his lust. When you touch me it is with love. Oh, my darling Adam, I want you to touch me with love! I want you to make love to me! I so very much need to be loved again as a woman, and not as a possession!"
His smoky blue eyes gazed down into hers. "It is not a very hard task you set me, Skye," he said softly.
"Love me," she repeated as softly, and his mouth again descended upon hers to make her his warm and willing captive. Her arms slipped up around his neck to draw him even closer, her round and tender breasts pressed hard against his furred chest. He had never kissed her with such deep passion, his sensuous mouth seemingly welded to hers, sending alternate shivers and waves of heat throughout her body. He demanded much, yet he gave as well, and Skye felt herself soaring under the sweet pressure of his lips. She yielded herself to him, to his care, and he kissed her hungrily, muttering fiercely against her mouth, "I love you! I love you, my sweet Skye!"
Then they heard it, the insistent knocking at the bedchamber door. With a smothered curse Adam broke away from her, roaring, "What is it, dammit?!"
The door opened. "It is time that you begin to ready yourselves for the evening meal, mes enfants," Mignon said calmly with all the smug privilege of an upper servant of long standing.
"Go away, Mignon!"
"Non, M'sieur Adam! Your maman has had the cooks preparing for days for your arrival. She would be most distressed if you did not appear in the dining hall tonight." Her cherry-black eyes twinkled. "You had best eat, mon chou! I suspect you will need all your strength for later." She chuckled. "Up with you now, and go to Guillaume. He is waiting to dress you."
Grumbling about no privacy and being treated like a lad not yet breeched, Adam de Marisco got up and, with a regretful look at Skye, left the room.
With a pretty blush Skye drew the two edges of her caftan together and sat up. "Were you able to salvage one of my gowns?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject and save her dignity.
"Oui, madame," came the cheerful reply, "and madame must not be embarrassed. We French understand about love, and it is most obvious that you and M'sieur Adam love each other. Then, too, you are betrothed, and who is to gainsay you if you love a little while you wait to wed." She smiled at Skye. "Come now, madame. I have managed to ready a lovely silk gown for you the blue-green color of the sea. Let me bring you your jewelry case so you may decide what you will wear with it."
"I have no jewelry case with my clothes," Skye said. "My jewels went back to England with my tiring woman."
"Perhaps she forgot, madame, for there is a small carved ivory box among your things," Mignon replied.
Skye shook her head. She did not remember an ivory box, and it was not like Daisy to forget her jewelry. "Bring it to me," she commanded.
Mignon disappeared into the garderobe a moment, returning quickly with a rectangular box carved of creamy ivory. "There you are, madame," she said, placing the box in Skye's lap.
As the maidservant turned away to finish her chores, Skye turned the little gold key that was in the lock, opened the box, and gasped with a mixture of shock and surprise as the lid raised to reveal the contents. Stuck within the lid was a folded parchment, and prilling it out, Skye opened it to read: Doucette, I had these made for you when I thought you might return to me. Since I will not give my wife jewelry made for another woman, I beg that you take this small offering that was meant only for you. Nicolas.