“A percentage of the profits, Niall,” she said sharply, then continued. “In a few days we will take the Santa Maria Madre de Cristos, King Philip’s treasure ship meant for Elizabeth. She will never see so much as one gold piece!”
Niall was so stunned that for several minutes he could not speak at all. Various emotions rose and ebbed within him like a tide. Amazement and admiration at her daring. Anger that she should endanger them all in her quest for revenge. Sorrow that he had not been there to protect her from Dudley. He didn’t know whether to kiss her or kill her.
“You can’t beat me,” she said, anticipating him. “I am with child.”
“Good God, woman!” he burst out, and she began to cry. Then Niall started to laugh. “You’re the most impossible female God ever created, Skye. You wage war on England, and still retain all you possess. Did it never occur to you that you might be caught?” “No!”
“Indeed, and why not?” He was fascinated.
“There is nothing to connect me, de Marisco, or the O’Malleys with any acts of piracy.”
“You’re sure?”
“Aye. My ships fly no flags. My people do not speak, they communicate with whistles and hand signals. The cargoes have been carefully disposed of, and I even pirated two of my own ships last summer to keep suspicion away from me.”
“But Cecil has obviously sent de Grenville to capture the pirates.
You can’t take this bait.”
“My fleet sails tonight from Lundy. By the time Dickon and his people meet the Santa Maria its cargo will have been long since removed and stored safely in caves on Inishturk. This is my last venture against the Queen, Niall. I swear it.”
“And de Marisco kissing you? I trust that was a last venture as well?”
“He was saying good-bye,” she said softly.
He pulled her into his arms and brushed her lips with his. “When is the child due?”
“Our baby will be born early next winter.”
“There will be no more adventures, Skye,” he said sternly. “I want your promise.”
“I must think on it,” she said mischievously.
“Madam, your word!” he thundered.
“Very well, my lord,” she lisped meekly, and he looked at her suspiciously. Skye giggled. “I’m having a necklace and a pair of earrings made from the emeralds taken from the treasure ship. I shall so enjoy flaunting them under the Queen’s nose.” Niall laughed again. “Impossible!” he said, and kissed her again. Less than a week later, on Midsummer’s Eve, Skye and Niall stood in the west tower of Lynmouth Castle and watched the celebration bonfires spring up on Lundy. Three, lined up straight in a neat row, told her what she wanted to know. The Santa Maria Madre de Cristos had been successfully taken and its cargo was already hidden. A deep satisfaction swept over her. Turning to her husband, she said, and meant, the words he had so eagerly worked to hear. “I love you, Niall.” With a glad cry he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately.
The Devon summer was sweeter that year than any summer they remembered. But in London, Elizabeth Tudor fumed with impotent rage. King Philip’s treasure ship had been boldly pirated from under de Grenville’s very nose. The King was both outraged at the incident and frankly scornful of Elizabeth’s ability to keep order in her own land. This piqued Elizabeth more than the loss of the treasure. She had borrowed heavily from the goldsmiths to finance her household, anticipating the wealth of the treasure ship. Now she was heavily in debt and several of her creditors had already shown they were not intimidated by her royal office.
“Is there no evidence to connect Lady Burke with the piracy, Cecil? Surely there is something we can use?” William Cecil had finally confided his suspicions to Elizabeth.
“Madam, there is nothing. All the O’Malley ships are where they should be, and there is no evidence of the treasure ship’s cargo anywhere. We searched both Innisfana and Lundy.” “I want her arrested, Cecil.”
“On what charges, madam?”
Elizabeth whirled to face him and he saw the angry red patches on her white cheeks. “I am the Queen, Cecil! I do not need formal charges! Lady Burke has offended me, and I want her in the Tower!” “Madam!” Cecil was shocked. “This is not like you.”
“Dammit, Cecil, we know she is guilty!”
“We suspect, my lady Elizabeth.” He had not spoken to her so familiarly, so gently, since she had become Queen. “We only suspect, and since the Santa Maria Madre de Cristos was taken, no other ships have been pirated despite the fact that this is the busiest season for shipping.”
The Queen remained adamant. “I want her in the Tower,” she said. “Perhaps, if we frighten her, we can force her to confess. I need that gold, Cecil! My creditors press me.”
Cecil sighed. If Lady Burke had hated Elizabeth before, she would hate her far more very soon. The Irish were so damned emotional! Offending both the O’Malleys and the Burkes could rouse all of Connaught, starting a conflagration that might spread through Ireland. We don’t need a war in Ireland now, Cecil thought wearily.
“What of Lord Burke?” he asked:
“He is to remain in Devon,” said Elizabeth. “He is forbidden to come to London or to go to Ireland. Let him look after that shewolf’s whelps.”
“The Countess has many admirers, madam. They will not be happy to see her imprisoned unjustly, and the talk could be detrimental to Your Majesty.”
“Then do it secretly, Cecil… Send de Grenville. Since he lost me my ship, let him see if he can redeem himself by delivering the Countess safely and secretly to the Tower. Tell the governor there is to be no official record of the lady. If no one knows she is in London, and her husband is confined to Devon, then there will be no Court gossip.”
“I do not approve of this, madam,” Cecil tried one more time.
“But you will obey me nevertheless, my lord,” returned Elizabeth. He nodded. “You are my Queen, and you’ve always learned from your mistakes. I expect you will in this instance, too.” He couldn’t resist making his opinion clear.
The Queen’s head shot up. Cecil’s face was impassive, but was there a hint of a twinkle in his eyes?
The late Devon summer offered promise of a bountiful harvest. Along the roadside late wild roses and Michaelmas daisies fought a territorial war. The haying had long since been done, and the grain lay stacked in the fields. The apple trees were heavy with fruit, some early varieties ready for picking, the later ones not quite ripe. The apple presses would soon be busy turning out Devon’s famous cider. Into this peaceful setting rode Richard de Grenville, a troupe of the Queen’s own at his back. Dickon was troubled, even horrified, and under orders he did not understand. He had been incredulous when Cecil gave him those orders.
“I know that you like wine, my lord,” said Cecil, “and you’ve been known to be loose-lipped when in your cups.” Here de Grenville flushed guiltily. “It would be most unwise to babble this news, for the Queen wishes total secrecy.” De Grenville had nodded. Richard de Grenville and his men clattered over the drawbridge and into the courtyard of Lynmouth Castle. He dismounted and made his way into the castle, where he was informed that Lord and Lady Burke were in the small family hall. Arriving there, Dickon stood for a moment, unobserved, looking at Skye and her family. Then his heart contracted. Skye moved, and he could see that she was with child. She sat with Lord Burke. His arm was loosely about her expanded waist, his big hand gently caressing the living mound of her belly. She lay her head back against his shoulder and smiled up at him, a smile of such incredible sweetness that de Grenville thought he would weep. Well, he couldn’t stand there forever. He cleared his throat and stepped noisily into the room.