“Also built by your grandfather for a belle amie?” she teased him.
The Earl laughed. He was so intent on Skye that he did not notice Niall Burke’s stunned look. Her voice! It was her voice! Her name and her voice.
“Lord and Lady Burke. I am delighted to meet you,” she looked straight at Niall without a flicker of recognition. Her voice reflected only politeness. Niall Burke thought he was surely going mad. Mas- tering his fear and anguish, he said, “You’ll forgive us, my lord, if we leave early. Constanza complains of one of her violent head- aches.”
“I am sorry,” replied the Earl, immediately sympathetic.
“Have you tried infusing witchhazel bark in warm water, then soaking a soft linen cloth in it and putting it on your forehead, Lady Burke?”
“Why thank you, Senora Goya del Fuentes, I have not heard of that but I shall try it.” murmured Constanza. Feeling Niall’s grip on her arm becoming insistent, she curtseyed and turned away.
“What a strange man,” said Skye. watching the Burkes’ retreating backs. “He stared so intently at me.”
Geoffrey laughed. “I wonder why. Could it be because you’re the most beautiful woman here?” He lowered his voice. “Sweetheart, you know what I want to say to you.”
“Yes,” she replied softly, her cheeks growing hot.
“If I come to you tonight, my darling…”
“I know I’m behaving like a damned coy maid,” she answered him, “but no man had ever loved me but my dearest lord. I don’t know if I could let you, Geoffrey. I want you, but I’m afraid. Can you understand?”
“When the Queen leaves,” he said quietly, “go home and wait for me. We will talk, Skye. I love you, and what is between us must be resolved. You feel that, too, don’t you?”
She nodded at him, her eyes huge and deepest blue. He smiled reassuringly at her, and the icy fear she had felt deep inside her dissolved in a quick, warm glow. He loved her! He had said so plainly!
Her soaring thoughts were interrupted as de Grenville arrived. ”The Queen would speak with you, Mistress Skye. Allow me to escort you,” he offered.
“We shall both escort you, my love,” said the Earl firmly.
As they reached Elizabeth, the Queen ordered her page to bring a stool for Skye. Then she waved the two gallants away without a word, her beautiful hands gesturing imperiously. “You’re popular with the gentlemen, mistress,” Elizabeth commented as the two men moved away.
Skye laughed. “My lord de Grenville is an old friend of my business partner, Sir Robert Small. Like Robbie, he feels he must protect me.”
“And that rogue, Southwood?”
“The Earl does not feel… protective toward me,” Skye twinkled and Elizabeth laughed, the deep gray eyes bright.
“An understatement, mistress!” she chuckled. “A woman of wit, I see. I like that! Tell me of yourself now. How did you come to be Sir Robert Small’s partner?”
“Of myself there is little to tell, Majesty. I am Irish, or so I have been told. I was left in a convent in Algiers at a very young age and I know nothing about my background. Several years ago I was wed to a wealthy Spanish merchant of that city. Robbie was his partner. When my lord died two years ago I was forced to flee Algiers because a Turkish governor had plans to force me into his harem. Robbie rescued me and my husband’s French secretary, Jean Marlaix, and his wife Marie. She and I were both with child when we fled. My daughter was born here in England, for which I thank God.”
“So you arrived here a poor widow, and Sir Robert Small took you in?”
“Poor? Oh, no, madam! I had, by Moslem law, one month to mourn my husband. During that time I secretly arranged for the sale of all my husband’s goods and properties and I had the monies transferred to England. Oh, no, madam! My daughter and I are hardly penniless.”
“ Ton my soul, mistress, you are a cool one. I like that. Indeed I do. So you have gone into business with Sir Robert Small, have you? Good! I like an intelligent woman, one who uses her brain as well as her body. Are you at all educated? You must be.”
“Yes, Majesty. I speak and read English, French, Italian, Spanish, and Latin. I can write and am competent with figures.”
“Very well, mistress. I am impressed with what I see and hear. Cecil will arrange an appointment with you and Sir Robert. We will all talk. I think perhaps a royal charter will be forthcoming.”
Skye rose and curtseyed deeply. “Majesty, I am most grateful.”
Elizabeth stood. Instantly the Earl of Lynmouth appeared by her side.
“Southwood, I am weary. It has been a busy holiday season. Escort me to my barge.”
The Queen and her escort moved between the bowing and curt- seying guests, a path to the door opening before them. Robert and de Grenville took possession of Skye once more.
“Will you stay, Skye lass?”
“No, Robbie, I am tired. I have already bid Geoffrey good night. Please escort me to my coach. But you remain if you like.”
“I’ll go. I’m longing for a good pint and a warm wench. The atmosphere here is too rarefied to suit me. De Grenville, will you join me?”
“Aye,” came the smiling reply.
‘Take my coach,” offered Skye.
“Ah, lass, bless your generosity.”
They left her safe inside her house, and drove off. Skye handed her cloak to Walters, her majordomo. “Lock up,” she said, “Captain Small will not be back tonight.”
“Very well, madam.”
Skye hurried up the stairs to her apartment, where Daisy awaited her.
“Oh, mum, did you see her? Did you see Young Bess? We watched her barge from the top of the house!”
“Yes, Daisy, I met the Queen. We spoke twice this evening, and I shall see her again.”
Daisy’s eyes were round with excitement. “Is she pretty, close up?”
“Yes, Daisy, she is very pretty, with lovely fair skin and red-gold hair and bright gray eyes.”
“Oh, mum, when I tell me mother back in Devon that I saw the Queen’s barge, and that my mistress even spoke to her! She’ll be so proud!”
Skye smiled. ‘Tomorrow I shall tell you what the Queen wore tonight, but for now help me get ready for bed.”
Obediently Daisy went to work, unlacing her mistress’s gown, helping her disrobe. The beautiful velvet gown was brushed carefully and hung back in the wardrobe. Silken undergarments were gathered up to be given to the laundress. Skye slipped into a pale-pink silk gown with a deep V neckline secured by tiny pearl buttons. The long full sleeves floated, the skirt clung.
Daisy brought a silver basin of warmed rose water, and Skye washed her face and hands and cleaned her teeth. “Shall I brush your hair, mum?”
“Nay, Daisy, I’ll do it. It’s late. Go to bed.”
Daisy curtseyed. “Good night then, mum.”
“Good night, Daisy.”
The door closed behind the little maid, and Skye sat down at her dressing table. Slowly she removed the diamond and pearl ornaments and drew the gold and tortoiseshell pins from her hair. It tumbled down, a night-dark cloud. Picking up her brush, she vigorously brushed the tangles out, all the while wondering if Geoffrey would come… and if she really wanted him to. What would happen if he did come?
She laughed. What would happen, indeed! She would become his mistress, of course. She frowned. Was that what she wanted? To become some nobleman’s mistress? Oh, damn! She was burning for a man’s caress, the hardness of a man’s body on hers. Might she not have a discreet affair and let it go at that? Surely he would understand her desire for privacy. If he did not, then she would stop the affair.