“Sir, you presume a great deal! I do, however offer you my deepest sympathy on the loss of your wife and children.”
“You knew? How?”
“De Grenville told me earlier this evening.” She turned and walked a little ways from him. “I understand I am also to wish you felicitations on an upcoming marriage. Is it Mistress Knollys? And will you honeymoon on your barge?”
“I don’t own a barge.”
“Why, sir,” she said scathingly, “did you not win de Grenville’s barge? I understood the wager was his barge against your stallion. He is quite distressed by the loss of the animal.”
“Damn de Grenville for a fool!” swore the Earl. “Sweetheart, listen to me! The bet was made when you snubbed me, on the first day we ever met. I had no intention of collecting on it. It had nothing to do with our falling in love later on. I intended to tell Dickon so, but I forgot it when I was summoned to Devon. That worthless bitch I married had brought my son, Henry, home when there was smallpox in the village. He came home only to die! That she and four of her girls perished as well is only God’s judgment. Then it was touch and go with the three youngest. I stayed on until they were well. I am not entirely heartless, Skye. They’re but four and five.”
“You might have written me!”“Frankly it did not occur to me. I am not a man of words, Skye. The pox swept through my estates like wildfire, and I was kept damned busy. My bailiff died, among others, and until I could replace him I did his work.”
“You’ve been back at Court for a while, my lord! You might have sent me a message. A posy of flowers. Something! But you were too busy finding an heiress to replace your dead wife! I hate you, Geoffrey! I will never forgive you! You used me like a common trollop! You lied to me!” Angrily she turned away so he might not see the tears springing into her eyes. “I was warned that you were the biggest bastard in London, but God help me I would not believe it!”
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I have spent the time since my return to Court arranging my next marriage.” Her shoulders shook, and his ears caught a muffled sob. “The lady I wish to make the next Countess of Lynmouth is one of the most beautiful women in London. She is wealthy, so I need not fear that she seeks my money. Her manners are flawless and she is an excellent hostess, able to deal graciously with those of high and low estate. She is the perfect mate for me.”
His voice was filled with such love and admiration that each word he spoke was like a great knife thrust in to her heart.
“There was only one problem that might have prevented the match,” he continued, “so it was necessary that I convince the Queen that, despite this impediment, I would have no other woman to wife.”
“I-I-I am not interested, my lord Earl.” Turning, she tried to push past him, but he held her fast. Her face was pressed against the velvet of his doublet. “I must return to my guests,” she pleaded.
He ignored her. “The lady in question is not English. She claims to be an Irish orphan who wed a Spanish merchant and was then widowed. So I have represented her to the Queen. I know, however, that the story is not true. She was a captive slave of unknown background who was fortunate enough to catch the eye of the great Whoremaster of Algiers. He took her under his protection, and when he was murdered she fled Algiers with his wealth. But I love her, and I want her for my wife. I have convinced the Queen of the wisdom of my choice. She has given me her permission for us to wed.”
Skye pulled away from the Earl, and when she looked up at him her eyes were blazing blue fire.
“I do not know how you have obtained your information. Though your facts are correct you know nothing at all! Yes, I was brought as a captive to Khalid el Bey-that was his name, my lord Earl. I had no memory of who I was or where I had come from, but he didn’t care. He might have made me a whore in one of his houses, or he might have made me his concubine. He did neither. I was indeed under his protection. But, my lord Earl, I was also his wife! Are you so narrow-minded that you believe a marriage doesn’t exist unless it is celebrated by a Christian priest? The chief mullah of Algiers wed me to my lord Khalid! I was well and truly married!”
She was pacing back and forth now, her burgundy silk skirts swishing angrily. Her hair had come loose, and as she turned to face him again it swung fiercely with her. “My daughter, sir, bears her father’s Christian surname, for he was a Spaniard by birth, driven from that cursed land by the cruelty of the Inquisition. I expect, my lord, that even you can understand that! You will find in the baptis- mal registry of St. Mary’s Church in Bideford the name of Mary Willow Goya del Fuentes!
“I could not wed with you, my lord! It would be grossly unfair to mingle my unknown blood and tainted body with such as yours. I fully understand the great honor you do me, but no!” And pushing past him, she fled the room.
Geoffrey Southwood stood stunned and disbelieving as Robert Small entered the room and closed the door behind him.
“What the hell did you do to her?” growled the little captain.
“I asked her to marry me.”
“Why?”
“Because I love her!” shouted the Earl. “I told her I knew the truth of her past, and it mattered not. I even have the Queen’s permission.”
“Laddie, laddie, you’re a fool. Did she tell you that she has no memory prior to her life in Algiers?”
“Yes.”
“Listen to me, my lord. I am old enough to be your father, and I’ll speak to you as one. Her husband was my best friend in all this world. He was bom the second son of an old and noble family, but fate decreed that he live a life far different than that for which he believed himself intended. Whatever his profession, he was a true gentleman in every sense.
“You love Skye. So did he, with all his heart. She was his joy, his pride, and he wanted nothing more than to spend his life with her and the children they wanted to have. He had just learned, before; he was murdered, that he was to be a father, and his happiness came j close to making me weep.” Robbie breathed deeply and turned to sit. Southwood sat across from him. “I invented Skye’s background in order to protect her and the child. Now, Geoffrey lad, I will help you to bring Skye around, for the stubborn wench loves you and has sighed and wept enough over you these last few months. I don’t suppose she told you she’s with child?”
“Oh my God!” the Earl whispered.
“No?” said Robbie drily. “Well, she is angry with you. Well, we must be firm then. I have just the way to settle this, but you must go along with me in all I say. Agreed?” Southwood slowly nodded. ”Come along then, lad, and I’ll show you how to neatly trap a vixen.”
They came back out to the large salon where Skye and the Queen were holding court together, surrounded by a laughing group of courtiers. They worked their way forward carefully until they were next to the young Queen. Elizabeth was looking especially lovely, her glorious red-gold hair a mass of long, loose ringlets, her smoky eyes sparkling. Her gown was of apple-green silk embroidered heav- ily with gold, small pearls, and topaz.
“Is the guest of honor finally among us?” said the Queen, laugh- ing. “Pray, sir, where have you and my lord Southwood been?”
“Settling the details of the match that’s so dear to your kind Majesty’s heart. As Mistress Goya del Fuentes’ parentis in absentia, it was my duty. Now, madam, with your gracious permission I shall delay my departure by one day in order to give the bride away. Can your Majesty persuade the archbishop to waive the banns and wed the happy couple tomorrow?”