She turned away, and the curtain fluttered down to cover the window.
It occurred to Conor that all the fine clothes in the world couldn't
change the simple young woman. What beauty Emma possessed
came from within. She had no need of satin gowns and fancy
adornments. Nothing could improve upon what nature had already
given her. She was, in his humble opinion, as perfect as a female
could be.
As he slowly circled the gardens with the queen and her retinue of.
laughing females, his thoughts kept drifting back to Emma. The way
she had looked asleep in his arms. All soft and dreamy. And the way
his blood had heated at the sight of her in that state of undress.
In both instances, he'd reacted in a purely male fashion. Though
Emma deserved to be shielded from such instincts, there was no
denying that he was far more attracted to her than he cared to admit.
"I wish to be amused, Conor." The queen's words brought him out of
his reverie.
"Then you have chosen the perfect companion, madam. I'm happy to
see you in such high spirits."
"Aye. Though the thoughts shared by Lord Dunstan gave me a most
unpleasant night. But I've decided to put aside such gloom today. Tell
me something amusing, Conor."
"Have I told you about the time my brother and I found a jug of Friar
Malone's wine beside the altar, and decided to have just a wee taste?"
"You young devil."
"Aye. A very foolish young devil. For I paid a dear price for my
foolishness. I wasn't able to keep any food down for days."
Conor soon had Elizabeth and her ladies laughing with delight as he
relayed yet another tale from his misspent youth. And all the while, as
they hung on his words, he found himself glancing toward the upper
window of the palace, hoping for one more fleeting glance of a
certain sweet young colleen.
Chapter Eight
"How do you like the wine, my handsome rogue?" Elizabeth lifted
her goblet aloft, touching it to the one in Conor's hand.
They had gathered in the great hall before supper. The queen was
seated on a slightly raised platform, so that the others could see her.
Conor stood, one step below, while the rest of the guests mingled
around the room.
Fires blazed on the hearths at either end of the room, filling the air
with the cheery scent of woodsmoke. Servants moved among the
crowd, filling goblets with wine and ale.
"It is excellent, Majesty. Is it new?"
"Aye. Several barrels of wine were just unloaded from a boat sent by
the Archduke Charles. He hopes to win my interest and possibly court
me."
"And-'has he won your interest, Majesty?"
She merely smiled. It pleased her to toss out the names of men who
wished to pursue her, even though it was widely speculated that the
queen had no intention of sharing the throne with any man.
While she flirted with him, Conor tasted the wine again. After the
tension of the morning, he was feeling extremely mellow. All his
fears had been for naught. Instead of the ugly scene he'd envisioned,
he had been delighted to find a benevolent queen rewarding her
newest lady-in-waiting.
He glanced around. "The dining hall is more crowded than I've ever
seen before. Are you planning a special entertainment, madam?"
Her smile was smug. "Aye. A very special entertainment."
"What are you celebrating?"
"The arrival of the Earl of Blystone, for one. He is an old and dear
friend." She gave a negligent shrug of her shoulders. "But I need no
reason to celebrate. I merely crave excitement. Life here at court can
be rather dull. Don't you agree?"
"I'd hardly call mingling with titled nobles from every corner of
England dull, Majesty.",
"But that's only because you haven't grown up with them, Conor. I
find them to be rather vapid. And so I must devise ways to amuse
myself."
"I gather you have no intention of telling me what you're planning for
tonight's entertainment."
She sipped her wine. "Quite correct. Why should I tell you and spoil
"Why, indeed, Majesty." He sipped again, enjoying the wine and the
chorus of voices filling the great hall. Soon enough Elizabeth would
reveal her secret. Whatever it was, he had no doubt it would be a
pleasant diversion.
He found himself thinking about Emma. If she were to learn how he'd
fretted and worked himself into a frenzy of worry this morning on her
behalf, she would be amused. It was just as well, he thought, that she
would never know. At least he'd managed to avoid another storm of
Elizabeth's wrath.
"Where have you gone, my handsome rogue?" Elizabeth touched a
hand to Conor's sleeve before accepting another goblet of
wine."Forgive me, Majesty. My mind wandered."
"I should be insulted. I always thought men were incapable of thought
while in my sparkling presence."
"That's true." He gave her his most charming smile. "As you well
know, power and beauty are a potent combination in a woman."
It was the perfect remark, guaranteed to make Elizabeth smile. "If I
had to choose but one, Conor, it would be power. Even a commoner
can be beautiful. But few women in this world ever know true
power."
"Beautiful."
Amena and the others stood around as the servants finished dressing
Emma.
"I'll have to take your word for it, since you won't let me see myself in
the looking glass."
"You'll see soon enough." Amena waved away one of the servants
and picked up a comb, turning Emma's hair into a cascade of
burnished curls. "You missed all the excitement last night," she said
absently.
' 'What excitement?' Emma smoothed down the skirt of her gown and
cast a quick glance at the toes of her slippers.
"Conor O'Neil." Amena spoke his name on a sigh, and the other
women began to nod and giggle. "It seems the queen's sly rogue is
also an accomplished swordsman."
"Conor?" Emma's hands went still.
"Aye. When it looked as though Lord Dunstan would run through the
second scoundrel, Conor moved so quickly, we saw little more than
the flash of his blade."
Another lady-in-waiting interrupted with excitement. "It was the
most amazing display. One moment Conor's sword was sheathed.
The next, his blade was at Dunstan's heart, and he had ordered
Dunstan to yield."
Amena glanced toward the others. "I would never have believed it,
had I not seen it with my own eyes." She propelled Emma toward the
tall, oval looking glass. "There now. What do you think?"
Emma stared at her reflection without really seeing herself. In her
mind's eye she was seeing Conor, blade flashing, blue eyes
challenging. "I think," she muttered, "that we are in for all manner of
surprises this night."
Conor heard a growing murmur of voices throughout the hall, and
found himself wondering what caused it. Beside him the queen broke
into a wide smile.
The crowd see
med to press closer, watching the arrival of one who
was hidden from Conor's view. But from the murmurs, which seemed
to grow until they filled the room, he surmised that it must be
someone of great importance.
Curious, he continued to watch as the crowd began to part.
Striding toward the queen was no duke or count or bishop. No foreign
emissary. It was merely Emma. But this was an Emma such as Conor
could have never imagined. Her gown was a shimmering sparkle of
white satin, shot with gold and silver threads that caught and reflected
the light of hundreds of candles blazing in chandeliers overhead.
Unlike her borrowed gowns, this one fit her slender body perfectly,
emphasizing her tiny waist and hips. But it was the neckline that
caught his attention. A neckline so low, it revealed more of her high,
firm breasts than it covered. Because she owned no jewelry, she wore
a simple white ribbon tied at her throat. The pure simplicity of it only
added to her allure. Dainty kid slippers peeked out from the
lace-edged hem of her gown.
It was plain that great care had been taken with the lady's toilette. Her
hair had been pulled back into a mass of curls that spilled over one
breast.
She walked toward the queen with eyes downcast, which only added
to her appeal. Her cheeks bright pink, the only indication of her
discomfort at the pressure of so much scrutiny.
She stopped in front of the queen's chair and dropped an awkward
curtsy. "Majesty, forgive my late arrival. Your seamstresses only now
finished this, the first of the gowns you commissioned."
"You are forgiven, Emma Vaughn. I would say the gown was well
worth waiting for. What say you, Conor?"
Conor's hand closed on the stem of his goblet until, aware that it
might snap from the pressure, he forced his fingers to relax their grip.
He managed a smile, though his throat was as dry as dust. "Very nice
work, Majesty."
Emma refused to look at him. It was just as well. He was afraid to
meet her eyes. Afraid that all he was feeling this moment would be
revealed in a single look.
"Judging by the admiration on the faces of the men in the room, and
the jealousy on their ladies', I'd say this gown is a smashing success.
Come." Elizabeth rose and swept down the steps of the dais. "You
will sup at my table, Emma."
"As you wish, Majesty." Emma followed as the queen led the way
toward the dining hall.
When they reached the queen's table, Elizabeth said haughtily,
"Emma, you will sit beside me, and Conor will sit on my other side."
Again Emma evaded his glance. Conor stood until the two women
were seated, then took his place beside the queen.
Within moments Lord Dunstan approached. ' 'Majesty, I would he
honored to sit at table with you and this lovely creature."
"Of course you would, Dunstan." Elizabeth laughed. "As would
every man in this room. But since you have been so bold, I agree. You
shall join us, as will my friend James Blystone."
Flushed with pleasure, the two men took their places on either side of
Emma. Seeing the look on their faces, Conor gritted his teeth. "I had
thought you would invite Lord Humphrey to sit with you this night,
Majesty."
"Humphrey?" Elizabeth put a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles.
"A fresh young face like Emma's deserves handsome young men
beside her, not that old bag of bones."
But that was exactly what Conor wanted beside Emma. Someone old
and dull, with failing eyesight. Not a lecher like Dunstan. Nor a
wealthy widower like James Blystone.
He tried not to listen as Dunstan began talking about himself in an
attempt to smooth things over with Emma. But Conor couldn't help
himself. With every word out of Dunstan's mouth, his own anger
grew.
"Every year I give a sumptuous midsummer ball at my estate in
Surrey." Dunstan's tone was as haughty as the queen's. "Perhaps you
can attend this year."
"You'd love it, Emma." Elizabeth's eyes danced with pleasure. "It's a
costume ball. Oh, I do so love the masque. Last year Dunstan dressed
as Apollo and I was his Diana."
"And you were the loveliest lady at the ball, Majesty." Dunstan
sipped his ale, obviously pleased with himself. Everyone in the room
was watching the queen's table, and he did so love being the center of
attention.
"Last year we stayed over as I recall." Elizabeth signalled for Sterling
to give the command. At once the servants began circling the tables,
offering trays of succulent roasted pig, platters of doves and plates of
salmon.
"Perhaps Your Majesty will consider staying on for a fortnight or
more this year."
Elizabeth gave him a measured look. "Is this becauseyou find my
company so enchanting, Dunstan? Or could it be because of this
vision beside me?"
Dunstan merely smiled and chose his words carefully. "No beauty
compares with yours, my queen. But I must say the transformation in
our young Emma leaves me quite breathless."
Beside her, Conor muttered something under his breath.
Elizabeth turned. "What was that, Conor?"
"Nothing, Majesty."
"I thought I heard you say something about the fires of damnation."
"Nay, madam. I was merely commenting on fare that brings such
satisfaction.".
"Ah. I see." She patted his hand. "Do not fear, my handsome rogue.
You may be invited to Dunstan's ball as well. That is, if you continue
to please and amuse me."
"That gives me great comfort, Majesty." He spoke each word through
gritted teeth.
When Elizabeth turned her attention to Emma, Conor pushed aside
his plate. He had lost his appetite. Instead, he emptied his goblet and
held it up to a passing servant, who poured more wine from a flask.
Throughout the interminable meal, he was forced to watch in silence
while Dunstan and Blystone did their best to impress Emma. And
every other man in the hall craned his neck to study the stunning
creature.
When the meal finally drew to a close, Elizabeth led the way back to
the great hall. As soon as she arrived, musicians burst into song.
"Come, Conor. We must dance," she called gaily.
"Aye, Majesty." With a forced smile he led her to the floor and began
to move with her through the intricate steps of the dance.
He was still managing to smile when he glanced up and saw a line
form in front of Emma. Every gentleman, young and old, seemed
determined to snag the attention of the fascinating new lady.
"Look." Elizabeth was clearly enjoying herself. "Our Emma has just
been transformed into a swan. Isn't she delightful, Conor?"
"Aye, Majesty. Delightful." His smile faltered, and he had to struggle
to keep it in place.
Six dances later, when Elizabeth finally decided to take a seat and
watch from the sidelines, Emma was still dancing.
"I believe I'll have some ale."
At Elizabeth's words, Conor signalled for a servant. He offered a
goblet to the que
en, and snagged a second for himself, drinking it
down in several long swallows.
"Oh, look." Elizabeth pointed, and Conor turned in time to see
Dunstan pushing his way through the crowd of men toward Emma. "I
do believe Lord Dunstan is feeling a bit peevish at having been
ignored so long by our Emma."
Conor watched as Emma put her hand in Dunstan's and began to
dance. "Perhaps she is not amused by arrogance."
The queen gave Conor a sharp look. "If I didn't know better, I'd think
you were suffering the pangs of jealousy."
"Jealous? Of a twit like Dunstan?" He felt a swift, unreasonable rush
of an emotion that had to be anger. "What nonsense."
"You must admit they make a handsome couple." Elizabeth sipped
her ale while Conor drained his goblet a second time. The queen put a
hand on his arm. "Almost as handsome as you and I, my charmer."
"Aye." He kept his smile on his lips while he signalled for a serving
wench and helped himself to another goblet of ale.
"Though I must admit," Elizabeth added dryly, "Dunstan does have a
look of hunger in his eyes."
Her remark only added to Conor's misery.
As soon as the dance ended, the Earl of Blystone, tall, aristocratic,
bowed before Emma and took her hand in his.
"Now, this is even better. We'll pit Dunstan and Blystone against one
another as they vie for the lady's affection." Elizabeth nodded and
motioned to several ladies-in- waiting who hovered nearby. "Ten
gold sovereigns that Dunstan will come out the winner."
There was a flurry of wagering as the others cast their votes.
"The earl has been a widower now for over a year, Majesty." Amena
put a hand to her mouth and whispered, "He will not waste any time if
the lady appeals to him. I'll put my money on him."
"Aye," said another lady-in-waiting, "but Lord Dunstan has a
reputation for moving quickly, once a female catches his eye. I cast
my gold, with the queen, on Dunstan."
Elizabeth turned to Conor, who had remained ominously silent.
"What say you? Who will win the right to see the lady to her room