glimmer of hope. She would trust him to set his plans into motion in
time.
When the queen pushed from the table and prepared to take her leave,
Emma felt a wave of relief. She needed only a moment or two of
Conor's time.
Instead, her plans were thwarted when the queen commanded sternly,
"Come, my ladies. Our work with the seamstresses has just begun."
Emma trailed the other women, her hopes plummeting. There were
only days left before their departure. The safety, the very lives of her
father and sister depended on her. And she was being forced to waste
her time on such frivolous things as ball gowns and riding cloaks.
Emma sat beside the Earl of Blystone, watching and listening in
silence while Conor told an amusing story. All night he had charmed
the crowd with his wit and humor. Throughout the endless dinner,
and afterward, during the interminable dancing, he had been the life
of the party.
Now he sipped his ale and leaned back while the queen added her
own bit of narrative to the tale.
All around her, while the titled guests nodded and laughed, Emma felt
her composure beginning to slip. In three days Conor hadn't found
even a moment to speak with her in private. Three long days. She was
beginning to think he'd been avoiding her. What other explanation
could there be? Perhaps he had lost his taste for adventure. Perhaps
the queen had cautioned him about spending too much time away
from her. Whatever the reason, Emma was beginning to lose faith.
Just watching him, listening to that smooth voice always saying just
the right thing, made her question the wisdom of placing so much
trust in the man. Hadn't he admitted to being a spy? Wasn't he a man
who seemed to consider nothing sacred? Why should he take on her
problems, when they could only lead to trouble?
"...my lady?"
She stared at the outstretched hand for a full minute before
comprehension dawned. The earl had just asked her to dance.
"Of course." She accepted his hand and moved into his arms. And all
the while, she watched as Conor led the queen through the same
dance steps across the room.
Blystone leaned close to whisper, "Are you as excited as I at the
prospect of the progress, my lady?"
She struggled to put some gaiety into her tone. "Aye. It should prove
to be quite an adventure."
He sighed. "I do so look forward to showing you my home at
Warwick."
Emma forced a smile. "I've heard that it's a lovely place."
"It was. And it could become lovely and gay again. It saddens me to
see how somber and empty it has become since my wife's death. I
have much preferred the liveliness of court."
"Then I'm glad that the queen will now bring laughter and life back to
your home."
He tipped up her chin. "It is not only the queen's visit that gladdens
my heart, my lady. Part of my excitement is due to you."
"My lord..." Emma found herself speechless.
"My given name is James. Though Elizabeth has always called me
Blystone, my friends call me Jamie." His voice lowered. "I hope you
will do the same."
She was grateful for the interruption when the queen and Conor
paused beside them.
Elizabeth gave Blystone a bright smile. "Dance with me, my friend,
and we will talk about the plans you have made."
"Aye, Majesty. With pleasure." Blystone released his hold on Emma
and began circling the floor with the queen.
"My lady." Conor held out his hand, and Emma moved into his arms.
"You have been extremely busy, I see." Emma hated the petulant tone
of her voice, but there was no stopping it. She couldn't hide her
displeasure.
"Aye, my lady." Conor watched until Dunstan and his partner,
Amena, moved beyond hearing. Then he bent low and whispered,
"Be ready tonight. When the others have retired."
Emma's head came up sharply. Her mouth opened, but no words
came out. Finally she managed to blurt, "How could you calmly sit
there...?"
He gave her his most charming smile. "I believe that is another new
She swallowed. Blinked furiously to keep tears from brimming.
"Aye, my lord."
"It is most becoming." He turned her in an elaborate circle, and she
felt her head spin.
None of this seemed real. Tonight, while the others slept, she and
Conor would ride to the rescue of her father and sister. They would be
free of Celestine. All of them. Free.
Including herself. She would no longer have Celestine's threats
forcing her to do things she despised. She shook her head to clear it.
"All through the evening, I have been entertaining doubts about you,
Conor. Allowing myself to think the worst. And all along, you've had
your plans in place."
"Forgive me, Emma. There was no way to prepare you. This was why
I haven't come near you. I knew it best that we were not seen together
for a while."
He had filled his days and nights with dangerous schemes. And she
had foolishly resented him.
"My lady, I will bid you goodnight now." As the music ended, he
handed her over to the Earl of Blystone and walked away beside the
queen.
Minutes later Conor and Elizabeth took their leave, while the others
bowed and curtsied.
Emma struggled to join in the laughter and gaiety of the other
ladies-in-waiting and the gentlemen, as they sipped their ale and
repeated the latest gossip. But her mind was already, on the danger
that lay before her this night.
She glanced around at the others and realized that not one of them had
an inkling that this was a momentous occasion. If all went well, she
and her family would be free of Celestine's tyranny forever. And she
would be free of this deceit that had her lying to the man she loved.
The man she loved.
The thought was so stunning, she could do nothing more than stare
into the flames of the fire, while a dreamy smile played on her lips.
"Perhaps you will join me in a game of chess, my lady?"
She looked up in surprise. How long had the earl been staring at her?
She pressed a hand to her mouth, pretending to stifle a yawn.
"Forgive me, my lord. I must go to my bed."
"Then I will accompany you to your room." He offered his arm and
she accepted.
At the door of her chambers she turned and offered her hand.
He closed it between both of his and brought it to his lips. "Perhaps,
my dear Emma, you would permit me a brief visit in your chambers?"
,
"Another time, my...Jamie. For tonight, I find myself far too weary to
entertain a guest." To soften the blow she added, "Even one as
charming as you."
She was relieved when he didn't press the issue. Instead, he smiled,
bowed grandly and turned away.
Once inside, Emma allowed her servant to help her out of her clothes
and into her nightshift.
As she sank down on the edge of the bed she feigned another yawn.
"Good night, Nola. I will need no further
assistance this night. If you
don't mind, I do not wish to be disturbed until morning."
"Aye, my lady."
Emma waited until the servant was gone. Then she bounded to her
feet and stripped off her nightclothes, replacing them with the
breeches and tunic belonging to the stable lad.That done, she paced
her room, pausing occasionally at the balcony to peer into the
darkness. And wondering how her nerves would be able to withstand
whatever was to come this night.
As soon as Elizabeth entered her chambers, she called to a servant,
"Bring us some wine." Then she motioned to a chaise drawn up
before the fire. "Sit with me awhile, my handsome rogue."
Conor was puzzled. This was the first time that he could recall the
queen veering from her course. Why now, on this most important
night of all, had she decided to change the rules of the game?
The servant entered and offered the queen a goblet of ale, then bowed
in front of Conor. He accepted the drink, and the servant walked
silently away.
Elizabeth turned to him, and lifted her goblet in a salute. "I thought
you might care to work a little more of your potent charm before we
bid good-night."
"My charm, Majesty?"
"Your wit, your patience, are most persuasive, my rogue."
"Majesty?" His heart lurched. Was she hinting that she wanted him in
her bed? There had been a time when he had thought himself capable
of any sacrifice for the sake of his countrymen. Even this. But that
had been before Emma? Now the thought was so repugnant to him, he
found himself cringing. How strange life was. There were dozens,
nay hundreds, of men who would give anything for this opportunity.
And all he could think about was a sweet Dublin lass-who had stolen
his heart.
He forced his attention back to the woman beside him.
"Lord Dunstan has given me a very persuasive argument for engaging
the Ulster leaders in war." She smiled up into Conor's eyes. "Is there
anything you would like to add before I make my decision?"
He almost sighed with relief. It wasn't affairs of the heart that held her
interest this night, it was affairs of state.
"Have you made up your mind, Majesty?"
"I believe so. But I will wait to make my decision known to my
advisors. As Dunstan has reminded me, it is a chance to send a
message to Philip of Spain. He fears I have bided my time long
enough."
"If you agree with Dunstan, I will be greatly sorrowed at your news,
Majesty, though I know you will not do this thing merely to harm my
poor countrymen. Nor to cause pain to me. But such a decision will
do both."
She lay her palm against his cheek. "That is the difference between
you and Dunstan. You are too clever to be fooled into thinking that
such matters can be undertaken lightly, or for purely personal
reasons. Still, Dunstan does have great charm. And there is our
long-standing friendship. But when it comes to England, I must think
only of my people, and what is best for them."
"I will continue to press for a peaceful solution, Majesty. I fear that if
you choose war, you will live to regret your decision."
"We shall see, Conor O'Neil. We will drink, for now, to old friends
and new. And may the most persuasive charmer win my heart." She
lifted her goblet and drained it, and Conor did the same.
She stood and he followed suit. "Now I must bid you good-night. I
need my rest, to prepare for the coming progress."
"Aye, Majesty." He kissed the hand she offered. "May your sleep be
peaceful and dreamless."
And his, he realized as he hurried along the hall to his own chambers,
would be brief, if at all this night.
Chapter Fifteen
1 see you're ready."
"Oh." At the sound of the deep voice Emma stopped her frantic
pacing to turn toward the balcony. "Conor. At last. I thought you were
never going to come."
"Forgive me, my lady." He pulled himself over the railing. Up close
he could see the worry etched on her brow. He touched a hand to her
shoulder. "Did you begin to lose faith in me again, Emma?"
She shrugged in embarrassment. "I tried not to. But I must admit that
my thoughts have been in turmoil these past hours. How do we know
that Celestine won't return and catch us? And what of my father and
sister? I know we can carry Sarah from her bed. But whatever will we
do with my father? Conor, he's too heavy to carry from the
upper-window. And we dare not use the stairs, or the servants will
see..."
"Come, Emma. I'll try to put all your fears at rest while we ride. But
we must hasten. Already, the nighttime hours are slipping away."
Without another word Conor descended the rope, and Emma
followed, dropping lightly into his arms in the darkened courtyard.
She shivered as his arms came around her. There was such strength in
them. Such strength of will in this man. And yet she constantly
doubted him. Still, the mere touch of him seemed to bring a sense of
calm to her troubled heart.
For a moment he crushed her against him, pressing his lips to her
temple. "Trust me, Emma. I'll see your father and sister safely free of
their prison this night. Or die trying. Now come, lass. We've no time
to waste."
They raced toward waiting horses and sped off across the meadows.
Conor's voice beside her was unexpectedly calm. "Edward assures
me that Celestine will be gone for the night."
"How can he be certain?"
"He has been a servant in your father's home a long time, has he not?"
She nodded as she guided her horse up a gentle slope.
"Then trust that he knows far more about Celestine's business than
you or I."
"But what would take her from her warm bed at this late hour?"
His voice was warm with unspoken laughter. "Perhaps your
stepmother has a lover."
He heard her little gasp of surprise and his smile grew. This sweet
creature hadn't even begun to fathom the depth of her stepmother's
deceit. "That would account for her nights spent far from her own
bed."
Though the words stung, Emma had to admit that they made sense.
"I've always known that Celestine never loved my father. She merely
used him to secure his wealth and title." She paused, considered.
"What about Edward? Can you trust him to keep his silence?"
' 'Though the butler values his position too much to incur your
stepmother's wrath, I sense that his loyalty lies with your father. The
offer of a few gold coins is little enough to assure that loyalty. And
I've promised him more before I leave."
"And there is my next question. Conor, how will we manage to leave
with such a heavy burden? There is the matter of the guard posted at
the foot of the stairs. How will we ever manage to slip my father and
sister past him? And even if we get them out of the house, how do we
manage to spirit them away to safety?"
"Have no fear, Emma. Can you trust me a little longer?"
She turned to study his profile in the darkness. How
strong he
seemed. How determined. Now that he was here beside her, she had
no doubt that he would do what he promised.
"Aye, Conor. I do trust you. And whatever you ask of me, I'll do it
without question."
Her words warmed his heart as nothing else could have.
At the top of the meadow he reined in his mount and pointed. Up
ahead was the darkened outline of Clermont House. Except for an
occasional flicker of candlelight, the house and all in it seemed at rest.
Emma shivered as they pulled into a stand of trees and dismounted.
The whinny of a nearby horse startled her. She turned. And found
herself staring at a wagon. Standing beside it were two giants.
"You got my message." Conor embraced first one giant, then the
other.
"Aye.-With little enough time to get here." The voice was thick with
brogue. "Couldn't you have given us a bit more notice? It isn't the
same as going to market."
"I figured as much. But I live to make your lives miserable."
The three chuckled softly and clapped each other on the back. Then
Conor turned to Emma. "This is my father, Gavin O'Neil. And my
brother Rory."
The two men inclined their heads slightly as Conor added, "And this
is Emma Vaughn."
"A woman, you say?" In the darkness the two studied the shadowy
figure in breeches and tunic.
"Aye. Her father is Daniel Vaughn."
"Daniel Vaughn from Dublin?"
"Aye. He and his young daughter, Sarah, have been drugged by
Emma's stepmother, Celestine."
"An English woman, no doubt." This from Gavin.
"True enough. She is cousin to the queen."
"Then I'm not surprised at her treatment of a man from Dublin."
Conor ignored his father's remark and added, "They are being held
prisoner in that house. We're going to free them."
"And why would we do that?"
"Because he is a countryman. Because it will vex his new wife, who
is cousin to the queen you love to hate. And because I ask it."
Rory gave a throaty laugh. "Fine reasons all. Come on then. Let's get
to it."