“Good-bye, my lord Earl,” she replied, and then hurried from the room before the children saw her own tears.
Niall was waiting for her in their private family hall. Seeing the look on her face, he quickly caught her to him and kissed the hot tears that slid down her cheeks. “It’s my condition,” she muttered.
“I know,” he soothed, “it must be, for you’d never give the Queen a victory over you. I know that.”
“No,” she sniffed, fumbling for her handkerchief. “I certainly wouldn’t!”
He laughed. “That’s my girl!”
She wiped her eyes. “I must not keep Dickon waiting.” She stuffed the handkerchief away in an inner pocket of her cloak.
“You’re the most incredibly brave woman I know, Skye. Don’t fear, my love. I’ll let nothing happen to you. I have friends, and so do you. If the Queen thinks to harm you, she’ll not succeed. The secret of your arrest will not remain a secret long.”
“I’m not afraid, Niall,” she replied. Her eyes were clear now and she was calm. He felt a surge of pride sweep over him.God help Elizabeth Tudor, thought Niall, forshe’s never tangled with a wildcat like my Skye.
In the courtyard the horses stamped in the crisp air, their hot breath visible. Daisy, who had insisted on going into captivity with her mistress, was already seated in the coach. Carefully Niall helped his wife into the vehicle. Clambering up after her, he tucked a fur robe about her legs. Her blue eyes regarded him calmly and she said softly, “Perhaps you’d have done better to marry a meek miss than a wild widow.”
He chuckled, answering just as softly. “I had me two meek misses, madam. I far prefer the widow. I always did.” Then he kissed her, a sweetly gentle kiss that set her heart fluttering wildly.
“Oh God, I shall miss you, Niall Burke!”
“There’s time to flee, my love. You’ve but to claim you’re in early labor, and then it’s off to Lundy through the cave with that English buffoon, de Grenville, none the wiser.”
“No!” she said sharply. “I mean to beat Bess Tudor, and keep it all!”
“You’re a stubborn woman, Skye O’Malley, but I believe you’ll win.”
“Oh, I will, Niall! I will!”
He took her small hand in his, and kissed it slowly, first the back, and then the palm. “Farewell, madam, I’ll look after all here.”
She felt a catch in her throat as he stepped out of the coach and shut the door firmly behind him. She watched him stride over to Dickon and speak with him, his face grim.
“I want you to travel carefully, de Grenville. I am holding you personally responsible for the safety of my wife and unborn child. Do you understand that? If anything happens to either of them I will personally slay your wife and family and burn your bloody house.”
“I’ll be careful, my lord,” said de Grenville. “I’d not take Skye at all in her current condition were I not under direct orders from the Queen.”
“I understand,” said Niall quietly. “Will you keep me informed of any news? And if she may have visitors, go to see her so she won’t be lonely.”
De Grenville nodded. Mounting his horse, he led the procession of soldiers, coach, and baggage wagon from the courtyard of Lynmouth Castle across the drawbridge and out onto the road. To his vast surprise, the road was crowded with people for over two miles. Tenant farmers, villagers, merchants and fishermen, gamekeepers and castle servants, young and old stood cheek by jowl lining both sides of the road, all quietly supporting their mistress. Here and there, de Grenville heard a voice call out: “God keep your ladyship, and bring you safely home to us!”
What the hell is Bess Tudor about?de Grenville wondered.What has Skye done that no one knows about, yet has offended the Queen so terribly?
The trip, which should have taken but a few days, took well over a week. The coach moved at a sedate pace, stopping frequently so the lovely Countess might stretch her legs or refresh herself. They started late in the day and stopped early. When de Grenville suggested they might move a little faster, Skye took to her bed, thus delaying them an additional day. Thereafter, de Grenville gritted his teeth and kept his peace.
When they finally arrived in London, de Grenville transferred Skye to a closed water barge so her coach with the Lynmouth arms emblazoned on the doors would not be recognized. The coach and its servants were returned immediately to Devon.
Parted from the familiarity of her coach and servants, Skye felt some of her courage ebb away, though from the serene look on her face no one would have known it. She had learned long ago that to show fear only encouraged one’s enemies. Carefully de Grenville handed her and Daisy down into the waiting barge, then joined them.
“I always wanted to take you out on the river in my barge,” he said in a lighthearted attempt at conversation.
“I am sure, Dickon,” she answered, “that cruising on your barge would be far preferable than the cruise I am about to take on this one.”
“Skye, damme, what is going on between you and the Queen?!”
“I really have no idea at all, Dickon,” she replied sweetly, and turned her face away from him to gaze out on the river.
He sighed deeply, but made no further attempt.
