“But Robbie, I don’t love Lord Southwood.”
“Lord, lass, I should hope not. He’s married.”
“But I still want him to make love to me.”
He began to laugh. “What you feel for the Earl is desire, lust, passion. Sometimes those feelings go along with love, but more often not. The churches would like us to feel guilty about such emotions, but don’t you do it! Those feelings are human nature. You won’t have them with every man you meet, so don’t fret.” He put a friendly arm about her. “Skye, lass. I know I’m many years older, but if having the protection of marriage and my name would make you feel safe, I’d gladly marry you. I’d ask nothing of you. It would be in name only.”
She was stunned. “Why, Robbie, how kind you are. You always have been, since our first meeting. What a good man you are! Thank you, but I must stand on my own two feet. I somehow feel that Khalid would want me to be strong and independent.”
“Aye, lass. I think he would, but should you ever change your mind, the offer stands open. Remember that.”
She bent and kissed his cheek. “I do love you, Robbie, but not the way a woman loves a man. I could not marry you, even for safety’s sake, but never stop being my friend.”
“I won’t, lass. I won’t,” he said quietly, thinking, I owe Khalid more than I can ever repay, and watching over you is such a small thing. Lord God, let her find happiness, the fierce man prayed.
CHAPTER 15
EVER SINCEELIZABETHTUDOR HAD ASCENDED THE THRONEof England, the Earl of Lynmouth had held a masqued ball on Twelfth Night. Not the first year, however, for Queen Mary had died on the morning of November 17, 1558, and Twelfth Night had been only seven weeks later. The Court was still in mourning for her.
This year would be the third time the Earl’s fête would be held, and invitations were eagerly sought. Skye received her invitation on the morning of New Year’s Day. Geoffrey Southwood came calling and planned to deliver it himself. She had not seen him since that mid-November night, but she had dreamed of his kisses ever since. She hurried from her own apartments, where she had dressed, to the second-floor receiving room. Her burgundy velvet gown was offset by exquisite, delicate ecru lace along the sleeves. The square neckline was low, and bordered by the same lace. A little above it dangled a necklace of small rubies and pearls. Her midnight hair was parted in the center and fell in soft curls, Italian fashion, about her shoulders. It gave her a charmingly youthful appearance.
“My lord Earl! A happy New Year to you,” she cried gaily, sweeping into the richly furnished receiving room. Dear Heaven, he was so incredibly handsome, dressed all in black velvet trimmed with sable, wearing a great heavy gold pendant about his neck.
“Mistress Goya del Fuentes, a happy year to you also.” His gleaming green eyes swept over her. Christ’s bones, she was beautiful! “I have brought you a small gift,” he said.
She colored becomingly. “My lord, it is not necessary, and I have nothing for you.”
“I will take a kiss, sweetheart, for one of your kisses is worth more than anything else.”
“Oh!” Before she could protest he swept her masterfully into his arms, and took possession of her lips. The blood sang, roared, and pounded in her ears and she matched him kiss for kiss until they were both breathless. Her breasts began to swell with longing, the nipples chafing against her silk chemise. His mouth scorched down the side of her neck to her shoulder, then across the tops of her breasts, which threatened to burst the confines of the burgundy gown.
“I want to make love to you,” he said softly.
“I know,” she answered breathlessly, “but I need more time. I have known no man but my late husband, and I am confused. And afraid.”
“I won’t force you, sweetheart. Rape holds no charm for me.” He led her to the brocade settle and they sat together. He drew a small jeweler’s box from his left pocket. “I have been on constant call to Her Majesty,” he explained. “We kept Christmas at Hampton Court, but the Queen is now at Whitehall, and I was able to get away for a while. I have bought these because I thought they matched your eyes.”
Skye took the proffered box. She opened it without taking her eyes from him. Inside the box were a pair of round sapphire earrings that dangled from two tiny gold beads. She lifted one up to the bright morning sunlight and, like a prism, it caught the light and twinkled a rainbow back at her. The sapphires were among the finest she’d ever seen, and certainly Indian.
“My lord, I cannot. They are far too valuable,” she sighed regretfully.
“Geoffrey, sweetheart, and I beg you not to be silly. What harm is there in two friends exchanging gifts on New Year’s Day?”
“But I have nothing for you,” she protested again.
“Nothing? Have you not given me the hope that someday we might share love between us? And your sweet kisses are far more precious to me than jewels. Come, love, let me fasten the sapphires into your little ears.” His hands brushed her curls back, making her shiver, and he carefully set the earrings in their places. “Perfection,” he said.
Skye faced the pier glass, turning this way and that to admire the sparkling, richly blue stones. “Damn you,” she said softly, “they’re beautiful—and I love them!”
He chuckled. “I’m happy to see you exhibit even the tiniest bit of greed, sweet Skye. Now, love, I’ve something else for you before I go. An invitation to my Twelfth Night masque. Will you come? Perhaps Captain Small will escort you? The Queen will be there. I have not yet broached the subject of a royal charter for your trading company, but I shall do so before the ball, and I will endeavor to present you to Her Majesty that evening.”
“Oh, Geoffrey, how lovely! Of course I shall come, and Robbie shall be my escort, though I doubt I can get him into anything overly elegant. Robbie takes no pleasure in lavish dressing.”
He nodded, satisfied. “I must get back to Whitehall now, sweetheart.”He rose and she moved toward him. He towered over her, making Skye feel very small as she gazed up at him. His long fingers trailed smoothly over her upturned face. “I’m a patient man as long as the prize is worth the wait, my pet.”
“I could disappoint you, Geoffrey,” she frowned up at him, her face intent.
“I think not, Skye. I think not.” He brushed her lips lightly with his. “What would you like for Twelfth Night?”
