In the gray-white light of the January dawn she awoke to find that he had thrust gently into her. The hardness within her seemed natural and good. “I do love you,” she said quietly, and slowly he began the primitive rhythm that would culminate in searing passion for them both. She moved with him, savoring the sweetness of him, and suddenly she knew that all the barriers had crumbled away. She loved this tender and arrogant lord who sought to possess her so completely. She loved him. He would never know, of course, for men never did, that though she loved him there would always be a secret part of her that belonged to her alone. But she loved him, of that she was sure.
Their rhythm quickened and then the blazing white light ofthe dawn blended with the pulsing golden light in her mind as he brought her twice to perfect fulfillment. She cried his name and felt his strong arms about her, heard his voice soothing her, his lips kissing away the salty tears she hadn’t even been aware of shedding.
“You are mine, and I am yours,” she said finally, easily.
“Aye, sweetheart,” he answered. “We belong together, and we will be together. In the spring I shall beg leave from the Queen and take you down into Devon to my home.”
“But your wife—”
“Mary and her daughters do not live at Lynmouth,” he said. “It is you who shall be its mistress.”
That afternoon they left their secret sanctuary at the Ducks and Drake and rode back to London. The day was cold and windy and overcast, and threatened snow again, but they were happy.
“I want you to move into my house,” he said as they rode. “The apartment next to mine is for the Countess of Lynmouth, and we will redo it for you.”
“I don’t know, Geoffrey. I have my own home, and I plan to bring my daughter up from Devon soon. I haven’t seen her in several months. She should be in her own house, not in yours.”
“Then keep Greenwood, darling, but let me redo those rooms for you. You can travel easily between the two houses using the underground passage beneath the garden. You can be with your little girl during the day, and with me in the evenings.”
“Very well, Geoffrey, as long as I may keep my own home. But until the rooms are redone I will remain at Greenwood. Will you dine with me this evening?”
“I will, sweetheart, but first I must return to Court and pay my respects to Her Majesty.”
Soon they turned their horses into Greenwood’s driveway.
“Welcome home, ma’am,” called the gatekeeper.
Skye threw him a smile and waved. Approaching the house, Skye was pleased to see a groom hurry from her stables. As they reined in their horses the Earl dismounted and lifted her down from her horse. His arms remained wrapped around her and, flushing prettily, she looked up at him.
“Do you love me, Skye?” he demanded softly.
“I love you, Geoffrey,” she answered, her bright blue eyes never wavering from his.
“And will you be my lady fair, sweetheart?”
“Yes! Oh, yes!”
He bent and kissed her lingeringly, lovingly. “I’ll send wordwhen I can come this evening,” he said. Mounting his stallion again, he cantered off down the drive.
She entered the house dreamily.
“So you’re back, and looking as dewy-eyed as any foolish maid.”
“Good day to you, Robbie.” She smiled sweetly at him. “Come have a glass of wine with me.”
“Wine, is it?” he grumbled, following her upstairs to the little salon.
“Yes, wine! Wine to celebrate the fact that I’m in love! Oh, Robbie, I’m in love again! I never thought I would be able to love after I lost Khalid, but I love Geoffrey!”
Lord have mercy, thought the sea captain as Skye, humming a tuneless ditty, poured out generous portions of ruby-red wine for the two of them. Robbie sat slumped in a chair, his gaze on the floor.How can I tell her what de Grenville told me while in his cups last night?he thought.How can I tell her that Southwood seeks to make her his mistress in order to satisfy a bet? Now the bastard’s gone and captured her heart. Damn! I’d rather be in the middle of a South Atlantic hurricane!He raised his eyes slowly.
She raised her goblet high. “To my Lord Southwood! Long life!” she toasted.
Robbie raised his goblet lifelessly. “Aye,” he answered tonelessly.Christ! She’s so happy! I haven’t seen her happy since Khalid died. Ah, hell! It’s too late for me to save her from him. Let her find out on her own. Let her be happy for now. He gulped down his wine and sat back against the velvet cushions.
“I’ve news too,” he said. “We’re to see the Queen and Cecil the day after Candlemas. We’d best have that first voyage mapped out by then.”
She was suddenly all business. “Have you decided where? And what?”
