“You are more dangerous than St.Denis, I think,” she said.
His dark eyes flashed a moment, then he said, “I think that you praise me too highly, madame.”
“Nay, Villiers, I think you are greatly underestimated, but they will learn it in time,” Skye told him quietly with a small smile. What a charming rogue he was, she thought, and very ambitious, but there was no harm in ambition. She had had it herself in her youth, when life was so wonderfully intense, andshe could scarcely wait for one day to end so another could begin.
She wore black for her audience with the king. She was, after all, in mourning for her beloved Adam. Her dark hair with its two silver side wings was affixed in its familiar chignon. “Give me a bit of color for my cheeks,” she asked Nora, the maidservant who had traveled with her.
“Let me do it,” Nora said. “You have beautiful skin for any woman, let alone an old woman, my lady. We want the merest touch of color. Too much, and you lose the proper effect.” She dabbed the color on ever so slightly, smoothing it until Skye’s cheeks showed just the faintest touch of rose. “Perfect,” she announced, and held up the small traveling glass for her mistress to see.
Skye looked into the mirror. She was astounded. She did look frail. An elegant, fragile old woman stared back at herWho is she?Skye wondered.I don’t feel old in my head. Just my joints. No wonder Bess never allowed mirrors about her in her later years. Still, she had lived longer than Elizabeth Tudor, and dammit, she did look better!
The king stared at the woman before him. She was garbed in the height of fashion, and her jewelry was incredible to behold, especially the diamonds and pearls she wore. Blue eyes met his for just a fraction of a second before she curtsied, back straight as a poker, head lowered just the proper amount. Then she rose and awaited permission to speak.
“Steenie tells me ye treated him verra well, madame,” the king began. “He hae pleaded wi me to listen to ye, and so I will. What excuse can the Leslies of Glenkirk possibly hae for disobeying me, madame?” The king glared at the elegant old woman before him. Despite her age, she was still a great beauty, and he somehow thought it indecent that she should be. “Well, madame?” he barked.
“Viscount Villiers tells me that Your Majesty sent a message to my granddaughter and her husband at Queen’s Malvern, but no messenger at all arrived at my home during the summer. They departed for Glenkirk as they had planned in late August. Your Majesty knows that if James Leslie had received your instructions, I should not be here today to speak for him, or for my granddaugher,” Skye said firmly.
“Dinna receive my message? Are ye saying, madame, that no royal messenger arrived? Am I to understand that is the reason for this disobedience?” The king looked confused.
“No messenger arrived,”Skye repeated.
“This is verra strange,” the king puzzled.
“Perhaps Lady de Marisco was not aware of a messenger’s arrival,” Piers St.Denis said, confusing the king further.
Skye’s head swiveled just slightly, and she pierced the marquis of Hartsfield with a strong look. “I do not know you, sir,” she said icily, “but rest assured thatnothing happenswith regard to my household of which I am not fully aware. If I say no royal messenger arrived at Queen’s Malvern, then no royal messenger arrived. To question me further on the matter would be to imply that I am lying. Is that what you are implying, sir?” Her beautiful face was stony.
“Madame, at your age,” he began, only to be cut off.
“My age?Sir, you do indeed presume!” Skye told him. “My age has nothing to do with the matter at hand.Who are you?”
“I am the marquis of Hartsfield,” he told her, but she had already known it.
“And I, my lord, am the dowager countess of Lynmouth and Lundy,andthe dowager duchess of Beaumont de Jaspre. How dare you impugn my honor! Were we not in the royal presence, I should call you out myself. I am quite an excellent swordswoman, and I do believe it would give me great pleasure to slit your gullet, you arrogant puppy! I am not surprisedmy granddaughter chose Glenkirk over you. It is the difference between water and rich wine.” She turned to the king. “My lord, you know that I have the utmost respect for Your Majesty, but must I remain here to be insulted by thisperson?”
It was a magnificent performance. The queen caught Viscount Villier’s eye and saw that he was close to losing his vaunted composure. The marquis of Hartsfield looked stunned by the attack he had just encountered at the skilled hands of Skye O’Malley de Marisco. The king, mindful of Lady de Marisco’s age, was distressed that she should feel under attack in his presence, and when she swayed just slightly before him, or at least he thought she did, he cried out, “A chair for Madame Skye!” using the appellation he had heard her family use for her. A footman ran forward with a small chair, which he slipped behind her.
Skye sank with apparent gratitude into the seat. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she murmured weakly, her hand upon her chest.
“Wine!” shouted the king, and it was brought.
She sipped slowly, smiling weakly at the monarch, and nodding her thanks.
“My dear Madame Skye,” the king began, “I dinna want ye to feel that yer family is threatened, for it is nae so. If ye tell me that my messenger dinna arrive, then I accept yer guid word, for in all that I hae heard about ye, I hae nae heard it said that ye were a liar. Indeed, ‘tis said about ye that if gie yer word, it is yer bond.”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” Skye said quietly. This was too damned easy. Bess Tudor would have never been gulled so easily, she thought, and yet James Stuart was a sweet man. Seated, she was better able to study Piers St.Denis. He was slowly recovering from the drubbing she had just given him, and even now she could see him considering his next move. “IfYour Majesty wishes, I will send to Glenkirk, and the Leslies will return; but Your Majesty should know that my granddaughter is with child. James Leslie will at last have an heir again afterallthese years.”There!That would prevent St.Denis from demanding their return. The king was softhearted, and would not endanger the Leslie infant.
“Nah! Nah!” James Stuart said, even as she had silently predicted. “We canna allow any harm to come to Jemmie’s bairn, madame. I accept yer word in the matter, and it is now closed.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Skye said sweetly, pleased to see that the marquis of Hartsfield had been neatly checked. She arose from her seat, handing her goblet to a page, curtsying once again to the king. “Your Majesty will excuse me, I hope. I have traveled far and am quite tired. I must start back in the morning.”
“Aye, Madame Skye, ye hae our permission to retire. Go wi our blessing, and when ye write to yer granddaughter, tell her we are verra pleased to learn of her coming bairn. Steenie! Escort the lady!”
Viscount Villiers stepped forward and offered his arm to Skye. Accepting it, she moved with stately grace across the room to the door. There, however, the marquis of Hartsfield stood blocking their way. He glared at Skye, openly angry, and she laughed.
“You have not the skill to play my game, my lord,” she told him mockingly. “I learned from Bess Tudor herself.”
“She is dead now,” he said menacingly.
