“Ye feel about London as I do, eh, younger brother?” Alex said.
“If you mean by that that I prefer my lands, then you’re right,” came Padraic’s quick reply.
“Then come visit us in Scotland next summer,” said Alex. “We’ve good hunting and fishing.”
“I’ll do that!” agreed Padraic. “And perhaps I’ll even be the first of our family to see my new nephew—or niece, whichever the case may be.”
“I am not with child yet!” snapped Velvet.
“Being home will remedy that, madame,” said Alex maddeningly.
“My lords and ladies,” came the stentorian voice of the queen’s majordomo, “ ’Tis midnight. The feasting is over, and the penitential season is upon us. Her Gracious Majesty commands that you all join her in the chapel to receive ashes.”
With an almost audible sigh the court trooped forth from the queen’s ballroom. The tables lay almost empty and wasted behind them; the musicians had already departed. The solemnity of Lent had fallen about them like some dark cloak, and they were suddenly anxious to be home.
The church service was mercifully brief, and the children of Skye O’Malley quickly found themselves descending the river stairs to the wharf where their barges were lined up and waiting. Velvet had insisted that Padraic stay with them, and Murrough, too, this last night before he sailed. There was more than enough room for them all in the BrocCairn barge, and as the tide was now with them the boat quickly moved upriver to the Strand. The Lynmouth and BrocCairn vessels raced to see which would get home first. They were fairly matched, for while Velvet and Alex carried her two brothers, Robin and Angel had Willow and James as passengers. Both boats finished in a dead heat, which was a disappointment to the bargemen, those on the winning vessel having been promised a purse. The two earls, however, in a burst of generosity, awarded their men their prizes despite the tie. Then calling good night to each other as they passed up their adjoining gardens the Southwood and Gordon parties entered their respective homes.
Murrough’s rooms awaited him, and an apartment was quickly prepared for Lord Burke who, kissing his sister good night, whispered, “Don’t fret, littlest one, nothing will happen to Alex I promise. Besides, de Boult is not said to be any sort of a swordsman.”
Velvet made a little moue with her mouth. “The whole thing is foolishness, and that dreadful jade will brag for weeks afterwards about having caused a duel. Thank God we shall not be here to listen to her.”
Murrough hid a smile. Velvet became more like their mother every day. “Shall I bid you farewell now, Velvet?” he asked. “Or will you arise from your snug bed in the morning to see me off?”
“What time will you go?” She looked dubious.
“I must leave Greenwood by half after seven at the latest. The tide is just after eleven in the morning.”
“What time is the sunrise?” she said quietly.
“Half after six,” said Alex, and he took her hand in his to reassure her.
“I will be up, Murrough. I shall see you off myself.”
He nodded and then, bending, kissed her good night.
When Velvet and Alex were undressed and in their own warm bed, she asked him, “Is this duel really necessary? It is foolish of me, I realize, to be frightened, but I cannot help it. No one I’ve ever known has fought a duel.”
He drew her into his arms. “There is no danger, Velvet, lass. Now be a good girl and kiss me, sweetheart.”
She gave him her lips in a sweet and tender kiss, but when his hands began to roam lasciviously about her lush body, she slapped them away, saying severely, “Nay, my lord! You need all the sleep you can get! It is past two now, and you must be on your damned field of honor in four hours!”
He swore a mild oath and then chuckled. “Very well, lass, but I hope ye’ll not have cause to regret turning me away. Think of the beautiful child we might start this night.”
“And shall I explain to him how his father lost an ear in a duel several hours after his conception because he could not resist rutting like a stallion when he needed his sleep?”
Alex laughed outright. “Little Tartar,” he scolded. Then, kissing her full on the mouth, he turned her so that her body curved into his, spoon fashion, and, clamping a hand about one of her soft breasts, he fell asleep.
Velvet smiled in the darkness of their room and thought with a contented sigh that she would not find it necessary to take her potion any longer, at least not until after her first child was born. She did regret the fact that she had not let him make love to her, but despite everyone’s reassurances and the fact that they all made light of the matter, this duel frightened her. Then she decided she was being foolish. Even if they fought with naked swords, Alex would triumph. De Boult was a much, much older man. She relaxed and snuggled closer into her husband’s embrace.
When Velvet awoke, dawn was smearing color across the horizon. She reached for Alex and then, with a frown, remembered. That damned duel! The door to her bedchamber opened and Pansy hurried into the room.
“You’re awake then, m’lady? You said you wanted to see Captain O’Flaherty off, and ’tis almost seven o’clock.” She held out her mistress’s quilted apple-green chamber robe.
Velvet swung her legs from the bed and thrust her feet into her slippers. Standing, she slipped into the robe. “When did his lordship leave?”
“At least half an hour ago. ’Tis only a few minutes’ ride to Brightwaters, but no gentleman likes to be late to a duel. ’Tis considered quite rude.”
Velvet was forced to smile. “I wasn’t aware that you were familiar with the courtesies of dueling, Pansy.”
